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403. Counters
🕑 Added 2023-08-27 07:00:01 +0000 UTC"Not really getting it through your thick skulls, are you?" Moira's disdainful gaze swept over her students. "Getting a few flames up and around the ruby won't be enough. I expect each of you to be able to release a proper fire spell from your staff, but Stars help me, that's looking like a lofty ambition! By the time you've managed to hit a single Khivan, they'll have riddled you with holes!"
Martel did his best to ignore her. She was not offering any actual advice; her sole method of teaching seemed based on bullying her students until they somehow learned, though it probably happened in spite of rather than because of her.
At least he could go to Master Alastair for advice; he wondered if the other fire acolytes ever did that. It might also be helpful to be able to practise with the gem-tipped staves at other hours, rather than the bells they had in the Circle of Fire. Moira had allowed Martel to keep his gold-edged dagger, so perhaps she would be amenable to this; the situation was not quite the same, as the blade had already belonged to Martel, whereas the staves would be the property of the Lyceum.
In any case, he did not feel up for asking. She seemed in a particularly foul mood today; certainly not prone towards granting favours. Sighing, but keeping the utterance to himself, Martel tried once more to focus a spell through the ruby.
***
Despite two bells of practising fire magic, Martel still went to the Chamber of Earth in the evening. He had not been to the unofficial gathering for months, in part because it seemed superfluous, in part because he was usually too tired after his lessons in the Circle of Fire. But he had been practising his counterspell in duels with Master Alastair for a while now, and he wanted to try it against an opponent closer to his own power. Thus, he had preserved his spellpower as best he could during the day, leaving him enough for one match.
"Nordmark! You should have told me you were coming tonight." Maximilian walked over, lowering his voice as he spoke again. "I could have arranged a good fight for you with even better odds."
"Not my intention tonight," Martel responded. "Not looking for coin, just a little practice against the right opponent."
"Well, thankfully I am a quick hand at setting up a wager or two. But what is the good master looking for? We have a fine selection of mageknights with different weapons. The good master can even have two at once." Maximilian grinned.
"While you would make a good purveyor of flesh, my interest lies in the elemental tonight."
The mageknight turned his eyes over the small crowd of acolytes. Normally, some might already have started fighting, but Martel's appearance had immediately caused whispers: everybody was waiting to see what the battlemage would do. "In that case, Henry is a decent choice with air."
The white-clad mage shook his head; apparently, he had no interest in trying his luck.
"I'll do it." A young woman in the embroidered blue robe of a frostmage stepped forward.
Martel recalled he had duelled her once before, using his fire to melt her ice. Back then, it had been a deliberate move, where he had waited and anticipated her spell; not a bad comparison to see how much better he could do this with his mastery of the counterspell. "Excellent."
The two acolytes took position opposite each other, but everyone else spread out along the sides. Neither took a weapon. This dual would be decided by elemental spells, not empowerment.
Martel knew not to underestimate his opponent. While no elemental acolytes trained as much for combat as those with fire, he knew that frostmages did receive some martial education, if they were meant to join the northern legions. The fact that he had seen this particular water acolyte during these sparring sessions more than once suggested she was considered for such a career.
"Fight!"
A ray of frost shot out from her finger. Martel reacted with his counterspell, and a shield of flames shot up in front of him, absorbing what would otherwise have been a direct hit. Meanwhile, his own hand unleashed a fire bolt that did strike true. She winced in pain, but it did not break her rhythm. Both of them moved around, circling the other mage as they each unleashed another spell.
The same result as before; Martel's counterspell took effect, and only his adversary received a hit. The counterspell worked, but it was also draining his spellpower; Martel could not keep this tactic up. At the same time, the frostmage limped after being struck on her leg; another strike should bring her to her knees and the duel to an end.
Both acolytes cast their third offensive spell. Martel expected the same as before, underestimating his opponent; instead of a glittering spike of ice, earth rose from the ground and flew against him with enough force to knock him to the ground.
Reacting on instinct, Martel counterspelled. A gust of wind blew against the earthen bolt, dissolving it in the air. Quickly following up, Martel unleashed his own fire bolt, making another successful attack.
"Enough!" The frostmage raised her open hands in a gesture of defeat.
Martel took deep breaths, feeling the sweat on his brow. He would not have had spellpower for a fourth counter. As the other acolytes cheered, the frostmage limped over to him. "That's Master Alastair's counterspell, isn't it? I saw him demonstrate it once, but I didn't know he taught it to anyone. He told us we wouldn't have need of it."
"You probably won't," Martel assented. The Tyrians fought with water and earth, just like her.
"You found good use for it tonight. I thought you could only protect against my water spells, that maybe you battlemages have a fire shield of some sort. I didn't expect the wind stopping my earth."
"I'm glad you tried that. It was the perfect opportunity to try the spell. And if I didn't have it, all your spells would have hit me. You're very good."
"Not as good as you, fire-touched." She gave half a smile. "But I'll get there. And then I expect a rematch."
Martel bowed his head. "That's only fair."
~~
Martel's character sheet (no change).
Comments
Jake
Martel spitting game lets go
