WOLVES MIST - Chapter 2(.5)
#11 of Wolves Mist
Almost seven months have gone by since the choosing Skye thought to himself quietly. He thought about the scant few times that he'd gotten to see his brother. Snow had seemed happy though and Skye could swear that his brother had grown even taller. He'd definitely added even more muscle to his already big frame.
"Shields!" the referee's voice cried out, bringing him back to the present.
Skye flung up a shield over the two inner shields erected by other mages. The Grandmaster had told him of jousting accidents in the dim past.
"Mages ready?" the voice boomed. Skye and his opponent both nodded their assent.
This was his final bout, having bested all the others in the jousting games. He was happy to see his brother on the stands to his left, sitting with a space between him and the Grandmaster. The space was most likely Chris.
"Begin!" the voice yelled out as the referee stepped out of the battle circle.
Skye quickly formed a simple thought and flung out a blast of air. It hammered at his opponent's shield at the same time Skye saw the ball of flame hurtling toward him. Skye held out his hand as if to command it to stop, a ball of ice appeared and the flame hissed wetly into it. Skye had long ago realised that others relied too much on their shields to absorb spells, but the drain was heavier than simply countering an opponent's move.
He flung out another thought. The sand in front of him pulled up and hung like a wall before him. Another quick thought and the wall sparkled a thousand sharp flashes of light blinding almost everyone as the mirrored shards reflected the glaring light of the sun into their eyes. Skye focused his inner sight and pushed it away from him for a brief moment. He saw his opponent holding up his arm shielding his eyes from the glare. Another thought sped away bursting through the wall of sand. Skye fed as much strength into it as he dared. The ball of flame flared a bright blue as it hissed across the arena and slammed into his opponents shield. A startled cry of pain at the sudden onslaught burst from his opponent who dropped to a knee, those in the crowd not blinded cheered loudly at the unexpected move. Skye cut off the flow of energy and the wall of sand dropped to the ground. He shaped two intricate thoughts, a difficult feat, but one he'd practiced. His opponent had recovered his composure and Skye could see him readying to cast. Skye ignited both his spells as soon as he'd finished. He knew he'd likely get scolded for this at length by the Grandmaster, but he wanted to make this a quick and resounding victory.
A spear of ice sped across the sandy field and a lance of flame held pace parallel to it. He could hear the crowd gasp at such a reckless and dangerous move. To Skye's dismay the ice and fire lance shattered against a wall of force his opponent had managed to barely erect before the lances would have battered his shield. The crowd cheered at the quick defence.
Skye realised that this was going to be a much harder joust than he'd anticipated. His opponent had command of only three elements as was attested by the banding of orange, silver and water. The young red headed mage was extremely skilled though, he had to be to have made it to this final round. Skye waited to see what his opponents' next move would be. The young mages fans started chanting his name. "Nixtar, Nixtar, Nixtar!" Skye's own fans returned in kind. The noise was near deafening.
A quick successions of ice shards pelted across the field. Skye slammed them down with a blast of air. After a moment a purple beam shot out of Nixtars hands. Skye hadn't anticipated such a direct attack with spirit and erected a warding shield that cut the beams flow so it scythed past him on either side. He shifted his inner vision and studied the spell-form. It was a rather simple one. Skye quickly read from the pattern that it was a direct pain inducer. The spell-form disappeared as Nixtar cut off the flow of energy to it, the bright purple beam disappearing.
Skye structured the spell-form in front of his own hands as he brought them up. Another thing he was going to get lectured about he was sure, using a form he'd only learnt in a few moments was exceedingly dangerous. Skye released the bright beam from his hands. Nixtar brought up a shield quickly the same as Skye had and the beam split and passed him harmlessly by.
Skye split his thoughts again shaping two spell-forms. He quickly released it and a volley of air-hammers flung from him, then concentrated his full attention on the remaining form.
Nixtar let the volley slam his shield. Only a few of them hitting their mark, Skye hadn't been focused on where he was casting. He was simply trying to buy a little time. Nixtar must have thought victory was near at hand as he released another ball of hissing flame. Skye let it slam his shield, wincing a bit at the half felt echo of pain as his magic drew on him slightly to compensate and keep the shield maintained. Laboriously he lay the lines and forms into the shape he was constructing, it was a very large and intensely difficult spell. Something else he'd get berated over as well a small part of his mind not focused on the spell creation smirked. Skye squashed the thought and flung even that part of his mind into the task at hand. The world around him cut out black as his focus was so intent even his inner sight winked out. There was only him and the form he was creating. He dimly felt too more twinges of pain as other spells battered his shield. Laying the last marker in place, Skye's sight returned. He let the shape flow from his mind and hang above the ground, expanding it to take up nearly a quarter of the field. He readied himself thinking this is going to hurt. Bracing his mental barriers he ignited the spell. The pull of fire, spirit and air hammered through him from his gateways. The pain seared through him and a sheen of sweat covered him instantly, his sight wavered for a brief moment.
Around him the crowd was silent as they stared in awe at what he had wrought.
Skye moved his hand and the flaming outline of the dragon he had created flared. The flames stretched from the lines inwards meeting. The dragon form was now covered in scales of flickering flame.
Skye pushed the pain running through him away, but didn't succeed very well. This spell was nearing his limits. He flashed his thoughts at the dragon spell-form. Its long neck arched up and belched a flame. He forced it to rear up and leap into the air, pulled its body taught and forced it to his will.
Then he aimed it and set it free. The flaming form flared brightly as it speared downwards toward Nixtar who stood stunned staring at it like an apparition. Nixtar gathered his wits and erected more barriers of force with his spirit magic, the flaming creation crashed through each successive one without losing speed. In a moment it battered into his shield, the flaring flames licking around it's form so that a dome of fire seemed to stand in its place. The shield collapsed and the flames dropped down onto the next dome. Skye cut his flow to the magic, barely keeping himself from dropping to his own knees in exhaustion and relief.
The crowds cheering filled the stadium like the onslaught of a hurricane. Skye watched all the faces around him. His notice was drawn to something strange. A man stood still near the lower wall, something in front of him.
Skye focused his sight and with instant recognition and a cold blast of fear flung himself from where he was standing. A sudden scream ripped from the crowd. The man who had held the crossbow lay on the arena floor unmoving. Skye's sight took in the bolt sticking from the sand where he had been standing only scant few seconds ago. He saw the Grandmaster and Snow rushing up to him from the left, other warriors coming from the right, the crowd still yelling and pointing behind him, Nixtar on his knees in the distance in front of him. Skye sat up slowly and turned towards the Grandmaster, then toppled over as the stress of the moment overrode his senses and forced him into the waiting arms of unconsciousness.