It was time for the final match, between the two teams from Zaban, the four wild mages of Zaban, and the four elite mage officers from Attos. Megan stood as confidently as she could when they were called to muster, standing over a hundred feet away from each other in a strict diamond shape. Samuel himself stood in the direct center, turning slowly on the spot to survey the assembled teams. He could obviously sense the tension, and an eager grin spread across his face.
“Well, ladies and gentleman,” he said jovially. “This is it. The final fight of the group combat event. You each had good showings in your first fights, and it was that skill that let you stand here now.”
Megan glanced over at the Attosian team, unable to ignore them any longer. Bente was standing stock-still, eyes riveted on Samuel, politely listening. His allies were also at stiff attention, ranged in a wedge behind him, also watching Samuel as he gave the ceremonial opening. They looked well-rested and in top form, Megan thought with a tight feeling in her gut. She was hoping that they’d show more exhaustion than this. It only made their task harder.
The Zaban mages, led by the noble-looking elf in sleek silver furs, stood with a more relaxed stance, but it was clear that they were being as formal as possible. Their leader had his hands clasped behind his back as he watched Samuel, a half-smile on his face. His compatriots behind him slouched, comfortable but bored, waiting for the fun to start.
In the College of Milagre, when a Master or other respected mage was speaking, you were expected to sit with feet spread a shoulder’s width apart, hands clasped at the waist, and this was the position that both they and the other team from Tyrman took. The smug youth leading his team looked a little tired but otherwise confident in his chances of winning. But then again, Megan thought with a smirk, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance if he weren’t confident.
“What comes now will take a large amount of bravery, quick thinking, and strategy,” Samuel continued. “Not to mention a great deal of luck and skill. You must be fierce and cunning to win. I wish you the best of luck.”
And so saying, he promptly stepped away, revealing one of the referees. There were more than a dozen for this event, as there would need to be a close eye kept on the situation. In this final battle, if someone were knocked unconscious, they could be revived by a teammate. But if they were deemed too critically injured to continue, one of the referees would remove them from the arena, where they would be healed and unable to return. It was nearly impossible to enforce a power limit in a fight like this.
“The fight will last for one hour,” the referee said, his voice magnified magically and reaching them easily. “Or until there is only a single team that has a member standing. While there is no limit on power for this match, you will still avoid lethal intent. Any lethal magic will be countered, and its caster disqualified. Is that clear?”
He looked at each group in turn, making sure he received confirmation that his words had been heard and understood. He canceled the spell on his voice then, charging up another. He spared a few glances around to make sure the other referees were ready and in position, then hurled his mana into the air. It flew up for about two hundred feet, then burst like a firework, casting colored sparks in all directions with a loud bang.
The instant the signal was given, each team began to move. The leader of the Zaban party barked an order, and four spells shot across the field, aimed directly at the Attosian team. That was no surprise, as Zaban and Welsik were currently enemies following the last war. The barrage of spells landed on Bente’s shield, reverberating with loud pops and bangs, but otherwise coming to nothing. The one added benefit of this was that the Attosians had to focus on defense for the first few seconds, and could not initially move.
Megan directed her friends to move back and to the right, taking a long arcing path that would eventually bring them up behind the Attosians. She had counted on the Zaban students attacking and knew it would provide their best opportunity to close in and put them out of action. The other Tyrman team, apart from taking a few steps back, had made no other move.
Bente’s shield expanded again as Rachel fired a seeking spell. Her mana turned sharply and curved around the group, skimming the radius of Bente’s barrier before flying away. It was a spell that did no damage but allowed Rachel to assess the condition of whoever it came near. She would be able to tell who was exhausted, and therefore easier to target. They continued to rush forward, closing the distance.
Then, disaster struck. Bente, who had been focusing on maintaining his barrier, turned without warning to face Megan’s team. The barrier faded, and before it was completely gone, the earth between the two teams rose up like a wave, pushed towards the Tyrman students. A little alarmed by the rapid turn, Megan put up a barrier in front of Jordan and Michael. The movement of the earth was slowed, but now their targets were out of sight.
“Go, Michael! Jordan!” she shouted. They were off. While it was true that they could no longer see the Attosians, the same was true in reverse. Jordan sprinted around the new earthen barricade as fast as he could, rushing into melee range while Michael ran up the slope, solidifying the air beneath his feet to drop from above. Megan and Rachel combined their efforts to tear down the hill, revealing the rest of the battlefield to their eyes once more.
This tactic had been pre-arranged when she’d shared her plan originally. At that time, Bente’s incredible defense had been noted. The Barrier spell, while being one of the most basic skills possessed by a mage, was also a very good indication of the individual mage’s skill. The more mana you possessed, the thicker the barrier was, and the more control you had over it, the harder the surface became. But one fact was true for all users of the spell, and that was that every single blow you blocked with it cost you some mana. This cost varied by the strength of the attack, of course, but also by your own natural resilience.
Michael and Jordan’s job now was to pepper Bente’s barrier with as many blows as possible, putting as much power as they could into each blow. They rained attacks down at all angles they could muster, actually dancing around in a wide circle to force Bente to expand his barrier. His team was now covered in a golden protective dome of light, forced to crouch under the shelter while Michael and Jordan attacked. The students from Zaban even lent their power to this task, ignoring Michael and Jordan for the time being, reigning destruction on their enemy.
The second Tyrman team, the five-man group led by the smug Proficient, moved now. They closed the distance in almost no time at all. Megan expected them to join in the assault of the Attosian forces, taking the easy opportunity to eliminate one opponent before the fight got too far along. Instead, to her shock, the tall youth rushed immediately to Michael, hands glowing with mana, and swung his fist at the boy’s head.
Michael reacted with all the usual speed and agility of a Spellblade. The weapon appeared in his hand, and he slashed backhand, forcing the upperclassman to jump back out of range. Then his allies all fired the spells they were holding, and four bolts of mana arced around their leader, aiming straight for Michael’s body. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding injury, cursing the duplicitous attack.
“Rotate, Michael!” Megan shouted. “Switch with Jordan!”
At once, Jordan darted forward. He and Michael stood back-to-back for half a second, then both turned to the right. Now the other Tyrman team was facing the massive shape that was Jordan, able to see the swelling draconic rage that he was holding back. He held it back no longer, unleashing a torrent of flame that spread wide. The upperclassman’s barrier protected him from damage, but he was still thrown back into his comrades by sheer force. Jordan clamped his jaw shut with a snarl, leaving a temporarily stunned and silent battlefield in the wake of the dragon’s roar.
Michael had moved away as Jordan roared, and was now in range, so Megan sent a quick healing spell his way. “Rachel, can you link to Michael? I’ll cover Jordan.”
Her friend nodded, so Megan ran a few feet to the side, coming in proper view of her large friend. He’d grabbed hold of one of the upperclassman’s allies and was just knocking him out as she spotted him. Immediately, she linked herself to him, starting to funnel mana freely. She was glad at once that she did, for now, she could see that all five of their upperclassman had locked onto Jordan’s position, and were preparing to cast.
“Let’s get back!” She shouted. “Jordan!”
He started to move backward, arms raised protectively to conjure a barrier, but he was too slow. All five spells slammed into his torso, throwing him backward. He flew back several feet, nearly slamming into Megan and knocking the both of them prone. But miraculously, it was far from a telling blow, and Jordan managed to flip himself round in the air and land on his feet, carving two deep furrows in the ground with his feet. He finally slid to a stop five or six feet behind Megan, the barrier coming to life belatedly.
Megan knew at once that if she didn’t move she’d be a prime target for both the Attosians and the other team. She smacked away one of the spells launched by her upperclassman with a Counterspell, then threw up a barrier spell of her own. She felt the drain of mana as two more spells hit it, but she was safe. She took a hasty step back in the short pause between spells, then another, and stopped to block a few more. Her mana drained at a frightening rate with being forced onto defense.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something calculated to raise her spirits and give her hope. Michael, who had been mercilessly slamming his blade into Bente’s barrier, was moving in a whirl of fighting robes and glittering steel. The tiniest of cracks appeared in the golden shield before him. Letting out a victorious yell, he dove forward again, his sword blazing with mana as it slammed down. Bente, hell-bent on defense, didn’t have enough time to cancel and recast his barrier. The sword sheared through the protective mana as if it weren’t there, and carved down to strike the Attosian soundly on the head.
The personal defenses that Bente put up protected him from the worst of Michael’s blow, but the force still knocked him back and down, slamming him into one of his comrades and knocking both prone. Michael only had to step into the gap he’d created then, the rest of the barrier shattering belatedly, and strike out to the left and right with his Spellblade. The Attosians on either side of him stood no chance to protect themselves, as they’d been counting on Bente’s barrier to protect them.
Had Bente been able to handle the onslaught, they would have been in a far superior position, with fully charged mana and facing only exhausted enemies. As it stood, Michael hit them too fast to react, and they fell unconscious before him. It didn’t matter how much mana they had at their disposal. Now it was only Bente and their support, who had been lucky to be knocked out of the range of Michael’s sword.
“Get up, Beran,” Michael snarled. “Let’s finish this properly.”
“Beran?” Megan didn’t know who repeated the name, but she couldn’t miss the outraged tone that permeated his words. As if in slow-motion, in the gap between more spells fired on her position, she turned her head to the left. Michael stood over his down enemies, blade coated in fiery mana, his eyes burning with the all-familiar power of his bloodlust. Except that there was something more to it, she thought. The eyes were glowing in very much the same way that they were when he’d used Truesight on Megan.
And before her eyes, and the eyes of all in attendance, Bente’s form shivered, then faded. It had been an illusion, and beneath it was a pale-haired woman wearing armor. It was Lana Beran, the daughter, and only child of Attos Beran, former King of Attos.
