Although it wasn't necessarily new information, it did get me thinking. For all his strengths and abilities, Cyrus was incredibly insecure. It was easy to draw his ire with a comment about how he wasn't Alexandra's son, or anything having to do with his magical abilities. He'd certainly become immune to Alexandra's critiques, but for me, it was especially easy to get a rise out of him. I normally didn't because I didn't want to deal with the consequences.
In a match, would it make him more focused, or might he make a mistake?
I reread the passages, trying to glean what Mora was trying to get me to understand. I could try to remain unconcerned by him in the ring; that tended to drive him mad. But would it result in his making a grave mistake?
Rubbing my face, I sighed wearily and picked up her note once more, imagining her hasty scribbles and the way she furrowed her brow when she concentrated.
Please don't die.
Such a simple phrase, but it was enough to light a fire. She'd said perhaps I hadn't wanted to win enough, and that was why I'd lost. But now, knowing my girl would be waiting, I owed it to her to try with everything I had.
I summoned a pen and blank piece of paper.
Mora,
Induction match is in two weeks' time, and I'm hoping for a miracle. If something happens to me, or you're unsuccessful in convincing Ashley, I want you to know I've treasured these past few weeks with you. If I somehow make it out alive, I'm taking you to Rome so we can throw the second and third coin in.
Love, G
The librarian was still at her desk, and she looked up with a smile as I approached with the book in hand.
"Did you find it interesting?" she asked as I handed it to her.
"I did," I said with a nod. "But perhaps you could give it back to Mora. I think—"
"Or maybe I'll just give her this note." She plucked the note out from between the pages and shook her head. "As if you two are the first to try this trick."
My cheeks warmed. "You'll give it to her, then?"
She nodded. "Now get out of here before I change my mind."
"May I…may I borrow that book, actually?" I said, thinking.
"Sure, just fill out this application for a library card," she said, handing me a paper form. "You're local, right?"
"In a manner of speaking," I replied, unsure of what she wanted me to do. "Actually, I'll just come back tomorrow to read it."
"Suit yourself," she said with a shrug.
Before I returned to New Salem, I summoned the book before falling through the tear.
Seventeen
Our induction match was quickly approaching, and since Alexandra was allowing us to rest and prepare, there was little to do but contemplate. Despite what Mora had said about finding Cyrus's weakness, I doubted he would be stupid enough to goad into making a mistake. If anything, my sniping might increase his focus. Then I'd be dead and he'd simply be smug.
Still, I'd been brewing healing potions and taking them morning and evening, hoping to boost whatever latent magic I had. He'd been bragging on that strength for days now; whenever I'd see him in the hallway, he'd make a comment about how he'd be sure to make it quick when he killed me. The more I read about narcissists in the book Mora had given me, the more I began to notice Cyrus's predictable behavior. He did consider himself superior, and although he had some evidence to support it, he was also a little too confident. About everything.
Of course, there was nothing in the book that would help me defeat the man in a ring. Most of the chapter dedicated to narcissists seemed to recommend capitulation—make eye contact but don't insult, don't disagree, don't criticize, don't show weaknesses. Short of turning over and letting him kill me, none of the tips seemed very helpful.
Cyrus was in his element in the town, surrounding himself with magicals who fawned over him with compliments. Alexandra had forbidden us from visiting the local taverns—saying it was in our best interests to keep free from drink while we were in our apprenticeship. Cyrus was openly flaunting that order now, swaggering in drunk every evening as I put together our dinner.
"Such a shame your last days are being spent in here," he said, slurring his words. "You should get out, lie with a woman. See what you're missing before the world goes dark on you."
Thus far, I'd ignored his comments, but in light of all I'd been reading, I thought I might try a different tactic.
"I do believe you're right."
He stumbled then turned to look at me. "What did you say?"
"I said you were right," I said, with a shrug. "I should get out and enjoy the world, shouldn't I? Perhaps I'll pay that Mary a visit. She said she was interested in me. Perhaps I'll sire a Warrior before you kill me."
He blinked as his inebriated mind worked through what I'd said.
"I mean, after all, I do have a bloodline." I snuck a look and held in a smile at the open anger growing on his face. "Alexandra said it was my duty to continue what she'd started."
Cyrus snatched the tray off the table and stormed into the dining room. I followed with the tea kettle, pleased I'd won that round, at least.
Alexandra was already seated at the table, her gaze narrowed on Cyrus as he clunked the tray down and slid into his seat.
"Such grace, Cyrus," she said, before turning to him fully. "Have you been visiting Humbert's tavern, by chance? I can smell the ale on your breath."
He blanched and my eyebrows went up. "No, Mistress. Of course not. You forbade it. I would never disobey you."
Which might've worked had a beer-soaked belch not come from his lips.
"And the day before your sparring match," she said with a shake of her head. "One might get the impression you're not taking this seriously."
"Gavon—"
"What? Did he force your mouth open and pour the alcohol down your throat?" Alexandra asked. "He has been here, studying and preparing for the match."
Cyrus's face now resembled one of those strawberries I'd seen in the grocery store, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep my face passive.
"Go upstairs," she said, removing his food and drink from the table. "I don't want you to get sick over my table."
With a snarl, Cyrus shot up and stormed out of the room, the slamming door echoing in the room as I waited for Alexandra's next move.
She picked up her tea cup and took a hesitant sip. "Interesting."
"What?"
"Cyrus frequents that tavern at least once a week, but he normally has the sense to fake illness instead of joining us here. I wonder why he came to dinner today, then?" Her eyes sparkled with something like amusement as she surveyed me over the rim of her cup.
"Perhaps he made a mistake," I offered.
"Be careful, son," Alexandra said. "You push him too far, it might result in something undesirable."
"I'm not doing a thing," I replied with a look.
"Make yourself useful, then," she said. "Mary has asked you to bring her more bread tonight, so she'll have plenty to sell tomorrow for the match. If you're to die, as Cyrus is suggesting, perhaps you'll bring her enough to be getting on with."
Although I knew I shouldn't invite it, I couldn't help myself. "And why aren't you asking me to give you the potion I've been using, if I'm to die?"
She lifted a shoulder. "Maybe I'm optimistic you'll survive."
As long as I lived, I would never understand Alexandra, but I ventured into the village anyway, looking for Mary. The villagers, normally in their homes at this hour, were milling around, carrying mugs of ale and openly cheering when I walked by. I waved at them weakly, not wanting to engage any of them in conversation or, worse, be forced to drink with them. If Cyrus wished to be sick for our match, so be it.
"Master Gavon," Mary said, jumping to her feet when I walked through the door. "Oh, this is a surprise. I'm so sorry things aren't clean here for you."
"Alexandra said you wanted more bread," I replied.
"Of course, but…" Her cheeks had grown rosy. "I didn't expect you
to come tonight. I mean, of course, I'll take it, but…"
I handed her another pile of crumbs, the last of bread I'd been slowly breaking pieces off. I didn't miss the disappointment on her face.
"It isn't enough?" I asked.
"It's plenty," she said, gathering it in her hand. "But…perhaps…" She averted her gaze and walked to the two barrels in the corner, opening her palms. "I'd hope one day we could fill this entire barrel with them."
"We could, still," I said lightly. It would take another trip through the tear, as I hadn't yet mastered the art of summoning through the magic there. "Would you like me to see what I can do tonight?"
"Oh, no, please." When she turned to me, her smile was bright. "You need your rest for the match tomorrow. We're all looking forward to it. Are you feeling very good about it?"
I didn't have it within me to tell her the truth. "I believe so. I think it'll be a nice competition."
"The Guildmaster has invited the whole town," she said, twirling her hair. "I've never seen a sparring match before. Is it quite exciting?"
"It is very bright," I said with a nod. "Lots of attack spells flying around."
"Is it dangerous?" She leaned forward, revealing more of her breasts to me. "Sarah says that your attack spells may fly into the village. Is that possible? Should I be prepared?"
"In a duel, there will be a dome," I said, mimicking the shape above our heads. "It keeps most of the magic contained until the match is concluded."
"And…is it true that Cyrus may kill you tomorrow?" All her breathless excitement was gone, and in its place was a wide-eyed terror I couldn't lie to.
"He may. The Guildmaster has given him permission."
"Please, Master Gavon, you can't let him win," she whispered. "He will ruin this village. You must beat him and become Guildmaster."
"We're merely dueling for induction," I said. "Alexandra will be Guildmaster for a long time. She's still young."
"Magical rot comes on quick. And if you're dead, there will be no one else to protect us from him." She took my hands. "Please, Master Gavon. You must win."
I patted her hands, noting they were rough and calloused compared to Mora's soft ones. Mary's pale skin was sallower, too, and even though she carried weight on her cheeks, the purple bags under her eyes told of her overall health. And yet, she actually looked haler to me now than a few weeks ago.
"I will do my best," I replied. "If you'll give me a moment, I'll go fetch more of that bread for you. I might have a couple extra loaves for you."
Perhaps Alexandra was a lot more cunning than I'd given her credit for. If she was trying to prove a point about why I should want to survive with Mary and her bread, she'd made it. Cyrus would make a terrible Guildmaster, and the only thing keeping him from villagers like Mary was me.
Still, even if I'd make a better Guildmaster, I still had to defeat him.
I crossed the tear and transported myself to the grocery store Mora had taken me to. The rich bounty of food took my breath away for a second time, and my stomach grumbled at the woefully inadequate dinner of bread and cheese, especially as I walked by a case filled with delicious smelling roast birds. But my focus for today was bread; if I survived, I'd help myself to something truly decadent.
As before, there were many different types of bread to choose from. I kept an eye on the nonmagicals shopping nearby then sent several loafs to sit at the front of the tear. Then, deciding I might as well, I took the rest of them, leaving the baskets empty.
"I'm gonna call a manager."
I jumped, turning to find Mora standing right behind me, a sly grin on her face.
"Mora!" I cried, pulling her into my arms. "What are you doing here? I thought I was banished?"
"I don't have a lot of time," she said breathlessly. "Long story short: Ashley told Mom she couldn't magically imprison me in the house, and Mom thinks I'm in my room, so I don't have a lot of time, but—"
I didn't care what the reasoning, I was just glad to see her. I kissed her soundly, but she pushed me away gently, glancing around at the nonmagicals who'd become curious at my outburst.
"How did your match go?" she asked, her voice low.
"It's tomorrow," I said, running my hand through her hair. Was she always this pretty, or had I just forgotten how blue her eyes were?
"And did you read the book? Figure out how you're going to beat him yet?"
"I read the book, but as far as beating him…" I sighed. "I'll do my best, but I feel even if I make him angry, he'll still beat me."
"That's why you work him. Get him riled up then make him make a mistake." She gripped my face. "Just…promise me you won't give up. Promise me you'll try to come back to me."
I cupped her cheek, grateful for her confidence in me. "I will try with all my heart."
"I mean, you're a Warrior, right?"
I nodded.
"And I bet Warriors don't whine. They just do. So go do. Just win, Gav." She jumped. "Crap, gotta go. And hey…I do love you, too. I'll hopefully see you tomorrow, okay?"
She pressed a wet kiss against my lips before dashing around a corner to presumably transport back to her house.
I stared at the space she'd left, wondering if I'd dreamt the whole thing. But I had the taste of her on my lips still, and her scent lingered on my shirt. It wasn't much, but it was yet another reminder that I had something very important to live for.
Warriors don't whine, they just do. I'd have to use that from now on.
Eighteen
My goal was clear: win. Win for Mora, so I might be able to kiss her more often without Alexandra's tug. Win for the world I would get to explore in greater detail. Win to bring more fresh food to the village and to save them from a Guildmaster who cared more for himself than for them.
Win to wipe that smirk off Cyrus's face.
The next morning I spent sitting on the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore. I'd hoped that Mora might appear, but it seemed I wasn't very lucky. As the hour drew closer, I rose and dusted my pants off, taking one final, long gaze at the world I'd only just begun to explore.
I transported myself to the tear, dove through, then continued on to the sparring ring. Where I'd expected silence, perhaps a howling wind, there were raucous voices. I craned my neck, taking in the sight—there was an audience for our match today. Our entire village had come to watch the show, it seemed, which unnerved me, but also gave me a little boost. I knew they, like Mora, were rooting for me to best Cyrus. They wanted me to be Guildmaster, not him.
Perhaps I had allowed Cyrus to convince me I wasn't worthy of my specialty. Perhaps I'd still die in the ring, but I wasn't going to go out without a fight.
Alexandra appeared in the center, her face betraying nothing. When she opened her mouth, it echoed across the open space, magically amplified.
"Welcome to today's induction match. A very special day, indeed. Cyrus Fairfield and Gavon McKinnon. Our two Warriors, the first born in twenty years, and the only born since. They will prove their mettle through the traditional Warrior duel. One will be a victor. Both, should they survive, will be inducted."
I tried not to look annoyed at that comment.
"The match will end when one is unable to continue or is dead."
I strode up to Cyrus and jutted out my hand.
"See you on the other side, brother," Cyrus said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"We'll see," I replied evenly. Our hands joined, and a burst of magic rose upward, doming around us. A mix of dark gray and purple, it would contain our spells while still giving our audience a view of our activities. The last time I'd been in a match, during my introduction match, my side had been a yellowish green, signaling that my master's magic still held sway over me. Today, it seemed, I would be all on my own.
We turned and walked to our respective sides. I licked my lips, remembering how it had felt to kiss Mora. She was counting on me to come back to her. And I was counting on kissing her a few thousand time
s more.
"Begin!"
Cyrus didn't strike right away, perhaps waiting for me to make the first move. Maybe waiting to give me time to collect my wits.
"I believe she said begin, Gav," he called, his voice echoing across our little dome.
"I usually give you the first blow," I replied, resting my hands behind my back. One of the sections in Mora's book had been on body language, and I'd crafted a few ways to draw him into a false sense of security.
Cyrus took the bait, sending a barrage my way. I easily avoided all of them, although I allowed one to hit a magical barrier, just to make him think he was winning.
"I've never killed a man before," Cyrus called when the barrage was over. "I wonder what it's like?"
"You'll have to tell me after you do it." Another powerful fireball, but this time I couldn't avoid it completely, and had to use a bit of magic to bat it away. My magic thrummed in my veins, begging me to let it loose, but I resisted. As long as I kept those exertions to a minimum, my strategy would work. Mora's strategy—
An attack spell landed hard against my left cheek, sending me staggering backward. Duly noted; don't think about Mora until the match was over.
Another came at me, this time from the right. Then the left again. I barely had time to recover before the next one arrived. Cyrus truly intended to kill me; I could feel his hatred in every magical blow. In the moments between the pain, I accepted that this was a necessary evil. For even though he thought himself to be winning, he was still playing into my hand.
Finally, the barrage ended, and I fell to my hands and knees, spitting blood onto the ground. The raucous crowd had grown quiet, a deafening silence.
"Well? Why aren't you cheering?" Cyrus screamed to the crowd. "I'm about to kill a man? Isn't that what you came here for?"
"Actually," I said, using magic to help me to stand. "They came here to watch me beat you. They don't like you very much, Cyrus."
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