~Chapter Three: Magical Dueling~

Every magic school in Alemia was centered on a dungeon. They were perfect sources of dense Mana, and any aspiring mage learned more quickly when their soul wasn’t struggling to refill itself between classes. Most schools balanced the risk and reward by keeping their dungeons culled, reducing both monsters and Mana flow to reasonable levels.

Varin’s Academy’s dungeon was the marble tower at the exact center of its circular outer wall.

It was also the library Eola would be visiting after she met with Instructor Tarik to discuss…remedial lessons.

And, beyond its first floor, it was pretty much unculled—or as the librarian-mages who guarded the first gate said, unweeded.

Eola budgeted her time at the academy wisely, and Mana Studies was a waste of it. She listened as the tiny, red-colored gnome named Madame Reyanna led the class through soul-expansion exercises, paying attention only enough to go through the motions. Her soul had plenty of Mana already—probably as much as Madame Reyanna’s. The physical stretches were easy, and it wasn’t like the professor could see inside of Eola’s soul to see if she was actually doing the exercises. Instead, she used that time to mentally review her handful of combat runes.

Introduction to Monsters was much more interesting, if only because it had the possibility of answering one of Eola’s questions. But no, Instructor Clearance—a hamadryad, of all things, who taught her class from her home in a yew tree in Varin’s greenhouse—was more focused on phantasms today. Eola spent that hour sweltering, along with the other students, and flipping through the textbook in search of monsters with yellow eyes.

And then there was Eola’s favorite class—the one class where, at least for now, she was better than most of her peers. Magical Dueling. It didn’t require First Order casting, and Eola was good at Child’s Magic. She was also good at languages, and that was only a bonus for the professor.

Maestro Yarrowbloom taught the class, and Eola was his favorite sparring partner to demonstrate new techniques with—not Catrine, who was ahead of her magically and was going to be a spellsword—but Eola, who knew what the elf was asking for based on the elvish names for attacks, guards, and counters.

Today, they were working on theory and timing, not practice duels. Maestro Yarrowbloom lectured as the few dozen students stood facing each other across the fencing pitch, blades at first guard. “The dance of Taron-Li is one of balance. The barrier, rune, and blade work together as one. Spell-swords are not defensive weapons. They, not magic, are how a battle-mage wins their fights. Child’s Magic exploits the openings the blade’s threat creates. And the Xen-Da covers those openings. A proper battle-mage knows all three, but a true one masters each.”

Taron-Li was the Emerald Script word for honorable battle, and Xen-Da were the suite of Child’s Magic and First Order barrier spells that spellswords used. An exhibition duel between two spellswords would leave the pitch littered with half-shattered barriers that hung in the air and dissipated randomly, a maze of shields that blocked magic, blade, and body alike. It was chaos, with the winner the mage most able to adapt, not the stronger one. Eola loved watching spellsword exhibitions, even if she could admit the restriction on higher-Order spells made them a bit silly. They were still exciting no matter what.

Today, they’d be casting a single barrier in a predictable placement.

A little less exciting.

Eola’s eyes followed Colin’s sword tip as it traced the Child’s Magic symbol for Safe Shield. Her suite-mate was one of the slowest, most methodical casters she’d ever seen, and even the most basic Xen-Da took him a full five seconds to draw and three to fill. It was perfect, though. The bubbly, shimmering barrier looked like oil on water, hanging in the air between them.

“Ready,” Colin breathed.

“En garde,” Eola muttered. She lunged, sword-tip punching into the barrier and stopping dead.

“Your basic Xen-Da, like Safe Shield, is a staple of battle-mage combat,” Maestro Yarrowbloom said as she launched a second attack at the slowly-fizzling spell. “Today, we focus on the blade and barrier before adding the final two elements of Taron-Li. Who can name them?”

No one raised their hand, but a boy coughed once and said, “Offensive magic and movement.”

Catrine snorted. Eola ignored her. Instead, she ran through the two-symbol Forsooth Script of offset circles quickly, finishing her sketch after a second or two. It wasn’t as pretty as Colin’s had been, but she filled it almost instantly, and her own barrier popped into being between her and the boy’s sword tip. “Ready.”

“Attacking!” Colin’s sword punched forward. It hit the barrier and, just like hers, stopped in place. Three strikes later, her Safe Shield was gone. In a real fight, Colin would have danced around it, and it would have stayed hovering mid-air, waiting to interfere with someone’s movements.

“Continue until one partner’s soul begins straining, then stop to discuss the Taron-Li so far,” Maestro Yarrowbloom said. Eola nodded and waited for Colin to finish his cast. Then she lunged.

Behind her, Catrine finished a spell and hammered her sword against Garreth Skaget’s Safe Shield. The shield held for about half a second under the assault—Eola recognized it as Force Flare—then buckled and broke. The spell knocked him ten feet back, only to land on his bottom as half the class laughed. He laughed along with his attacker.

“No spells, Lady Andrese,” Yarrowbloom said.

“Sorry, sir, I couldn’t resist.”

Eola managed to ignore even the showboating noblewoman, though. Magical Dueling was by far the best class in the first-years’ schedule—even if she couldn’t compete with First Order magic.

Instructor Tarik’s office was so messy it made Eola want to scream.

Stacks of dog-eared books covered every surface, and balled-up parchment had formed a mound in the corner. It smelled like paper, ink, and coffee gone cold. In the corner, a dust-covered smallsword sat in a half-sheath, and the black rabbit familiar the professor had summoned in class the day before looked at Eola from a pile of wool coats. The rabbit looked almost as nervous as Eola felt.

She moved a complete but out-of-order set of Ordered Magic Primer, Volumes One Through Eight, off a rickety chair, then sat in front of the professor’s desk. Her hands desperately wanted to fidget—to trace runes on her wrists. She forced herself to stay still.

Behind the plain oak desk, Instructor Tarik watched her like a hawk. Neither talked for almost a minute. Then the professor tapped the desk. “I’ve been thinking about the ideogram you used earlier today, Miss Lemiene. It was structurally perfect—the second-best in the class, in fact. I expected Lady Andrese’s to be better, but no. Mr. Tremory’s alone was superior, and at his speed, it should be. Your ideogram work is as close to flawless as I’ve seen in a first-year student’s. Can you draw it again for me?”

A piece of chalk appeared on the desk, along with a slab of slate. Eola nodded and got to work, quickly outlining the three circles of Old Alemic, then adding the central diamond. It took almost twenty seconds. Chalk was forgiving, but it was also easier to make mistakes in it. Still, in the end, it was correct.

“The whole ideogram, Miss Lemiene.”

She swallowed. Then she added her fake little diamond in the top right corner, right on the edge of the outer circle, her face hot.

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“That’s what I thought. You used a false attunement modifier. Why?” the professor asked, leaning forward.

Eola didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say, really. There were only a few reasons to use a false modifier, and while Eola was good at Magical Dueling, neither she nor her classmates were good enough to need to trick each other like that. Besides, according to Instructor Tarik’s lecture last week, using them on First-Order spells didn’t work. Only attunement modifiers did, and only because they didn’t impact the spell’s structure.

So, Eola kept her mouth shut, and the professor waited her out. It turned into an awkward, tense battle of the wills, and in the end, Eola won.

“Fine.” Tarik sighed and rubbed his eyes for a moment. “Generally speaking, professors aren’t supposed to ask this question until the end of a student’s first year, when it becomes necessary for their education. However, I have a theory, and if I’m correct, it’s necessary right now. In fact, it was necessary weeks ago. Eola Lemiene, what is your attunement?”

“Unattuned Mana,” Eola whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut. Here it was—the end. She’d made it three weeks, but a mage without an attunement couldn’t learn Ordered Magic. That was an inviolable law of nature. She’d be kicked out for sure.

“Interesting.” Instructor Tarik went quiet, and Eola heard pages turning. Then they stopped.

When she risked a peek, Instructor Tarik had Eola’s notes open and a pen in his hand. She watched as he crossed out words in her notebook, anger warring with curiosity. What was he doing? Was he making corrections? And why?

“Your Ideogram work is functionally perfect.” Instructor Tarik set the book on the desk, and Eola’s hands reached out to snatch it and tuck it into her pocket, where it belonged. Then she went back to watching the professor as he steepled his fingers on his desk. “So, a would-be mage with no attunement comes to Varin’s Academy, with the highest introductory score in Ideograms in the year. She—“

“Unattuned Mana.”

“What?”