Fire and Ice

Another fiveday passed where little happened beyond Martel's usual routines. He stayed mindful of the debts he owed to no less than four people, but with the silver letter sent to his mother, at least the weight of his brother's medicine had been lifted. It might take a while, but he would gather the money to repay what he owed in due time. Apart from Weasel, Martel did not expect the others to press him for repayment any time soon. So while he stayed alert for any messages from the Night Knives and also checked with Master Jerome, just in case a silver coin could be earned, Martel remained patient.

He had need of this virtue for his classes with Master Alastair, as the spell for creating rainclouds still eluded him. Martel had spent more time in pursuit of this particular magic than any other, so far with little to show for it. Water remained the most difficult element for him to shape, and the addition of a second element proved beyond his abilities. For now.

"Let us rest for the time being," Master Alastair suggested. "You will burn through all your spellpower at this rate, and you do have a second class with me later today. Better to take a break and try again with renewed vigour."

Martel also had his sparring match in the chamber tonight, for which he would need some of his spellpower as well. Although frustrated, the novice conceded to his teacher's suggestion and ceased his spellcasting.

"Remember, this is advanced magic beyond the scope of most novices. Even if you fail to crack it with me, Mistress Vana is very skilled. I have never heard of any of her acolytes failing to graduate the Lyceum."

Martel forgot about that sometimes; that his time with Master Alastair would come to an end soon. As the teacher he had spent the most time with, and who knew his secret, it felt weird to consider he would no longer be taught in the Hall of Elements. "It will be strange to become an acolyte."

"No doubt, but in the end, you will be happy. Exchange that brown robe for one that is blue, no more kitchen duty, and you'll begin to learn real spells, not simple manipulation of the elements we have done so far."

Martel thought about the kind of magic he had learned. True, all of it was simple. Direct application of one element or the other. Except that one time he summoned lightning and it made him vomit afterwards. It would be nice to master such a spell without losing the contents of his stomach. "I guess you're right, master."

***

Martel looked forward to Pelday evenings. It had not occurred to him beforehand that thanks to his misadventures in the city, he had become quite adept at using magic in combat. Until lately, his only experience fighting other mages had been in Reynard's classes when he first arrived and barely knew anything. Now, Martel proved himself equal to mageknights and elemental wizards years ahead of him in training. And they respected him for it, even suggesting new matches for him and gathering to watch his performance.

"Look at her. They say that Mistress Vana will recommend she is made a frostmage," Henry whispered to Martel. They both looked towards the middle of the chamber where a young woman in blue robes fought against a mageknight.

"I didn't even know frostmages exist," the novice admitted.

"They are not to be trifled with," the air acolyte impressed on him. "They're usually sent to difficult places like northern Nordmark, keeping the witches of Tyria from sending terrible blizzards to cover all of Aster."

Martel had never heard of that, but it did sound impressive. He observed as the frostmage hurled rays of ice against her opponent at such impressive speed and in such numbers, the mageknight could not defend against them all. Cowering behind his shield, he was still struck on his limbs and eventually sank to his knees, defeated.

"How about it, Martel? You're studying to be a weathermage, think you stand a chance against her?" Henry asked.

Martel wondered at the same thing. Her command of water excelled any of his magic, including his control of fire. Gifted though he might be, he had done little to hone that talent, unlike her, who clearly had spent her years refining her mastery of water magic. But he noticed that she had used nothing else, being extremely specialised.

"Let's find out." Borrowing a staff, Martel approached her and gave a nod.

Understanding his intent, the frostmage acolyte raised her hands in position and waited.

"Henry, give us the signal," Martel requested.

A moment passed. "Go!"

Immediately, the barrage of ice came flying against Martel. That she could sustain this, flinging spells one fight after another, suggested she had honed it until it drew minimally on her spellpower.

Martel knew his shield would not protect against this. Shaped by magic, the ice projectiles could not be hindered by something as feeble as his magical shield. He swung his staff to catch the worst of them, protecting his face, but several still landed. He stood in danger of suffering the same fate as the previous mageknight.

Air was a bad choice here, considering its proximity to water; the frostmage might command that element better than Martel as well. And he did not have enough control over earth to figure a way to retaliate with that.

But he did have the element opposite water. Shooting out a ray of fire, it burned through the ice she flung at him. Knowing she would quickly recover, Martel did not hesitate but leapt forward and slammed his staff straight down on her forehead.

She either lacked the skill or speed to protect herself with her own shield. As Martel's weapon made impact, she went down like a sack of apples.

"Stars damn it, Martel, you take no prisoners," Henry remarked.

A few others complemented the novice as well while the frostmage got on her feet, one hand on her head and a pained expression. Accepting accolades from the others, Martel did not notice Jasper staring at him with an indeterminable expression.