‘You’re up.’
Fletcher stood on a wooden platform on the edge of the arena, with his back to the spectators. A large summoning leather was spread in front of him. Both Rory and a second year commoner named Amber stood on their own platforms, at equal distances on either side of him. He could feel the Favershams’ eyes on him, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck. Rory’s gaze was also laden with malice, as if their return to the arena had reminded him of Fletcher’s apparent betrayal. With a shake of his head, Fletcher forced himself to ignore them and turned back to the task at hand.
The battleground had been filled with large, jagged rocks, as if an enormous red boulder had been shattered and scattered across the sand. In the very centre, a giant clay pillar stood, at around thirty feet high. A spiral pathway from the base to the top was wrapped around it like a snake, wide enough to accommodate a horse.
He heard an almost imperceptible hum above his head and looked up. Valens had just flown by, circling around the arena before settling on the concave ceiling, blending into its shadows. Fletcher smiled. Lovett had the best view in the house.
‘The rules of this challenge are simple,’ Rook declared from the sidelines. ‘The first demon to reach the top of the pillar and remain there for ten seconds will win. You will only use the telekinesis spell. You cannot attack your fellow cadets. You cannot leave your platform. If you do, it means instant elimination. Begin!’
Fletcher dropped to his knees and laid his hand on the leather, summoning Ignatius with a blast of mana. He swiped the demon’s back with his scrying stone. The imp gave a chirrup of excitement and then leaped into the arena without a moment’s hesitation.
Across from him, Amber had summoned a Shrike and Malachi was already zipping towards the pillar. Rook had chosen Fletcher’s opponents well – flying demons, one small and hard to target; the other large but hard to knock down. This was not going to be easy.
Fletcher lifted his hand and pointed at Malachi with a tattooed finger.
‘I hope this works,’ he whispered to himself, flooding his body with mana.
The air shivered in a long thin streak, then Malachi was knocked out of the air, tumbling into the rocks below. It had worked!
‘Go, Ignatius, now!’
The Salamander galloped through the rocks, cutting this way and that as Rory and Amber fired at him frantically. The sand erupted around Ignatius. Rocks shattered, sending razor sharp shards exploding like shrapnel. As the demon took a flying leap for the pathway, a kinetic blast from Rory hit him hard and sent him tumbling behind a rocky outcrop near the pillar’s base. Fletcher felt a dull throb of pain, but knew that Ignatius was not too badly injured.
The Shrike had already hopped to the ground, preferring to hide in the rocks than be knocked out of the sky. Fletcher took the opportunity to put on his eyeglass, before Malachi made another break for it.
He could see Ignatius was hidden beneath a concave rock, and that the pathway was close by. But if the Salamander were to run up, he would be too exposed to make it very far. Even if he made it to the top, it was unlikely he would be able to stay there for more than a few seconds.
‘We need to hunt down the other demons, take them out before they get a chance to fly up there,’ Fletcher murmured, sending his intentions to Ignatius. The Salamander growled in agreement, then darted to the next rock, searching from below whilst Fletcher watched from above.
Rory and Amber were also peering at their scrying stones, their eyes switching back and forth between the crystal and the sand like an angry cat’s tail. Fletcher grinned, amazed at how well the eyeglass was working. He could still see with both eyes, with a ghostly, purple-tinged image overlaying his view on the left side of his vision.
Ignatius froze. The Shrike was ahead of him, crouched silently under the overhang of a large rock. It was a small Shrike, around the size of an overgrown eagle, but powerfully built, with shining plumage and fierce talons. Ignatius could take him.
‘Flame,’ Fletcher breathed, feeling the mana roil in his veins.
The Shrike was caught in a whirlwind of fire, crashing against the face of a rock. It cawed and fluttered its wings, but Fletcher blasted it back to the ground before it made it a few feet into the air.
‘That’s one cooked turkey!’ Scipio shouted, as the spectators cheered and booed.
Ignatius leaped on to the smoking Shrike, clawing at it in a frenzy and stabbing with his tail like a scorpion. The Shrike raked back with a talon, gouging Ignatius’s side. Ignatius screeched with pain, then reared back, ready to blast the Shrike with flame.
‘No!’ Amber yelled, leaping from the platform. Ignatius paused, startled by the noise.
‘Don’t hurt him, don’t hurt him,’ she cried, throwing herself over the Shrike’s head.