Chapter 43: In Which It's All A Piece Of Bread
I smirked and got to my feet, wondering, not for the first time, what the old man would say if he weren't obligated to say the right thing.
"Good night," I said and left his bedroom without waiting for a reply.
My heart felt watery in my chest as I made my way through the winding corridors down to my room. It was clearer to me now more than before what had motivated Harlock Cooper to go so far as kill himself so that he could have revenge. Along with this knowledge I was strangely exhilarated, for I knew for the very first time what I had to do, what I wanted to do.
I wanted to find the man capable of killing an infant girl - Luenelaine's killer. I wanted to know who he was, I wanted to see the whites of his eyes and find a tender place in his soul that I would fill with suffering. Suddenly every Wielder in the Tournament seemed a likely suspect; I passed their names and faces through my mind's eye, daring them to show me their true colours.
I changed and got into my bed, my blood bubbling with sinister excitement. I would rip my opponents apart; I would bring shame to them, I would destroy their names and their pride. I was going to win tomorrow, and always.
Even in my sleep that night, my mind was occupied with anger.
***
We strode down the corridor in the direction of our waiting room and had to pause and move aside to allow the passage of several people in Jumma outfits carrying two stretchers with two limp men in them. It was Fordalios and Malvidas of Jumma, two magicians who had made quite a name for themselves. Whether they deserved their reputations was up for speculation for they were both unconscious and dripping wet.
Burgen whistled between his teeth when they were out of earshot and shook his head. "I would have loved watching that fight, wonder what Kir-Moot did to them."
"Only the worst," I promised. I was less concerned about how badly beaten those two were, what interested me was the fact that they were wet. Water, in one form or another, was a hint of the terrain.
"Kir-Mootians are ruthless people," I added, the memory of a particular slave trader making me feel a little queasy.
"At least they train their women Wielders as well though."
I nodded, Burgen and I were of the same opinion on that matter. It was a waste not to allow women to become magicians. "Even though they're still ruthless."
"Maybe the women more so," Burgen said. I nodded, knowing which woman in particular he was referring to.
"You shouldn't concern yourselves with such irrelevant matters," said the Grand Master's voice from behind us. We both stopped and turned and waited for him to limp his way towards us, his cane clicking on the tiled floor. "There are only two things you need to be discussing. One is Gruitfeld and the other is Effe."
Burgen and I exchanged glances, I could not help myself, I shrugged.
"We've already discussed that," I said.
"Deeply," Burgen added helpfully.
"Oh?" asked the skeptical Grand Master.
"Burgen'll take down one," I said, "I'll take down the other, and that's it, it's going to be a piece of bread."
"Cake," Burgen corrected.
"We didn't have cake in the streets. we said bread," I paused, "Although, if you think about it, we didn't have that either."
"Neither of you has the right to speak this way," the Grand Master grumbled. We reached the waiting room's open door and he pushed us both forward with surprising strength. Burgen and I stumbled in sheepishly. "Effe Nisbee has been making the crowds in the Tournaments gasp with awe long before you were born and Gruitfeld Kogg started competing when he was younger than even you are and every year he grows stronger."
"I know," I said, my mood growing dark at being scolded by the old man. "I saw him, they're both strong, but I know I can win."
"Do not fool yourself into believing that you are the only one who is talented." The Grand Master berated me. "Even Cooper did not win the gold in his first Tournament. Remember, boy, that while you may be special here, out there, among war magicians like you, you are just ordinary."
My face grew hot and I felt my temper flare. "Why are you telling me this now?" I snapped. "Are you purposefully trying to make me lose? Are you trying to make me scared? You're the one who told me a million times for three years that my only option is to win!"
"Your arrogance won't win this competition, boy. You must put your pride aside to be able to win."
"Well you've chosen a grand time to lecture me," I fumed. "You could have put in a word or two when you were trying to read my mind."
The old man and I had a history of arguments. Some had been terrible, others had simply been a petty clashing of two stubborn people. It was in the bad ones that I always ended up saying something I immediately regretted. The expression he wore whenever I crossed the line always created a ball of nerves in the pit of my stomach. I had grown up in a world where my words had no meaning, but with the old man they were suddenly strong enough to sting.
There was an awkward silence, broken by Burgen kicking his heel against one of the metal-framed chairs; the sound made me look down at the floor and that was where I kept my eyes.
The Tournament official arrived just on time. "If you are both ready," he said tartly, as always, regarding me with no fondness what-so-ever. "then let us proceed to the gates, I will briefly remind you of a few select rules as we walk..."
***
It was a day of glorious spring sunshine and the crowd sitting in rows upon rows round the arena was washed in golden light. They were probably bathing in warmth, maybe even sweating, the sun beating down on their backs and faces.
But where we stood inside the arena, it was as if the sun shone through heavy snow clouds. The air was thin with cold, fog steaming through our mouths as we breathed. We stood on ice, smooth and blindingly white.
Both of us fought to maintain our balance as we stepped onto the exceptionally slippery surface. The arena looked similar to the way it had been in the previous round, but instead of stone platforms hovering in midair, there were ice platforms floating on what seemed to be the coldest water I had ever encountered.
And there was something else too, inside the water. I narrowed my eyes at the large dark shapes until a black triangular fin peeked out like a blade from between the ice platforms.
Were those sharks?
A lump rose in my throat and at the same time Burgen made a peculiar noise. "Let's not fall into the water," I said and he nodded. I felt that my face was betraying the fact that while I had never actually seen a real shark, the stories about them were so terrifying that I couldn't hide my fear. Fortunately, the two men from Bordinary were so far away they couldn't see the flush of my skin.
The golden Sky-Monk cut through the sky above our heads and at the sight of him, the sharks seemed less menacing. After all, they were there to make us fear, but they were not a real danger; the only danger was in our heads. Like before, he announced the rules, and added the new rules for the new terrain, "You are forbidden to kill the sharks. If you stay below water for more than two minutes, you shall be disqualified. The team with at least one man standing upon the ice will be victorious."
I shifted my weight, trying to grow accustomed to the treacherous ice.
"Begin!" cried the Sky Monk, and the torch in the holster burst into flame.
Burgen tried to take a step forward, slipped and fell flat on his back. I tried to keep him from falling and nearly slipped myself. Ice was certainly a disadvantage for Auranorans. We did not have lakes that traditionally froze over; when it snowed in winter it always rained right after, washing the snow away. Our climate was the warmest in the area. We only heard the stories, and fibs, about the great ice dancers of our neighbouring countries. From across the arena, our Bordinary opponents were advancing with a certain degree of grace, leaping from one ice platform to another as if they had walked on ice their entire lives. Maybe they had. On snow holidays, did they tie blades to their boots and glide across the surfaces of the frozen lakes? Seeing them now, it seemed like those stories had to be true.
It was a matter of seconds before we would be subject to their attacks and I had to make a decision. If I lost Burgen now, I would be hard pressed defeating both of them by myself right from the start. I needed to learn their styles and come up with some sort of scheme. If I was stuck with improvising the whole way, there was a chance that I wouldn't receive enough points to make it to the final stage.
I leapt into the air, creating multiple blades on the soles of my shoes so that my feet would grip the ice. I landed with my knees bent and in that very moment, I launched my attack. They were still rather far away, but that was perhaps to my advantage.
I tried to make a subtle attack, using the friction their movement made in the air and water to shove them back. Effe was the shorter one, with grey-streaked black hair and a serious disposition. He got caught in my spell before he knew it, and the harder he pushed forward, the stronger my spell became, until he was frozen in place, unable to go forward or backward. It was Gruitfeld, a young man with long light-brown hair and a handsome face, who managed to sidestep my magic and tried to sneak an attack at me.
Just in time, from behind me, Burgen recovered and joined in on the fight, shielding me from Gruitfeld's spell and attacking him at the same time.
Burgen was not much when it came to offensive moves; he wasn't creative or insistent enough. He had improved profoundly over the years that I knew him, but even so, his attacks were never as convincing as his defences.
It was as if Gruitfeld knew what Burgen would do before Burgen finished forming the thought. I felt the shift of power as Gruitfeld opened his mouth and sucked in Burgen's spell rather than dodging it. The air rippled as he spat it out, a cold wind rushing our way. Only then did I realised what Burgen had tried to do. He had used the natural cold in the air to create a freezing spell. It wasn't a bad idea, but now it was coming our way tenfold.
I didn't want to find out how cold the rebounding spell was. I was busy with half my mind holding Effe in place, adding more and more subtle knots to the spell and thickening its complexity. Even so, I could feel Effe's intervening magic ripping the bonds apart. I wouldn't be able to hold him for long, without giving it my full attention.
From my body, a pillar of flame rose, cutting high into the sky. Like wind, I could hear the crowd gasping at what must have been a surprising display. I hurled the flame forward and it cut through the cold, through the ice, right to Gruitfeld who choked it off with little effort.
From the distance I could see him grinning; he stood back and waited for something.
"Get Effe." I managed to say before there was a sound like dry cackling from the ice at our feet. A great big crack appeared right between my legs, midnight black against the dazzling white. I leapt to one side, my arms flailing as I fought for balance and Burgen was sent sailing away on a small shard of ice big enough for just his two feet.
I saw him bend back and forth; dancing as the small ice triangle he stood on bobbed in the cold water. It is not a wise thing to have a duel with someone you care about by your side. I stared at him helplessly; knowing full well that he had to help himself because otherwise it wouldn't add to either of us when the points were tallied.
But he distracted me enough to allow Effe to break out of my binding and Gruitfeld vanished from sight, I sent out my mind instantly over the arena trying to find him and leapt around to face him just as he appeared behind me. Close attacks had the potential of being dangerous, but they were also easier to deflect.
I shot forward an attack of my own at precisely the same moment he shot his. At a loss for the best thing to do, I tried my favourite trick, to tie a knot in his shadow, which ought to make his mind and movement sluggish.
I got him, but he got me too.