Barran smiled wryly. “I hope so, Administrator. I certainly hope so.”
Above the curving barrier of the Arena dark gray clouds slowly rolled toward the North Quarter. The trees in the gardens lashed back and forth as the wind caught their branches. The limbs had darkened as the cold season approached, but the last few leaves that clung to them were bright red and yellow.
Inside the Arena, the air was still. The barrier protected it from the wind, but not the cold. Sonea resisted the desire to wrap her arms around herself and press the layers of woollen underclothes closer to her body. Lord Vorel had ordered them to drop any existing shields, including any shield for warmth.
“Remember these laws of magic,” he called. “One: a shield under attack takes more effort to hold against a strike, than the strike used against it. Two: a curved or altered strike path takes more effort than a straight one. Three: light and heat travel faster and easier than force, so a forcestrike takes more effort than a firestrike.”
Lord Vorel stood in front of the class with his legs braced and his arms akimbo. He looked at Sonea.
“Strikes are easy. That’s why it’s so common for magicians to overdo them. That’s also why shields are the most important skill of a Warrior, and why novices spend most of their time practicing them. Remember the rules of the Arena. Once your outer shield has fallen you have lost the battle. We don’t need any more proof than that.”
Sonea shivered, and knew it was not entirely from the cold. This would be the first lesson in which the novices would fight each other. All the warnings Vorel had issued ran through her mind. She looked at the faces of the other novices.
Most looked flushed and excited, but Poril was as white as snow. Since she and Poril always paired off for class exercises, Lord Vorel would probably put them against each other. She resolved to be careful and to take it easy on her former friend.
“You will be paired off initially according to strength,” Vorel told them. “Regin, you will be fighting Sonea. Benon, you will be fighting Yalend. Narron will fight Trassia. Hal, Seno and Poril will take turns.”
Sonea felt her blood turn to ice. He paired me with Regin!
But it made sense. They were the two strongest novices in the class. Suddenly she wished she had seen this coming and had pretended to be weaker than she really was.
No, I must not think this way. Vorel had told them many times that a battle was already lost if a magician began it convinced of defeat. I will defeat Regin, she told herself. I am stronger. It will be my revenge for Poril’s injuries.
It wasn’t easy to hold onto that determination as Lord Vorel called her forward to stand next to Regin. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she felt his magic surround her as he created an inner shield. A second Warrior, Lord Makin, shielded Regin.
“The rest of you move outside,” he ordered. As the novices obediently filed through the passage, Sonea forced herself to meet Regin’s gaze. His eyes were bright and the edge of his lips curled up into a sly smile.
“Now,” Vorel said as the novices sat down on the stairs outside the Arena. “Take your positions.”
Swallowing hard, Sonea moved to one side of the Arena. Regin strolled to the other and turned to face her. Vorel and Makin backed away to the edge and Sonea sensed them creating shields around themselves. Her heart was beating quickly.
Vorel looked from her to Regin, then made a quick gesture.
“Begin.”
Sonea threw up a strong shield and braced herself, but the barrage of strikes she expected didn’t come. Regin stood with his weight resting on one leg and his arms crossed. Waiting.
Sonea narrowed her eyes. There was supposed to be some significance to the first strike, and what it revealed of the character of the combatant. Looking closer, she realized that Regin didn’t even have a shield raised. He shifted his weight, drummed the fingers of one hand against his arm, tapped his foot, then looked at the teacher questioningly.
Sonea risked a glance at Lord Vorel. The Warrior was watching intently, apparently unperturbed by the lack of fighting.
Regin sighed loud enough that even the novices outside the Arena could hear it. Then he yawned. Sonea smothered a smile. This wasn’t a battle of magic, it was a battle to see who lost patience first.
She placed her hands on her hips, then looked up at the novices, no longer concerned about keeping her attention on Regin. Some were watching intently, others looked puzzled or bored. She looked at the teacher again. Lord Vorel met her gaze with a cold stare.
Perhaps she could lure Regin into striking first. Perhaps if I drop my shield...
Cautiously, she let her protective outer barrier dissolve. Immediately the world was ablaze with white fire. The hasty shield she threw up to repel the strikes held for a few seconds, then wavered and collapsed. Heat prickled her skin where Regin’s magic met Vorel’s inner shield.
“Halt!”
The strikes vanished, leaving dark spots in Sonea’s vision. She blinked at Lord Vorel as he strode forward to stand in the center of the Arena.
“Regin is victor,” he announced. A weak cheer came from the other novices. Sonea felt her face warming as Regin bowed graciously.
“Sonea.” Lord Vorel turned to her. “Dropping your shield is inadvisable unless you are skilled at raising it again quickly. If you intend to use this strategy again you should practice your defense more. You may both leave. Benon and Yalend will be next.”
Sonea bowed, then strode toward the portal as quickly as she could. As she entered the passage a gloom settled over her. It’s only the first battle, she told herself. She couldn’t expect to win all the time, especially not against Regin, whose guardian was, after all, a Warrior.
If they were always paired by strength, she would have to fight Regin in every lesson. It was clear already that Regin preferred the Warrior Skills discipline, and she’d heard Hal saying something about Regin having private lessons. Since she had no real desire to become a Warrior or have extra lessons, she was sure he was always going to be better at it than her.
Vorel had said they’d be paired off by strength initially, however. If pairings changed according to skill and talent, and she proved less skilled than Regin, Vorel would match her against one of the other novices.
That meant she had two choices: try to do well and eventually end up fighting Regin all the time, or let herself fail so she could avoid him.
Sighing, Sonea clomped up the stairs and joined the novices sitting on the steps surrounding the Arena. Either way, she was probably going to suffer many more humiliating defeats. Wistfully, she thought of the Dome, the old ball-like stone structure next to the Novices’ Quarters. Before the Arena was constructed, novices had been trained within it. The thick walls had protected outsiders from stray strikes loosed by the combatants within, yet had restricted the view of the battle to teacher and student. While it was an airless, oppressive room, at least it had been private.
Watching Benon and Yalend start their bout, Sonea quickly grew bored. She couldn’t see how these lessons, with all their rules, could prepare magicians for real war. No, these Warriors spent their entire lives indulging in a dangerous game when their magic could be put to better uses—like Healing.
She shook her head. When the time came to choose a discipline, she knew she would not be taking the red robes.
15
A Surprise Attack
As soon as Sonea stepped into the classroom she felt a difference, like a strange current of magic in the air. She hesitated in the doorway, her relief at having evaded Regin’s gang evaporating.
Lord Kiano looked up, his attention snapping to her with a peculiar eagerness as if she was a welcome distraction.
“There will be no classes today, Sonea.”
She stared at the teacher in surprise.
“No classes, my lord?”
Kiano hesitated. A hiss brought her attention to the center of the room. Only four novices had arrived before her. Benon was holding his head in his hands. Trassia and Narron had moved their chairs beside him. Regin sat quietly behind them, his eyes flat and expressionless for once. Trassia was staring at Sonea with accusing eyes.