The man turned to our commander a couple paces away. “She cheated!”
Sir Piers shrugged. “She used her magic, just as any soldier would use what skills he possessed in battle.”
“Very good,” Master Cedric said, coming to stand beside Piers. “It would seem you pay attention after all.”
I flushed.
“Thank you, master.” I bowed my head and then hurried to set down my staff and join the group of first-years who had already finished across the field.
When I got to the benches I eagerly grabbed a flagon of water and then sat down to watch the rest of the class complete the drill.
In five short minutes the ordeal was over. As soon as everyone had finished, Piers commanded his audience to spend the final hour drilling with the staffs at a more “relaxed” pace.
Only the most injured were allowed to be seen by a healing mage. Apparently, our cuts and bruises built character. We needed to build up our tolerance to pain, not succumb to it. Piers emphasized that unless we had a deep flesh wound or a broken bone, we were not to be treated.
Only two of us fit that category. A chubby girl with auburn curls had a horrible gash on her lower calf. She’d been victim to one of the throwing knives. Seeing how the girl had only finished a couple minutes after me, I was deeply impressed.
The only other to receive medical attention was Darren’s friend Jake, the burly boy who had rushed me at the tightrope. Apparently, he’d twisted his ankle while falling and broken the bone in a clumsy attempt to avoid hitting glass.
“Glad I’m not that chap right now,” Alex remarked cheerfully behind me.
I turned to look at my brother. He looked in far better spirits than the rest of us, despite the fact he’d been wheezing just moments before. I wondered if he had healed himself, though he’d be a fool to try in front of Piers.
“Oh pipe down, you big oaf,” Ella told him, stepping in beside us. “That boy could have been any of us.”
I followed the two of them as we discarded our training staffs and waited for Master Cedric to return and begin the next lesson.
“I wonder what Cedric planned for the Combat castings?” Ella mused.
I bit my lip. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be easy.
The next two hours stole every ounce of will from my body until all that remained was the empty shell of a corpse. I honestly have no idea how I carried on from the two hours with Piers prior, but by the time I had finished Cedric’s session, there was nothing left. No strength, no magic, no resolve.
While Piers’s time had revolved around breaking our physical reserves, Cedric’s made sure to tear down our magic’s limits. He started us off with simple castings against one of the various trees surrounding the field. We were to experiment casting various inflictions, whatever magic we so desired as long as it contributed to the practice of Combat.
“Show me what you know! Test your limits, challenge your castings! This is your chance to figure out what you know and what spells you need to improve. If you don’t get the desired effect cast again. Keep casting those ailments until the tree can no longer stand. Don’t worry about the field. My assistants are plenty experienced repairing your messes!”
By the end of the first hour, the pine Ella and I had been practicing on was a crackling tower of flame. I was ridiculously proud, until I saw the giant fissure Darren and his friends had created. Ten pines lay crumbled in its center.
Afterwards, Master Cedric had us drill similarly to how Ella and I had practiced during the previous weeks. Each of us lined up against an opponent, one of us clutching a staff, the other weaponless. While Ella and I had been able to rely on our prowess first, magic second, Master Cedric’s exercise forced one person to depend entirely on their magic to block their opponent’s attack. I was tolerable at first, but after twenty minutes my blocks were so weak that my opponent’s staff kept falling straight through the wavering defense.
During the last thirty minutes the training master had us casting individually with the heavy barley sacks from Piers’s drill. We were expected to blast our targets from afar, by whatever means necessary. Within the first five minutes I had exhausted any left over magic. I could barely budge a sack, let alone cast enough force to knock it backward.
A third of the way into our final drill half the class had run out of magic. Of course, we were still expected to try. But without a magical reserve they, like me, spent the remaining time pretending as they watched the few still casting with unabashed envy.