A Practical Guide to Sorcery

Chapter 230: A Lesson in Violence

Sebastien

Month 9, Day 3, Friday 3:35 p.m.

Pendragon hadn’t gained a point on Sebastien, so waiting for her to regain her footing was not a requirement of the duel itself, but arrogance. That was good. No fight was determined before the end. If he failed to take her seriously and was even a little more careless than he would normally be, that was to her advantage.

Sebastien didn’t wait. She bent her one part of her Will to controlling the broad air control spell’s output with various on-the-fly modifications, and used the other to send several quick bursts of power through it. It was still far from free-casting, but it made her more versatile than she should have been.

Several sickle-shaped slicing spells cut from her spell array and through the air, one after the other, as fast as if she were simply snapping her fingers and creating them. Some traveled straight, but several curved around like boomerangs, targeting Pendragon from different angles and heights.

She wasn’t skilled enough to calculate the angle of travel perfectly ahead of time, without actively controlling each, and so several would miss. That was fine, as they instead worked to restrict the area he could use to dodge.

Pendragon’s eyes widened, and he tried to dodge anyway, but there were simply too many attacks coming at once. His triangular shield spell flashed back to life with a crystalline chime, the magical barrier forming just in time to deflect her assault.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the amphitheatre as she screamed something about Sebastien’s speed and control, but Sebastien tuned out the words. She couldn’t afford to lose focus. She channeled power into her other air-based spell, this one meant for fine control. It was technically a modification of a spell meant for patients with lung issues. Sebastien used it to draw in extra oxygen from the air near Pendragon, while pushing away nitrogen. She hadn’t practiced this spell long enough to be truly proficient or totally efficient with it, but she did her best to keep the spell array from glowing noticeably.

If Sebastien wanted to win, she would at least need to try to kill Pendragon. She remembered Ana’s advice, too. She drew back her shoulders, raised one eyebrow, and called out loudly enough to be heard past the announcer and the roaring of the crowd. “I heard you were turned down by Professor Lacer as an apprentice candidate. No wonder, if you have this much trouble against a second-term student.”

Pendragon stood up, still under the cover of his shield bubble, and gave her another of those irritating, condescending smiles. “You’re such a child. I would be the one dishonored if I took you seriously. It would be like kicking a puppy who is biting at your shoelace.”

He shook his foot in her direction and then began casting his third spell. Two seconds later, streams of golden-red light twisted up from the center of the spell array and coalesced into the slightly abstract shape of a falcon. It made a single flap in the air and then followed the violent direction of Pendragon’s arm to shoot toward Sebastien like an arrow.

It was fast. Very fast. But it flew in a straight line, and Sebastien had plenty of room to dodge. She had to make an extra duck and weave to avoid the edge of the spell’s angled “wing.” It shot past her, continuing on for a few meters before unraveling back into streams of light and then disappearing entirely.

Sebastien dropped her air control spell and reached for the electricity spell array. With a deep breath and a firm grip on her Conduit, she channeled as much power as she could manage into a single, concentrated spark and sent it flying outward. The electricity crackled through the air, but instead of striking Pendragon directly, it ignited the oxygen-rich atmosphere she had been quietly building up around him.

The resulting fireball was spectacular. Flames erupted from all sides, battering him before he even had a chance to raise his shield. The pressure wave that knocked him off balance. His long hair singed and crackled half away from the heat, and his dueling suit was scorched.

The judge’s flag rose, awarding Sebastien her first point.

The crowd erupted in cheers and stomping, sending a tremor through the stone amphitheatre. Sebastien didn’t let the noise distract her. She immediately switched back to her fine control air spell, this time drawing in carbon dioxide and nitrogen and pushing away any remaining oxygen.

Technically, after winning a point, they were supposed to allow their opponent to recover and the judge to signal the duel’s continuation. But as long as she was sneaky enough, she thought she might get away with it.

“Kicking a puppy?” she yelled. “But…Professor Lacer expects me to win.” She sent back a smirk as similar to Pendragon’s as she could manage. “Don’t worry, it’s not dishonorable to lose to someone who’s simply better than you.”

His expression darkened. “One point is all you’ll get,” he snarled, his previous pretense of casual superiority forgotten.

He activated his falcon missile spell again. The bird of golden-red light streaked toward Sebastien, who managed to dodge again. She poured even more power into the air spell, hoping the lack of oxygen would slow his thoughts as well as his Will. She probably wouldn’t be lucky enough to actually suffocate him into unconsciousness, but this was a form of environmental attack that could get past even his shield spell.

She caught a flash of red-gold out of the corner of her eye. Sebastien tried to throw herself out of the way, but there was no time. She dropped the air spell and her mirror-shield spell flashed into existence in the next instant, placed perfectly between herself and the oncoming attack within a tenth of a second. It might have been the fastest she had ever cast a spell, but like before, it shattered under the impact.

Even angled to deflect rather than block, it simply couldn’t withstand Pendragon’s raw power. The falcon’s wing caught her shoulder, shredding through her dueling jacket and tearing the skin beneath.

Sebastien gritted her teeth, but couldn’t hold back a scream of pain.

The judge’s flag rose again, evening the score.

Blood trickled down Sebastien’s side, but a quick test showed that she hadn’t received enough damage to limit her mobility. There was no time to dwell on it. Her practice with light-refinement had taught her that she could push part of her Will into controlling her magic while leaving the rest to guide her body. She pushed the burning pain and the way her arm wanted to go limp just to avoid jostling the wound to the back of her mind, where it settled unhappily.

The judge gave the signal to continue.

Perhaps the suffocation plan was a little too ambitious. After all, they were in the open air, not an enclosed room. Sebastien disintegrated some of the white stone into a fine dust, instead. While dodging another slap-attack from Pendragon’s giant force hand—which crashed into the ground where she had stood with enough force to crack the stone—she channeled power through her broad air control spell.

The gust of wind carried the stone dust directly toward Pendragon’s face. It was a basic strategy, one that any experienced duelist would know to expect. True to form, Pendragon didn’t even bother raising his shield. He simply closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, letting the dust scatter harmlessly around him.

“Really?” he called out, his voice dripping with condescension. “Dust in the eyes? Is that the best Professor Lacer’s precious apprentice can manage? I expected something more... impressive.”

He still wasn’t taking her seriously. Sebastien kept her expression neutral, refusing to let a premature smile of triumph break through.

She channeled power through her light manipulation array, crafting an illusion of Pendragon’s own falcon spell. The false bird of golden-red light materialized above her, its wings spread wide in a perfect mimicry of his attack. But unlike Pendragon’s version, which moved with devastating but predictable speed, Sebastien’s illusion streaked through the air just barely slow enough that the human eye could follow.

Pendragon’s eyes grew wide as the illusory falcon streaked toward him. He wasn’t fast enough to throw up his shield. He stumbled backward, his arms raised in an instinctive block. When the spell hit him, it disappeared harmlessly.

He patted frantically at his chest, looking around with wide eyes. His shield still hadn’t come up.

Sebastien didn’t waste the opening. While Pendragon was still off balance, she poured her Will into the stone-molding spell. She stilled completely, channeling every scrap of concentration into precisely positioning the spell’s output. The white stone beneath Pendragon’s right boot softened and grabbed, holding just long enough to further destabilize him.

As he flailed backward, fighting to keep his footing, Sebastien returned to her broad air control spell. Three crescents of compressed air shot out in rapid succession, cutting through the space between them with lethal intent.

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Pendragon’s expression twisted with desperation as he realized his predicament. His shield finally came up, but her slicing spells were already past. Apparently, either the shield could only be compressed so close to his body, or didn’t have the alacrity to modify it under such pressure.

The first blade of air sliced across his chest. The second caught his shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood. The third missed as he finally managed to stumble out of the way.

The judge’s flag rose again. Though she had landed two hits, the rules awarded only a single point. In truth, she felt lucky that she had managed a point at all, what with the relative weakness of the attack. Unless she had managed to hit a vital point, those cuts would have barely slowed a real enemy down. But this was a duel—a game, really—and that could work to her advantage.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the amphitheatre. “An absolutely brilliant strategy from young Siverling! Returning a replica of his opponent’s attack was purely psychological warfare, meant to throw Pendragon off balance. And clearly, it worked spectacularly! No damage was done by the initial attack, but Pendragon was flustered and ended up losing a second point!”

Though her blood sang with the thrill of success, Sebastien forced herself to wait for the judge to deem Pendragon, and the duel, fit to continue.

Pendragon’s face had turned an ugly shade of red, a mixture of embarrassment and rage twisting his features. His previous arrogance had vanished entirely, replaced by murderous intent. Like this, he looked quite a lot like his father.

Sebastien needed just one more point to win. Despite Pendragon’s greater power, his Will moved like a battering ram compared to her precision and speed. If she could survive his next assault, victory was within her grasp.

Sebastien set off another barrage of air-based mini thunderclaps around Pendragon. The attacks weren’t powerful enough to seriously harm him, but they were fast and numerous, designed to keep him off balance. If she was really lucky, enough damage to his eardrums might accumulate to earn her a point.

His force hand spell glowed to life again. Instead of attempting to slap her away or squash her like a bug again, Pendragon grabbed for her. The giant blue fingers spread wide. Sebastien attempted to dodge, since defending with magic was useless anyway, but he used slower, more precise movements to pin her in.

If this continued, she would be forced out of the ring or caught and crushed until she lost another point. She leapt forward instead, launching herself in the air and attempting to use the hand as a platform to throw herself to safety.

As she was coming down on the other side, the hand reversed direction, striking her with a backhanded sweep that sent her tumbling toward the edge of the ring on the other side.

She maintained her concentration, setting off even more miniature thunderclaps around Pendragon’s head. She noted in a small corner of her mind that several of the faculty standing on the side for emergencies had tensed, their hands moving toward their Conduits.

Unfortunately, Pendragon maintained his composure despite the assault.

Sebastien cast her reflective shield spell between herself and the edge of the ring. The shimmering barrier materialized between her and the ground, but Pendragon’s force hand crashed down after her. She found herself caught between the two magical constructs. Her ribs creaked as the hair was knocked from her lungs, and her shield shattered like weak glass.

She smashed into the stone and rolled immediately to avoid being crushed by the magical hand. Whether from the impact of the blow or crossing the boundary, she lost another point.

She climbed slowly to her feet, trying to ignore the screaming hind-brain panic that she couldn’t get her lungs to accept air. Her gaze met Professor Lacer’s who was standing off to the side, ready to intercede in the case of a real emergency. His expression was stoic and unreadable.

As breath returned to Sebastien’s lungs, she moved back into the ring and nodded to the judge. She drew on her electrical spell array, watching as Pendragon’s falcon missile coalesced and streaked toward her, its golden-red light casting strange shadows.

Sebastien dodged again to make sure it wouldn’t clip her from its initial strike, but her real defense was a small arc of electricity that cracked out and through the oncoming attack, searing her eyes with its light.

The electricity wasn’t as potent as she’d hoped, but it disrupted the falcon’s form. The construct’s wings flickered and wavered as the energy interfered with its structure. Sebastien resumed her barrage of thunderclaps against Pendragon while keeping her eyes fixed on the faltering missile. The falcon construct went only a few more meters before unraveling, dissolving into streamers of light that faded away.

Sebastien remained tense, watching for another surprise attack, or some indication that the spell had only pretended to fail, but Pendragon was already activating his shield array once more, the familiar triangular lines of the barrier beginning to form around him.

At first, Sebastien thought her constant barrage had gotten to him.

His composure cracked once more as he sent her a very un-benevolent glare of pure rage. But then, he gripped both hands in a white-knuckled grasp around his Conduit, and the triangle-shaped lines making up his shield flexed and warped for a moment, like a soap bubble about to burst. That was the only warning she got.

The shield exploded outward toward her in a wave of crystalline force. The triangular patterns stretched and distorted as they expanded, creating a translucent wall of magical pressure that threatened to push her straight out of the ring. The raw power behind it made her teeth ache, and she slid back.

But Sebastien leaned into it and hunkered down, one knee pressing into the white stone beneath her. She channeled power through her mirror-shield spell, angling the edge like a wedge to slice through his expanding shield. The pressure parted around her in a small area, just enough to keep her from being thrown backward. Her boots scraped against the ground as the force continued to push her, but she didn’t shift more than a few inches.

As the ongoing wave of his shield’s explosive power began to taper off, she pulled on the only spell she hadn’t yet used—the magnet-based shield. This would be the most difficult spell application yet. Remaining in her half-kneeling position, she turned all of her Will toward acting faster than Pendragon could respond.

The magnetic shield had been meant to help draw physical attacks off course, and probably had several other potential applications based on natural science, but she didn’t have a strong enough grasp on the concept to do much beyond the obvious. Still, augmented by a powerful component, it might be enough.

She would have liked to target Pendragon specifically—perhaps his clothes—but didn’t have the time to try to figure that out, if it would even work without a sample of what she wanted to attract. Instead, she directed an attracting force toward his general direction with all the power she could muster. She didn’t distance the output, as the difficulty might decrease the force she could apply.

It was enough to pull him off balance, even if not send him flying through the air.

She walked over, grabbed him by a flailing arm that had poked into her side, and pulled him through into her ring. Then, just to make sure she would get the point, she punched him in the face.

A stunned silence fell over the amphitheatre as the judge raised his flag one final time. “The winner is Sebastien Siverling!” the announcer’s voice boomed, breaking the tension.

Sebastien kept her eyes locked on Pendragon, muscles tensed for any potential retaliation.

His face went pale, and then flushed crimson from his collarbone to the tips of his ears. His fists clenched at his sides as his gaze darted between the crowd and his father, who was standing at the base of the stands rather than sitting on the crystalline throne.

The High Crown’s limbs were rigid, and though he wasn’t scowling, his lips were set with disgust and the look in his eyes was dark.

With mechanical stiffness, Frederick Pendragon executed a formal bow to Sebastien, then to the judge, before striding off the stage, his back ramrod straight.

Sebastien returned the formal gestures, though her movements were somewhat hampered by her injuries. When she straightened, she caught Professor Lacer’s eye. He gave her a single, subtle nod.

Before she could think of anything else, her friends descended upon her in a jubilant swarm.

There was a lot of jumping and screaming for a moment, until they seemed to realize that she was still injured. Alec tried to kneel down so that he could give her a piggy-back ride over to the healer.

While she was busy arguing, the healer managed to pry her friends away, scolding them harshly for obstructing his ability to do his duties.

He brought her over to the side of the amphitheatre to be examined, and treated her on the spot with a few spells and potions, including an expensive Radiant healing salve that knitted the flesh of her shoulder back together with barely any scarring.

“Magic is amazing,” Sebastien said with a chuckle, rolling her shoulder and noting only a faint ache left behind. “I love it.”

While the others were waiting, they had gone to collect their winnings. Waverly handed Sebastien a few dozen gold with a regretful expression. “The odds against you weren’t nearly as bad as we expected. I definitely can’t buy a dragon. Maybe a pixie, but I don’t really fancy a life of collecting all their dust and dander.”

‘So people actually thought I might be able to win? Professor Lacer’s reputation must carry more weight than I realized,’ Sebastien thought.

She got into the wooden chest, changed back into her regular clothes, and re-cast her shadow-familiar spell with profound relief. All of her hidden accessories remained untouched. The familiar weight of them against her skin provided an unexpected measure of comfort.

Sebastien decided to leave quickly to avoid any further dramatic events, but Professor Lacer intercepted her. He gave her perfunctory congratulations on her win, passed on a slip for a hundred contribution points from the judge, and then hesitated with uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“I should have brought this up earlier, but the days slipped away. I wish to discuss your living arrangements for Harvest Break. I am able to assign you accommodation in one of the premium dormitories that will be vacant if you feel uncomfortable returning to Dryden Manor.”

Sebastien blinked.

“And if you need me to, I can handle any issues with Lord Dryden personally,” he said, a hint of malice sneaking into his tone.

Sebastien’s eyes narrowed with a sudden suspicion of what might be behind this. “Have you been talking to Titus Westbay?”

“He made me aware of the possible issue. I understand that you would likely also be welcome at Westbay Manor, but I thought you might prefer your privacy.”

Sebastien gave an angry huff and ran a hand through her hair. “Titus Westbay is an incorrigible gossip and a rumor-monger. You should take anything he says with a grain of salt. And thank you for the offer, but I’m staying in my own apartment over the break,” she stated firmly.

She braced for Professor Lacer to pry or argue, but he shifted topics smoothly. “Here.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out two leather-bound notebooks. “These are manuals on gesturan spellcasting. Study them over the break, along with the dazzler. When you think you’re ready, contact me to schedule a good time to practice some of its more advanced applications.”

Before they could discuss details, her friends swept her away, insisting on a celebratory dinner. As they led her off to the edge of the white cliffs and they stood in line for the transport tubes, she glanced back at the University grounds, which were still milling with students and visitors.

It seemed like a lifetime since she had come to Gilbratha, but it still felt surreal to realize that her first year at the University was over.