Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) (11 page)

We stopped at an inn toward dusk, when it got too dark to continue. We ate and went quickly to bed and an early start. The next day found us back in the ice yacht. I’d gotten extra cushions for Mina so she had a somewhat better view.

“You can fly, right?” she asked. “Why’d you need transport in the first place?”

“For the same reason I didn’t sprint the whole way. Flying is unbelievably tiring—it’s not something you risk without good tactical reason.”

“I’ve never heard of a female wizard. How good are you at spellcasting?”

“I’m on par with Angrod, though my magic is more internal. Does that make me a combat mage? Hard to say—I never went through a proper apprenticeship.”

“Your father is one of the top ten wizards in the world.”

“He’s why I have any magical training at all. Traditionally, only sons of nobility can learn serious magic.”

By the time a boy turned twenty-one he was expected to have learned to read, to reason, and to reckon. Naturally he had already picked up the hedge magic that every household used—spells to light fires and sweep floors. It was at this point that he was apprenticed to a master, who taught magic as it applied to a particular craft. An architect might show him how to build a house in a half hour, while an alchemist might show him how to make plastics out of pigshit. For the theoretical side of the apprentice’s education the master’s guild would host lectures and assign papers.

Finally the young man’s thoughts would turn to the arts of war. It was then that his House revealed its secrets—spells to split the air and scorch the earth, spells to outshine the sun and boil the sea.

“Every Noble House maintains its own school of war magic. Combat mages tend to share techniques by practicing them on each other. They’re encouraged to duel, actually.”

“I’ve always wondered how they determined who could be a gray or black mage,” Mina said. “Elven mages were rumoured to never wash their robes. The robes started out white, grew darker with each battle, and were finally dyed red with the blood of one’s enemies.”

I laughed. “That’s a myth! Can you imagine the smell? Mother would never have let Father into the house.”

“I always thought it was odd, using blood as a dye. You’d end up with brown robes. And I never heard of any brown mages. Do they work in the sewers?”

Apprentices in peacetime gained prestige through academic duelling. They battled among themselves, accumulating victories until the senior wizards had reached a consensus. Only then were the students allowed to wear ash robes.

“Combat mages are fiercely protective of their symbols. It’s not illegal for the uninitiated to wear gray robes, but they risk being challenged.”

Past the first rank, the duelling became serious. There were fewer rules and no nearby teachers to act as referees. Only an elf’s natural caution kept fights from turning lethal.

“Mages die anyway, because in battle it’s easy to forget that you have centuries to look forward to. In battle you care only about defeating your opponent and surviving the next few moments. Otherwise you lose.”

To earn the right to wear red robes, you had to prove yourself equal to a red mage. And all red mages duelled to the death.

“So your father—” Mina said.

“Killed a man, yes. They met over the sea, where nothing would burn. My mother told me it looked like an approaching storm. There was lightning, and thunder, and clouds of steam. It rained fish next morning.”

If you aren’t friends before you travel by ice yacht, you will be after the first day. There isn’t much room in the passenger cockpit, and stopping to stretch one’s legs isn’t worth the trouble.

“That’s better.” Mina covered the chamber pot. “My back teeth were floating.”

“Beer for breakfast will do that.”

We watched the scenery go by, but didn’t pay much attention. You can only see so many winter scenes before they start to blur together.

“It wasn’t a traditional apprenticeship with me,” I said. “When your father is a red mage you pick up more than hedge magic. He started tutoring me when he noticed I knew more than a girl should. He told me that as long as I was going to be an oddity I might as well be a good one.”

“Did you ever fight a duel?”

I grinned.

CHAPTER 11:
MEERWEN

“Fight! Fight! Fish-Girl’s gonna fight!”

Belrothien wasn’t the smartest, but he was a decent student mage. We probably would’ve never come to blows if his friends hadn’t pushed him into it. Or pushed him into me.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” he had said, even if I was the one on the ground.

“Watch where you’re going, you big lump!”

One of his friends snickered. “She’s disrespecting you, Belroth. You gonna let that pass?”

“Yeah, big man, what’re you gonna do about it?”

“This!” Belroth slapped me gently on the cheek.

A collective “Ooh!” came from his friends.

This had been building up for some time, ever since I started attending lectures at the Mage’s Citadel. Nobody wanted to say anything since I was the Lord Governor’s daughter, but clearly there was resentment.

Belroth grinned. He was a hulk of a man and formidable with his specialty, fire magic. He stood there, hands on his hips, expecting me to cringe. So I punched him in the mouth.

It was a clumsy, untrained blow, with only my arm behind it, but it was enough to silence the laughter. Belroth wiped the blood from his lip, snarled, and stepped forward.

“Hold it, hold it! Let’s make this a proper duel.”

Belroth spluttered. “With her?”

“Wasn’t that what we were trying for?” someone else asked.

“Shut up, man!”

I stuck out my chin. “I’ll fight him right now!”

“Whoo-boy.” It was the boy who insisted on a proper duel. “Belroth struck first. That makes you the challenged. What weapons do you choose?”

“I’ll fight him with magic,” I spat. “And I’ll do it right here. I’ll need someone to act as second.”

“You be her second, Czeleborn, you like her so much.”

Czeleborn shrugged. “Will you have me as your second, miss?”

“Aren’t these your friends?”

“I am not friends with bullies. Shall we begin, gentlemen?”

“Fight! Fight! Fish-Girl’s gonna fight!”

We moved from the sidewalk to the street. We were in Restaurant Row in the merchant quarter. The streets cleared of traffic but the early lunch crowd just turned their chairs toward us. People were used to this sort of thing.

“You both know the code,” Czeleborn said. “But let me remind you that this is an academic duel. No rank is at stake, which means no death spells. Fight only until one is bloodied or disabled. Do you understand?”

We nodded.

“It’ll be noon in a minute. Take ten paces each and stop. Don’t turn until I say, but begin casting as soon as you see your opponent. No apologies are possible until each of you has fired off two spells or landed a critical hit. Stop when I say stop, separate when I say break, and fight when I say fight. Now salute.”

We thumped our chests with our fists and bowed our heads.

“I want a good clean fight. Protect yourselves at all times. Start walking.”

One. I turned and took the first step. Two. I opened my mind to the energies around me. Three. I started topping off my mana reserves. Four. I brought up my spell wheel. Glowing symbols jumped into view, seeming to float in front of my face. They were imaginary, of course, but it helped to have a focus when you were throwing around so much power.

Five. I summoned a shield of chaos. Sparks flew from my left arm as I raised it into a guard. Six. I activated the stoneskin glyph and my skin lost all sensation. Seven. I went through the gestures for the fireball spell. Basic stuff, but this was my first fight.

It was quiet on Restaurant Row. People watched. I watched them back out of the corners of my eyes. The sun was shining straight down. Eight. Nine. A drop of sweat down my lips. I couldn’t feel it because of the stoneskin enchantment, but I could taste it. Ten. I stood there, back to Belroth. I fought to keep my breathing steady. The wind ruffled my hair and smelled of the sea.

“Fight!”

I whirled, drawing fuel from the air. It swirled at my feet, lifting my skirt as I shaped it into a ball. I threw it—and it dispersed before it got halfway.

“Dammit.” I twirled, leaped, and brought down the lightning. It struck Belroth’s shield and split into arcs that passed harmlessly into the ground. “Damn, damn, damn!”

Belroth snickered. “Are you trying to kill me with panty shots?”

It’s true I wore a long, flowing skirt, but I hadn’t expected to fight a duel on the way home!