Chapter Fourteen

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Combat Magic classes were a lot like Fightclub; namely, it was another class in which Niamh was beaten by pretty much everyone. It didn't help that Niamh was coming into a highly competitive arena in which she was like a billion years behind the next newest student. She'd known that going in, and she knew it wasn't her fault, but it still didn't make it easy. Neither did Bridget, their teacher and Molly's mum.

Bridget seemed to think Niamh didn't need any specific instruction; rather she just let Niamh sit at the back of the room while she went along with her usual lesson. The room was divided into two sides. Each side had a row of five desks at which two people could sit. Niamh sat next to Myrna. Across the aisle from her, Killian sat next to Lochlan. Molly and Owen were in front of them.

"We all know combat magic uses physical magic as strength. The use of physical force to attack opponents," Bridget was saying. "Let us go over, for the sake of some of our class, why we rarely use combat magic, even when it is our speciality?"

Chloe, a girl who apparently liked nothing more than to leer at Niamh, stuck her hand up and Bridget motioned for her to speak. "Put plainly, it is a question of honour. All Sidhe have magic of some sort, the real test of our abilities lies in our hand to hand combat." She smiled prettily at Bridget and Niamh heard Lochlan snort.

"Yes, Chloe. So, what can you do with physical force? Kane likes you to think about it in terms of attack or defence, but what else can you do with physical magic that isn't violent?"

"Woah! Hey, my arm!" One of the boys yelled and his arm rose. Niamh was sure his name was Fergus.

His best friend, Fergal, was sniggering.

"Good, Fergal." Bridget smiled, and then looked around the room. "Who else? Niamh?"

Niamh looked around, panicking. The whole class was looking at her. Bridget stood at the front of the class, arms crossed and looked like she was just calmly waiting for Niamh to do something spectacular. Niamh looked to the students she considered her friends. Molly had a look of mortification of her face, mouthing what Niamh thought was 'I'm sorry' over and over. Owen looked a bit pained. Lochlan looked like Bridget had suggested she flash her chest, or something terrible. Killian just didn't look at her. She felt Myrna squeeze her hand.

"Well, Niamh?" Bridget pressed.

Niamh knew from her reading that fae magic was predominantly glorified wishful thinking. The purpose of places like Gryffynhall was to teach them what they could do, what they should not do, and hopefully let them loose on the world with decent morals - in the elf-sense of the word - and the skills they would need to be useful to their fiann and tuath. Those Sidhe who didn't attend places like Gryffynhall weren't the kind who joined or trained fianna or Troops. Niamh wasn't sure what their jobs were or how they were educated, but she assumed she would find that out sometime.

"Mum, give her a break. It's her first lesson," Molly said quietly.

Bridget flashed her daughter a look that gave the phrase 'stared daggers' a run for its money. Then, she turned her withering gaze on Niamh.

"If Niamh is unable to perform up to standard, then perhaps extra classes are needed?" Chloe said, her smile practically dripping venom.

"Good idea, Chloe," Bridget smiled. "After hours classes should sort Niamh's lack of...background." She turned to the rest of the class. "Now, the rest of you, I want you bright and ready for the practical on Thursday. It's going to be rough." She clapped her hands and the class was dismissed.

Niamh dragged her feet, hoping to be lost among the crowd on her way out. She succeeded, if only because her friends bundled around her.

Molly kept throwing her apologetic glances and Lochlan put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.

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