The Sentinel was here. But why? And who was it he fought?

The physical and magical battle was difficult to process. The Sentinel was from Yew House, which provided him with potent offensive combinations of lightning and cold. He duelled a magician clad in fighting leathers who wielded a gentleman’s rapier. No, he wasn’t duelling, as that implied they were equal – the man was beating the Sentinel.

The Sentinel threw everything into his defence. His right hand fought with a slightly curved sword, while his left hand a constant blur of motion as an endless procession of words streamed from his mouth. ‘Ark frwd. Daryan. Yan Marw.’ Lightning, shield, and die.

The savagery of the last spell took Elvie’s breath away, though she wasn’t the target of its wrath. It ripped at her soul as it sizzled across the room in a blur of bluish-white mist.

Yet it did nothing.

An arc of lightning reflected off the other magician and blasted a hole into the wall and ceiling behind, letting a shaft of light through, but also a drizzle of rain. The spell of death careened into the man, but a soft yellow glow flared around his body from a shield or charm, before it too crashed into the stonework wall behind. If that struck Elvie, she would have known the afterlife instantly. This man just smirked a lopsided smile as he batted away the Sentinel’s katana with his rapier.

Without hesitation, the Sentinel switched to a physical attack – leaping high and lunging with his sword. The man countered with a swift riposte into the Sentinel’s face, carving a small cut across his temple. As the blow struck, his sibilant voice whispered: ‘Gwaedu,’ his sibilant voice whispered. Bleed.

The slash on the Sentinel’s face gushed blood over his eye and cheek.

With a snarl, the Sentinel launched himself, and Elvie saw an opportunity.

The Sentinel’s sword point extended as Elvie’s hands formed rapid gestures. The other magician’s rapier rose in defence –

‘Yma.’ Here.

At first, Elvie felt resistance, but then the magician gasped as the sword disappeared from his hand to appear in Elvie’s. She smiled, triumphant, as the Sentinel’s sword crashed into his chest, clubbing him to the floor in a spray of blood. He fell back, clutching a wound – but the Sentinel would give no mercy and advanced for the kill, flicking lightning from his hand in rapid succession. The enemy magician batted the bolts away with his hand, impervious to their effect even as his skin flash-burned before his eyes. Whatever shields he possessed were wearing thin under the onslaught.

Despite his injuries, and what must have been excruciating pain, the enemy magician was not yet done. Water whipped out of the carpeted floor in a maelstrom as the Sentinel’s opponents own electricity arced into the water to cause a hiss and extraordinary buzzing. Other spells she didn’t recognise filled the throne room, one after the other, stacked on so quickly she could only stare in horror as a chill settled into her core at the savagery of his attack.

Bravely, the Sentinel withstood it all, forming desperate defences until a giant statue of a knight ripped from the floor and crashed into his flank – his body flopped like a rag doll, hurtling through the air to crash against the stairs of the dais with a sickening thud.

Oh, God. That’s it. He won’t get up from that.

But his hand went down, twitching as it pushed against the carpet to drive himself back to his feet. The pain both endured was extreme, but this was a fight to the death.

Elvie looked away from the staggering Sentinel to his adversary.

The magician looked straight to her, as if had he had always known she was there and was simply waiting for a time to talk.

‘That was a nice trick,’ he said in a low, calm voice. ‘How curious. Elder magic, I take it?’

For the second time that day, her mind froze. How could she fight him when the Sentinel couldn’t? His hands moved rapidly as a spell took shape.

Somewhere nearby, feet pounded, and a voice screamed, ‘Darius, no!’

The man unleashed his spell, and it whipped towards her. She closed her eyes and imagined home before a freight train in the form of the thundering golem raged past her at the other magician – Darius. The spells slashed across Elvie’s arm before careening into the body of the rock golem. Whatever spell he’d devised to rip Elvie to pieces would have devastated her fragile body, but it didn’t have the same impact on stone. As the golem was cut to pieces – cut to chunks – they continued their momentum to slam into the magician. He cursed loudly, struggling to dodge or push away the hefty rocks which crunched into him.

Elvie gasped as her mind registered she’d also been hit, somewhere on the arm, where she now dripped blood onto the lush red carpet. Do something, she told herself. This is your chance. But she was unfamiliar with his magic; what could she do the Sentinel couldn’t?

A man was screaming in the background.

‘Dariuussss!’ Eldridge leapt off the dais, beating the recovering magician with a long strut of metal. Behind him, people huddled against pair of thrones – two of them wearing crowns.

Attacked from multiple sources and disoriented; that was the only reason the simplistic attack worked. Yet Eldridge had fought in the Great War, and it appeared he did have some tricks at his disposal. He pounded the metal down onto the magician’s foot, to a satisfying crunch, then reached into his pocket and pulled out glowing pink coins. Eldridge flung them at Darius, as he hobbled back to his feet.

The magician snarled as they hit the ground around him, exploding with the same deep concussive boom Elvie heard when she first arrived. The force of the blast crunched against the flaring shields of the magician, driving him farther back against the wall and into an alcove.

Eldridge had attacked to save Elvie. He wasn’t a match for this magician – the Sentinel wasn’t! Yet he did so out of love, and he would die for it too if the magician recovered.

‘Why? Darius, tell me why?’ Eldridge screamed as he lunged at the magician again with his metal rod.

Darius dodged easily.

Eldridge had lost his sense of perspective and abandoned magic for physical force.

She had to act – this was Eldridge, the man whose kindness had been the unexpected gift that changed her life.

Despite never training with offensive magic, Elvie had seen two lessons very recently…

Pushing aside the burning pain in her arm, she ran around the boulders of the golem as charged past Eldridge and into the man.

Speed and aggression.

Elvie screamed in rage as she went to slap the magician, certain the corner of his mouth turned upwards in contempt at the thought. Darius was injured, though, and slower, and he didn’t recognise the danger until it was too late.

The staff materialised in her hand, giving her an extra four feet of reach. She slammed the wood towards his face.

Misdirection.

Hastily he blocked the blow with his arm, but it crunched into his wrist, and he fell backward with agony etched across his feature. A yellow glow engulfed his body before bursting in a flash of tiny stars.

And then there was only one thing left to do; one thing she had been told to do when she was in great peril…

Now or never, Elvie.

With her strong hand she made three swift circles, then intersected them, left to right. Elvie screamed one word, which she learnt from a Hollow in the Fey.

‘Gwys Elosgi!’

In every lesson, her teachers repeatedly said casting a spell without the proper focus allowed the subconscious to take over. Elvie’s took over now – all her anger, all her passion, all her desperation to be safe from this menace was directed into the spell.

Fire rose in a storm – an overwhelming wall of rage, which made its way towards her adversary. Darius cowered back into the nook in the wall, panic written across his features as the flames burned ever hotter, as his skin rapidly blistered and charred, as his body flaked off to ash before his eyes.

The heat drove Elvie away, hand sizzling in front of her as she raised it to protect her. An arm wrapped tight around her, dragging her backwards as the heat faded. And when it was gone, the magician – Darius – was gone too.

Elvie slumped to the floor, spent and exhausted. The final sensation she registered was Eldridge’s arms, as they wrapped tight around her.