Shhhhlap!
The biting sting of metal slicing through flesh caught the top of my right shoulder in a searing cut. The dagger had only narrowly missed my back because I had stumbled forward at just the right moment.
It was a trap. I didn’t have a chance to bandage the wound as I threw up my globe, blood streaming down my vest like little rivulets of red.
Darren was behind me. The light had been a trick.
The hailstones vanished and the rain returned, and I spun around just in time to see Darren charging my shield—a mace and chain in hand.
Then he leapt.
The spiked iron ball battered the barrier, and my heart slammed against my ribs.
He did it again. And again. Violet veins streaked down the surface of my casting and I stood there, holding my breath. The purple was fading with each subsequent attack.
Darren was going to shatter my defense.
I needed to find a way to counter his attack before it did, or the match would be over before it had truly begun.
An offense was a mistake; I was too close, and I would be the one caught off-guard when the barrier lifted. I needed to put some distance between us.
I hadn’t wanted to expel this much magic right off the start. But I should have realized with Darren I didn’t have a choice. They called him the prodigy for a reason and this wasn’t a game.
This was what I had trained for. All those years of pushing myself to the brink. Neglecting friendships for a glimpse of power. This was it.
Holding onto my shield I dug deep into myself. Calling up two powerful castings at once was something I could never have attempted during that first year at the Academy, or even successfully as an apprentice.
Just beyond my shield the ground erupted in a quavering tremor and the earth trembled and heaved. A giant fissure spilled out right under the non-heir’s feet.
Darren’s eyes shot to mine in surprise as he staggered and fell. The mace and chain vanished before it could hit his chest.
Couldn’t do that last year, could I?
I dropped my shield and sent him sprawling back with another raw burst of power. I’d been tempted to use lightning, but the casting was too risky in an arena filled with flying water and sand.
That bought me just enough time to tear up a quick makeshift bandage and tie it around the pit of my arm to the neck to stop the worst of my shoulder’s cut. Then the prince was recovered, sprinting back with a dexterity that bespoke years of our iron-willed masters’ training.
I cast a broadsword in one hand and waited.
His blade met mine with a resounding smack. I sucked in a breath as my shoulder throbbed from the hit.
Back and forth. Up and down. Cuts every which way were met with a parry of his own. I swiped up and to the right, Darren’s blade swung down at my left.
I spun to the side just in time to avoid a slash to my ribs.
The two of us were circling in the sand, studying the other for a break in defense. His pupils were so wide his eyes were almost black—sweat and rain were stinging as my own locked on his.
Darren brought his sword down on mine—
I pulled away and countered with a sharp cut of my own. He danced to the side, the corner of his lip twitching up, dark locks plastered to his face. Thunder rumbled across the expanse and Darren lunged, bringing his weapon down on mine with all of his weight.
I fought to hold my guard. My whole body wavered viciously with the effort to match his pressure, my shoulder screaming against the weight as he bore down on my blade. I needed to do something as I shook, but it was costing all my magic just to hold on with my casting.
Every second it was getting harder and harder and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could—
And then lightning streaked across the sky.
I shoved and his sword gave tilt, the flat end catching just the right angle… Stark rays of light shot across the blade.
Darren fell back, temporarily blinded.
But not before the edge of my sword caught his side.
And then his magic shot out like a snake. It threw me ten feet back, sprawling in the sand. My sword vanished upon impact.
I scrambled to my feet, one hand outstretched, as another bolt shot across the gap. My magic gave chase and for a moment our powers were matched—a brilliant misty blue ray in the shadows of the arena.
Then he started forward, one hand clutching the wound at his side, and my casting started to flare in and out, slowly receding with each step the non-heir took. I could feel raw power pulsating the air, and from the way my limbs were quivering I had only moments to spare before my magic ran out.
I broke off my casting and dove, my left palm slapping against the ground with a sickening crunch. A tearful cry escaped my lips, and I mourned the awkward way I fell, hating myself for not remembering my training in the heat of the moment.