Chapter 9: Blade to blade
By the time Marco's wind blade hit the wall behind Cael, the knight himself already rushed towards Cael, the second spell on his lips.
Cael didn't fall behind with his own magic. An Arcane Arrow spell—a thin but solid arrow of pure magic—flew from his fingers towards Marco. But Cael was so intent on putting more distance between himself and the opponent that his aim was off.
Marco ducked under the arrow and sent his own spell—another wind blade, but only palm-sized. Cael dashed to the side again, but this time the attack got close enough that he heard it buzzing over his ear.
They continued to throw cantrips at each other. The first exchange drained Cael of a hefty portion of his mana, and he knew Marco was the same. All the while, they kept running around their arena, with Marco constantly trying to push forward and press Cael into a wall. The only reason Marco didn't succeed was Cael's enchantment—and that the training hall had no corners.
The knight got the first hit when Cael slipped and dodged in a wrong direction. It was just a glance that smashed harmlessly at Cael's shoulder, but he felt the slight tremble of his Father's shield. It weakened slightly, but the mana within was still strong.
"First blood," Marco commented, which was his mistake. Cael used his distraction to even the count with an arrow that hit Marco's chest.
"Don't get distracted, Marco!" Father called out from the side he was at. A slightly opaque spherical shield protected him from stray attacks.
Marco huffed, but nodded. Both he and Cael breathed heavily. Cael's heart beat like a drum, his blood screaming in his ears with excitement, while his body asked for a breather. His opponent paused to catch a breath, too.
Moving like this was exerting, but having to constantly chanting spells didn't help fighters to save their stamina.
The lull in the fight let Cael examine his state. He had about half a mana pool left, enough for another first rank spell, even a sloppy one, with some cantrips to spare. But the Windstride spell on his feet was fading away, and Cael knew that without it, Marco would pin him to a wall like a butterfly. In melee range, Marco had an advantage and wasn't afraid to push it.
He needed a plan. Cael swiftly recalled spells in his arsenal. There were plenty, but it made picking an optimal one only harder. One, though, fit the situation perfectly. He didn't practice it before, but he got the hang of first rank spells yesterday.
Marco has thought something up, too. Instead of rushing Cael again, he began to chant a new spell, and the time for planning was over. It wasn't a Lesser Wind Blade—this Cael understood from the first surge of Marco's mana.
Just to give Marco nothing to worry about, Cael threw another Arcane Arrow—by then they only took him a moment to cast—and grinned when it hit Marco's shoulder. The knight's dodge was too slow, but he didn't stop his chant.
"*…let my steps…*"
*He's going to cast Windstride!* Cael realized. *This might actually work to my advantage.*
Cael stopped, too, and hurried through the words of his next spell. It didn't matter how much mana he wasted in his hurry, because if he failed this, Marco would turn him into a pincushion, anyway. "*Wrath divine, thunderbolts of the sky, let thy power…*"
Marco's spell was complete. The knight dashed towards Cael, too quick for him to avoid the confrontation.
Cael dashed to the side again, saving precious seconds. The last words fell from his lips. "*…gather in my hand!*"
A blade of the training rapier, dulled but still able to leave nasty bruises or worse, flew towards Cael's throat.
His bare palm, sparkling with an electric charge, stopped it only centimeters away from the skin. Cael's shield wobbled a little, a bit more of mana leaving it, but Cael only grabbed Marco's rapier tighter.
The next happened in an instant. The charge of the spell left Cael to flow through the metal of Marco's weapon into the knight himself. Lightning cracked and sparkled, attacking Marco's shield.
Marco's eyes widened. For a heartbeat, the fight froze on a precipice of a win or a loss… Then, Marco's shield shattered, letting a few remaining lightning sparks to singe his skin and clothing.
"Curses!" Marco exclaimed, pulling back. "What was that?!"
"Hm… The Lightning Touch?" Gianni approached Cael and Marco, looking at them with furrowed brows. He scratched his chin. "I almost forgot I had it in our library."
Cael grinned at his victory. "Not surprising. It was in the darkest corner of the library, in The Book of Touch."
His father blinked. "I recall something like this… Hm. Well, you certainly showed a surprising dedication to magical arts, Cael. While you, Marco… You rely on your fencing skills too much. Might and magic should work in common."
"Thank you, Milordo," Marco put a hand to his chest and bowed.
"You will have a prime opportunity to fix your mistakes in the future. Marco, you will be Cael's sparring partner until he can train with his brother. Your second-in-command will help you with your other responsibilities. Now, both of you, rest. Cael, I will bring you your training schedule tomorrow."
"It's an honor, Milordo!" Marco said with more feeling.
Cael flashed him a smile before turning to Gianni and giving him a deep nod. "Yes, Father."
When Gianni left, Marco turned to look at Cael. His face stayed impassive, but there was approval shining in the knight's eyes.
"That was most impressive, signore Cael. Especially for someone who only learned how to use spells yesterday. Your father has told me… As well as the cook and three other soldiers. By now, I think, the rumor had spread through the entire city."
"Thanks, Marco," Cael laughed. "Impressive. I am impressive now—in a month, I swear, I will be amazing!"
Marco shook his head. "Just don't fly too high into the clouds."
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