“Anyone who breaks these rules will be kicked out,” she warned, again. “And they will not be allowed to return.”
She took a breath. “We will hold the first round of the actual contest a week before half-term. Those of you who want to take part will have until then to put your name down for the first round. You can withdraw your name up until the moment I start assigning partners, at which point you will be recorded as having forfeited the match if you withdraw. The remainder of the rules can be found on the notice board outside my office or in the common rooms. Make sure you read them before you put your hat into the ring.”
There was a long pause. “We won’t be going outside just yet,” she said, as she snapped her fingers. A number of circles appeared on the floor. She smiled at their astonishment, although she knew that Gordian and Professor Armstrong had set up the wards beforehand. “If you have some experience in casting spells, we will now divide you into teams which will be supervised by my assistants; if you don’t, I’ll teach you some of the basics now.”
Cirroc stepped forward. “Everyone with experience, over here,” he bellowed. “Now!”
Emily concealed a smile as the group slowly split in two. Cirroc and the others had by far the largest group, if only because anyone who’d survived a year at Whitehall would know a number of defensive spells. She watched them for a long moment, then turned her attention to the firsties. They stared back at her with varying degrees of awe and fear.
“I’m going to teach you the basics,” she said, as she led them to a corner. “You’ll need to go to the library to learn more spells and practice, always practice, to develop your skills in combat. Some spells which sound ideal are actually useless in a real duel.”
She smiled, thinly. Sergeant Miles had talked about sorcerers who’d tried to be clever, only to have someone more practical blast them through a wall while they were trying to cast their brilliant spells. Or have his head bashed in with a brick, in one particularly humorous example. It was better to be practical than brilliant, in a fight. A brilliant man could overlook the flaws in his brilliant plan until they caught up with him.
Gathering herself, she talked them through a very basic set of spells. They were largely harmless, although she doubted that anyone without magic would agree. A magician might take being turned into a frog or frozen solid in stride, but a mundane would find the experience terrifying. Emily had found it terrifying, years ago. Now ... it was just part of her life.
“The basic shield has some advantages over an embedded ward,” she said, demonstrating the spell. A translucent disc appeared in front of her. “Its weakness, however, is that a solid blow against the magic can force you backwards or even knock you over, even if the blow isn’t strong enough to break through. It also won’t cover everything, which means that someone can still sneak a spell through your defenses.”
She ran through a couple of other spells, then looked at the other groups. Older students were snapping off hexes and jinxes at each other with a great deal of enthusiasm, while Cirroc, Jacqui and Cerise moved from circle to circle, correcting technique or offering advice when it seemed to be needed. Emily couldn’t help noticing that most of the students had paired off against other students in their year, although there were some exceptions. Both Frieda and Tiega were hurling hexes at students a year older than them. Emily wondered, absently, what would happen if they were paired up. They both had a desire to overcome their pasts and succeed.
“The shield keeps shattering,” one of her students said. “I can’t get it to solidify.”
Emily dragged her attention back to him with an effort. “You’re not pushing enough power into the spell,” she explained. “You want to envisage it as a solid wall, not as something insubstantial.”
Cirroc wandered over to join her. “It’s going to be a while before we can get them outside,” he said, cheerfully. “The rules haven’t quite bedded in yet.”
“I suppose,” Emily agreed. Far too many students would have been taught to reach for the dangerous spells first. “Take care of the firsties for a while, okay?”
“Of course,” Cirroc said.
Emily nodded, then strode off to watch the others. A number of younger students were lining up in front of Cerise to have various spells removed, ranging from a pig’s snout to a full-body transformation. The remainder were dueling with more intensity; Frieda was still sparring with her opponent, even though he was a year older. What she lacked in finesse, Emily noted, she made up in raw power and determination. Blood trickled down her cheek, but she didn’t seem to care. And her opponent didn’t seem to be able to match her.
“Keep dodging,” Jacqui called.
Emily turned to see Jacqui supervising a pair of third year students.
“You don’t want to waste power on defending yourself,” Jacqui added.
Emily rolled her eyes. That wasn’t the only problem. The two students were treating the duel as a ballet, rather than an actual fight. They were both showing off, wasting magic in a manner that would have cost them the duel if their opponent had been more interested in winning than looking good. The only good thing was that one of the duelists had transfigured her dress into a pair of trousers.
She shook her head. Sergeant Miles would be furious if someone played games like that in Martial Magic—and she didn’t want to think about Lady Barb’s reaction. The two students were just playing games, bouncing spells around ... they’d lose, and lose badly, in the contest, if they chose to take part. But instead ...
Jacqui looked up at her. “They’re having fun. And they’re at least smart enough to keep moving.”
Emily nodded, shortly. It was better to dodge a spell rather than waste magic blocking, deflecting or casting the counterspell. But she could envisage a dozen spells—half of them non-lethal—that could have won the duel in an instant, if her opponent didn’t react with lightning speed. And yet ... she sighed, inwardly. One didn’t win a chess match by sweeping one’s opponents to the floor, any more than a football player was allowed to win by bringing a battleaxe onto the field. Victory only counted if it was won by the rules.
But not in a real fight, Emily thought. Lady Barb had hammered that into her head, time and time again. When everything is at stake, the rules go out the window.