With my spare hand I waved away the throwing daggers she had sent chasing after me and redirected them at their former owner. A chill crept up my spine. I had never tried the casting before, though I had seen it once or twice in practice.
All at once, a sharp, gnawing sensation surged across my stomach, and I realized uneasily I was fast approaching my limit. Apparently, real battle and adrenaline depleted my magic much faster than two hours of practice.
Then again, I had just used a large span of magical force to knock over a girl easily the weight of four barley sacks at once. And attempted a new casting. So maybe my exhaustion wasn’t all that abnormal, in the given context.
With a violent gesture, Priscilla halted my blades and let them fall to the ground harmlessly. She stood, breathing a little unevenly, brushing off splinter fragments and dirt.
“It’s time I end this, lowborn,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
I braced myself for the attack, envisioning a shield as before, but this time her casting came before I could create a substantial projection.
Her force field slammed my defense. My head spun wildly as I tried to maintain my casting’s spectral form, holding the shield for as long as I could. For the longest ten seconds of my life, I held my ground, shaking violently and fighting the sharp, searing pain that was filling my head.
Then, all at once, my shield shattered, splaying into billions of tiny pieces as I was sent staggering backward.
This time when I fell, I did not get up. I did not look to Piers or the masters. I already knew what their expressions would say.
This girl does not belong here.
Half of our class had failed, same as I. That was to be expected in a tourney of one-on-one competition. The difference was that my unsuccessful classmates had put up a good fight. I had humiliated myself.
“Will someone please help her back to her seat?” Sir Piers finally asked after I had finished retching onto the grass.
Ella and Clayton rushed forward and grabbed my arm on either side. The two helped me off the ground, and then Clayton ran off to fetch some water while Ella pushed my hair back so that its strands no longer stuck to my sweat-soaked face.
“Thanks,” I said quietly when Clayton returned with a flask. I took a long swallow and then glanced up at the masters and Piers. As soon as the commander noticed my gaze, he looked away grimly.
So much for no consequences, I thought bitterly. I had just disappointed the one teacher that had been rooting for me. The commander had paired me with Priscilla so that I’d knock the overconfident girl off her high horse. He’d told her that I could be the one to beat her one day, but instead of validating his declaration, I had just made him seem the fool for vouching for me in the first place.
Swallowing the sinking feeling that had set in my throat, I watched the last two matches in a melancholy silence. My friends had already participated in their own rounds.
Ella had won her bout against a boy who usually tagged along after the non-heir’s crew though he wasn’t a part of it himself. The boy had started strong, but my dark-skinned friend had persevered and delivered a harsh blow at the end when the boy had been foolish enough to engage her in swordplay.
Clayton had lost to a quiet boy Ella and I had hardly spoken to since the first day of class. Their match had been a pretty even exchange, until the boy had conjured a glaive, feigned an attack to the left, and held the curved blade to our friend’s throat.
The last pairing to go into duel was none other than Eve and Darren. Watching the two of them engage, I wondered if this was what Ella had meant when she described Combat as a dance…the dark, detached prince and the fragile, almost translucent young girl with violet eyes. Their exchange carried on for fifteen minutes, each serving a series of crippling assaults that the other deflected with startling precision. I had seen the two of them practice often enough in class, and today was no exception.
A shower of flame was greeted by a wall of ice. A powerful exertion of force was met with a large metal-embossed shield that deflected and sent the other’s magic crashing into the forest behind. The ground beneath Eve gave way, and she used the same force she attacked Darren with to send herself back upon solid ground. An exchange of blows played out between two spectral blades, until the two ended their castings and held in their hands their personal weapons of choice.
Clutching the hilt in both hands, Eve held a long sword that almost reached the entire length of her frame. We had briefly practiced with that type of sword during our sessions with Piers, but the way she confidently held the weapon now made me believe she’d spent a lot of time with it before the Academy.
In contrast to his partner’s double-edged sword, Darren clutched a single-headed battle-axe in each hand.
The two of them circled one another wordlessly. Eventually Darren jumped in, swiping at his opponent to engage. The two continued to feign and parry, metal on metal thundering across the field.