‘Sit down, sit down, everyone!’ Scipio bellowed, ducking out of the corridor and walking down the steps of the arena, followed by a smirking Rook. He nodded and waved to generals and nobles alike. As the spectators took their seats, a hush fell on the arena.
‘So: another year, another fresh crop of cadets, ready to test their mettle in the arena,’ Scipio said, throwing his arms wide and beaming at the students. ‘This year is a rather unusual affair. Traditionally, there would only be a dozen or so candidates, with duels by knockout to determine a winner. But this year, we have extended the opportunity to both first and second years, leaving us with twenty-four candidates to sort through. I will leave you in the capable hands of Inquisitor Rook to explain the new rules of the tournament for you all.’
Scipio stepped away and took a seat at the very front of the arena steps, his job done.
‘Thank you, Provost. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for coming; I know your time is precious. Every minute away from the front lines is a minute your soldiers are without your fine leadership. To speed things up, I have decided that there shall be a three-way battle in the first round, where only one candidate will proceed to the next. It will not be a traditional duel; but more shall be revealed later.’
There were murmurs of curiosity from the watching crowd, but there was no disagreement. Rook allowed the noise to die down, then continued.
‘The following round will be the traditional knockout between two cadets, but with no spellcraft or demons allowed. Historically, the combatants in the tournament rarely come to blows, preferring to hurl spells at each other or let their demons do the fighting for them. It seems a shame to waste the years of sword training your children have had, even before coming to the academy. The second round will showcase this important skill.’
This time, there were nods of agreement from the nobles in the stands, but the generals seemed less happy with the arrangement, pursing their lips and shaking their heads at each other.
‘I must object. This gives an unfair advantage to the noble children, who will have all had private tuition in swordplay,’ one of the generals said, addressing Scipio directly. ‘We would prefer a fair assessment of the cadets’ abilities.’
‘Perhaps you would prefer us to handicap the nobles, simply because they are better prepared?’ Rook replied with a hint of sarcasm. ‘Have they not also had some training in spellcraft before arriving at Vocans too? Maybe we should limit the tests to the demonology exam?’
Scipio stood and turned to the general who had spoken.
‘I’m afraid I must agree with Inquisitor Rook. I too took issue with this change at first, but I soon remembered one thing. War is unfair – the weak fail and the strong survive. If the tournament is unbalanced, does it not provide a more accurate representation of true battle?’
‘I have also put a measure in place that will allow an equal number of nobles and commoners to make it to the second round,’ Rook announced. ‘Commoners and nobles will not compete with each other in the three-way battle, as the groups will not be mixed. Does that satisfy you?’
‘It does, Inquisitor. Thank you.’ The general took his seat once again, although his brow remained furrowed.
‘Good. Rounds three and four shall be traditional duels, so I assume there will be no disagreement there. Now, the arena must be prepared for the first round,’ Rook said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Sir Caulder! Take the cadets to their cells!’
49
Fletcher sat in the darkness of the prison cell, his heart fluttering beneath his ribs like a caged bird. He had hoped that he would be able to watch the tournament, but the rules stated that all combatants were to be kept separate. It felt like hours had passed, and the anticipation was torture.
He stared at his hand, tracing the deep black lines that Athol had drawn. In the centre of his palm lay a pentacle, the five-pointed star within a circle. If this worked as he had planned, he would be able to summon and infuse Ignatius simply by pointing his hand, rather than positioning the demon above a summoning leather. He wasn’t too sure how much that would help him in a battle though.
He had left his index finger blank, so that he would be able to etch with it as normal, in case he needed to use another spell. The other fingertips had been tattooed with the four battle symbols of telekinesis, fire, lightning and shield. With any luck, he could shoot mana through each finger without ever having to etch a symbol in the air.
A sudden buzz startled him and Valens hovered into view, gliding through the cage bars and settling on his lap.
‘Come to watch, Captain Lovett?’ Fletcher asked, stroking the beetle’s smooth shell.
Valens waggled his antennae and buzzed cheerfully. Somehow, it made Fletcher feel better.
‘I hope you do watch. It will be nice to have someone cheering for me. Or buzzing.’
Footsteps rang out in the corridor and the beetle shot away, secreting himself in a dark corner of the room.
‘Fletcher.’
It was Sir Caulder, staring at him through the bars of his cell.