“One of each side will choose someone to play the magician. A magician may shield, but can only be struck five times plus once for every apprentice he or she manages to take strength from. Magicians can elevate apprentices between rounds. Of course, those playing magician will not have to cut their apprentices, but they do need to touch for at least a count of thirty. If I catch anyone cutting someone or using harmful or painful strikes, they will be excluded from training.”
He walked between them, effectively separating them into two near-equally sized groups. “Those to the left of me will form one group; those on the right the other,” he continued. “As you play, note the ways in which Kyrima does not reflect real magical battles. We’ll come back together and discuss them, and how to deal with them.”
Most of the apprentices were smiling now, thinking that their lesson was going to be an easy, fun game. I hope this doesn’t turn out to be pointless, or and up with anyone getting hurt. He’d never tried setting up a real life game of Kyrima. But then, I’ve never taught more than two apprentices at once before. I’ll just have to work it out as I go along.
“Which rules do we follow, Lord Dakon?” Mikken asked.
“Standard.” Dakon had considered using no system of rules, but many of them were intended to make the game easier or more interesting to play. Those that weren’t could be removed once they’d played a few games and worked out which of the rules weren’t practical.
“Are we going to roll dice to decide how strong the magicians are?” Leoran asked.
Dakon shook his head. “Since we’re using harmless bolts of light, strength won’t matter. We could give each magician a different number of bolts they could use up, but it will be hard to keep count. Still, we might try that later.”
“Will you be keeping score?” Tessia asked.
“No scoring.” Dakon smiled grimly. “The game ends when one magician’s shield has broken.”
At that their expressions turned sombre. They know that means he is “dead”. This is good; they will take the game seriously and question rules that don’t work.
He raised his eyebrows, waiting to see if anyone had more questions to pose, but everyone was silent and expectant. “Shall we start? Choose your leader, then.”
Even as the two groups separated and began debating who should be their magician they began to point out differences between what they were doing and real life. Apprentices didn’t get to choose their masters. Most magicians had one apprentice and, from what they’d been able to discover, the invaders did not have more than four or five slaves on average.
Once the “magicians” had been nominated, one group turned its back so the other could position itself around the camp, then the hidden group were trusted to avert their eyes as their opponents arranged themselves. Dakon noticed that some magicians had emerged from the tents and had stopped to watch.
There was much laughter and cursing as the “battle” unfolded. Dakon noted how vulnerable apprentices were once their strength had been taken. Their best strategy was to hide or keep close to their master, staying behind his shield. One “magician”, frustrated at being the only one attacking his opponent, elevated an apprentice to “magician”, but chose a friend rather than the apprentice who would have suited the role best.
When the game ended, they all came together to discuss the battle. Aside from a few accusations of dishonesty – apprentices who hadn’t sat down after their shield was “broken” – they buzzed with ideas. All agreed that there should be more “magicians” on each side, with no more than two apprentices each, and they should have a limited number of strikes, all decided by the roll of dice. They started another game.
This was dramatically different. Suddenly there were more attackers and more targets. Immediately all had problems with communication and co-ordination. Both sides began to use signals to indicate their intentions, but these were spotted by the opposing side. Having no particular magician in charge led to arguments and the actions of some countering and hampering others.
At one point two “magician” friends tried to co-ordinate their attacks by striking at their opponent simultaneously, and several bolts were wasted because of bad timing.
Suddenly Dakon realised Lord Ardalen was standing at his side.
“There is a trick I should teach you before I leave,” he murmured. “Once the game is finished.”
Dakon glanced at him in surprise, then nodded. Looking around, he realised that all the magicians were awake and watching now. He began to wish the game would finish quickly so he could avoid their scrutiny, but he forced himself to keep analysing the battle. What could Lord Ardalen know that he was sure Dakon didn’t? He definitely said “you”, not “them”.
When one side finally fell, Dakon restrained the temptation to dismiss them straight away. He told them to debate what they had done and learned, and whether the game needed more modifications. Then he turned to Ardalen.
“About that trick,” he said.
“Yes,” Ardalen replied. “I need two apprentices in order to demonstrate.” He looked at the small crowd of eager faces and pointed at Refan and Leoran. “You’ll do. I want one of you to strike at that old tree trunk.” He patted Refan’s shoulder and indicated an enormous broken stump at the edge of the clearing. “Now strike at it – using enough power to produce a visible result.”
The air shivered and splinters of wood burst from the side of the trunk.
“Now, Leoran. Put your hand on Refan’s shoulder. I want you to send magic to him. Don’t form it into heat or force. Just let it seep out as unshaped magic. Refan. See if you can sense and draw in that magic.”
Dakon’s stomach sank with dismay. This was too much like higher magic. He saw other magicians moving closer, frowning with alarm.
“I feel it but I...I can’t hold on to it,” Refan said.
“No, you won’t be able to,” Ardalen confirmed. “Because until you learn higher magic you won’t be able to store it in yourself. But you can channel it. Take the magic but use none of your own and strike the tree again.”
Once again the air shimmered and splinters burst from the tree. Refan gasped. “I used Leoran’s magic!”
“Yes,” Ardalen said. “When my master was an apprentice, he and a friend couldn’t wait to become higher magicians. They tried to teach themselves, and instead of higher magic they discovered this. It is useful if one magician is uniquely skilled, or a task needs a singular, accurate direction of magic, but more strength is needed than one magician can provide – then other magicians can add their own magic to the strike. I can see now that it would be useful in battle for the same reason.”
Dakon felt a thrill of excitement. “I’ve had the apprentices playing magicians count to thirty while they pretend to take an apprentice’s power. This eliminates the need for that – oh, my! Our apprentices don’t need to be cut at all, do they?”
Ardalen shook his head. “Not in these circumstances, but I suspect magicians will continue the tradition of cutting because it keeps control in their hands. There are disadvantages to losing that control. Without it, the giver must send power exactly when the channeller is ready to take it, or the magic dissipates and is wasted.” He paused. “But one great advantage is that, done correctly, a shield made with the magic of two or more magicians will allow the strikes of all of them through rather than react as if struck from the inside by the one not making the shield.”