Chương 14: 14 Loop 0, Part 14

Like I said, glass wants to be opaque. That's one of the first things you learn in Enchantment Theory, assuming you're awake, which is a discriminatory standard. Transparency is not a natural state. Transparency is something glass does under pressure. Darkness is what glass does when nobody is bothering it. Or something like that. I don't know. I wasn't paying attention to the unimportant bits. The amber lenses went black, and Holt screamed. His shield collapsed. His hands went to his face.

He stumbled backward, clawing at the rubber strap with one hand and firing blindly with the other. A [Force Bolt] slammed into the containment ward six feet to my right. Another cracked the marble in front of him and sent a white chip skittering across the platform. There was that property damage, and it wasn't me this time.

"I can't see! I can't see!" Always nice when a spell performs according to its description. He spun in place, his wand sweeping wildly, his free hand yanking at the strap. The rubber had tightened against his sweat and panic. The adjustment buckle sat at the back of his head, which was rude of it, but not my fault. Equipment design mattered, and people ignored this and then acted surprised when their own clothing betrayed them. He looked like a lunatic, it wasn't my fault.

"Someone help me! Get it off! Get it off!" He fired again. This one hit the floor near his own foot. The crowd went quiet. That was new. I was used to people laughing at my antics or acting shocked. Through [Wideview], I saw Finn leaning forward, his mouth slightly open. Sara stood near the practice strip with her arms crossed. Neither of them was finding this entertaining. That should have mattered. Probably did. I didn't care. Instead, I counted to seven. Holt had stopped spinning by then.

He dragged in one shaking breath and shoved the goggles up with both hands when he finally realized how stupid he was being. The first thing he saw was me. And I hadn't moved. His jaw tightened. The fear disappeared behind his face and became anger. Then he rebuilt his shield construct and started forward. His caution was gone. Patience had gotten him blinded in front of two thousand people and made him look like an idiot. So, clearly, moving felt better. People loved doing things that felt better.

That was why they made so many terrible decisions. Myself included. He closed to fifteen feet and raised his wand, but I beat him to it. I pointed at the marble between us and chanted, " [Slick]." [Slick - Enchantment] Cost: 10 mana. Removes friction from a target surface. Area scales with mana investment. Duration: until dispelled. Stone wants to be smooth. Marble especially. This platform had been polished for centuries. Well, maybe decades. I don't know.

It had been here a long time, and every grain had already been bullied into alignment. I just asked it to commit to the bit. And it all behaved. The marble under Holt's boots went frictionless. His right foot slid first. He shifted to catch himself, and his left foot went the other way, because balance is a group project, and his feet were terrible at teamwork. His wide stance became wider, and then much wider, and then educational. His arms windmilled. His shield flickered out.

He swung his wand arm loose as his knees buckled, and the bolt he had been about to cast went in whatever direction his arm happened to be pointed. At me, of course. I still hadn't moved. Today was a banner day for my laziness. Mostly, I hadn't moved because moving required decisions, and I'd already made several today. So, I mean, was it really worth it? Clearly, the bolt disagreed with me.

It quite clearly felt I should have moved, because when it hit me, it knocked me sideways into my own [Slick], and I swear I felt a rib crack. There are dignified ways to win a duel, and this wasn't one of them. The crowd exploded, because of course they did. Holt had landed a hit after making a fool of both of us. It didn't matter that he'd done it while falling down like a bookshelf with anxiety. He had struck the headmaster's nephew. The clear underdog in the fight had drawn blood, or at least embarrassment.

I lay there for a second, my ribs aching, my elbow aching. My dignity aching. Through [Wideview], I saw Finn. My own supposed best friend was laughing at me. I got up. Holt was still on the marble. He'd gone down completely when his own bolt threw off what remained of his balance, and now he was on his hands and knees, trying to crawl toward the dry part of the arena. His gloved palms pressed flat against stone that had no interest in helping him.

He got one knee under himself, lost it, got it back, and then lost it again. He was breathing hard, the effort of just getting off the ground proving to be a little too much for the guy. His face was still red from the goggles, and his hair stuck to his forehead. But he wasn't yielding. That was admirable and terrible in equal measure. I pointed my wand at his right boot.

"[Unbuckle]." [Unbuckle - Enchantment] Cost: 8 mana. Releases fastening hardware on a targeted object. Instant. The brass tongue sprang free. Leather sagged around his ankle, and his foot shifted inside the boot.

"[Unbuckle]," I cast again. His left opened too. There went his anti-[Trip] innovation. Footwear science wept. Holt glanced down and then back at me. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Enchantment."

"This is ridiculous." He tried to stand, and his right boot slipped off and dumped him back down to his knees. He screamed in frustration. He tried to rebuckle his sandals, shoes, whatever they were, but he couldn't. He slipped again and hit his face. I tried hard not to laugh. Oh, man. I let him try a third time, because I'm a patient educator, and this was a nice break from this ridiculous thing. But finally, Holt abandoned his buckle and crawled toward me.

He made it about a foot before his knee slid out again, and he went flat on his stomach. Some people never learn. Dude should have just fought me from there. I mean, like, force spells work from a decent distance. Come on. I pointed at his robe.

"[Shrink]." [Shrink - Enchantment] Cost: 16 mana. Contracts fabric and leather on a targeted object. Duration: until dispelled. Cloth wants to be smaller. Thread is held in place by tension and habit. Every fabric fiber remembers being shorter. It was nice when things listened to me. Finn never listened. But this robe? Oh, boy, did it listen. The fabric tightened across his chest and shoulders. His sleeves squeezed his arms. His collar cinched against his throat.

His casting arm lost range as the robe pulled him inward, like it was trying to turn him into luggage. His gloves went next. The leather squeezed his fingers into fists. His knuckles whitened. He couldn't open his hands enough to cast, couldn't grip properly, couldn't even do anything except glare at me with red eyes. That said, he finally showed some intelligence, and he grabbed one glove with his teeth and pulled it off quickly. He ripped off the other one and spat leather onto the marble.

His fingers flexed, blotched red and white, trying to remember how circulation worked. And then the moment I had been waiting for finally happened. He planted his bare palm on the marble and tried to push himself up." [Stick]." [Stick - enchantment] Cost: 16 mana. Bonds a target surface to another on contact. Duration: until dispelled. His hand touched the marble and it stuck. Simple as that. Holt pulled. His forearm tightened, his shoulder strained, his whole body shook. But his palm didn't move.

Fingers and skin remained bonded to the white stone as if the platform had decided he was part of it. He stared at his hand and pulled again.

"What? Fuck. Dude, what? I can't move my hand. I can't move my hand." Now he was on one knee with one hand stuck to the floor, boots falling off, robe squeezing him in half. And I laughed. It was funny. I mean, come on. He solved every problem correctly, but it wasn't enough. Every reasonable decision made the next trap worse. That was the beautiful thing about enchantment. There was an art to it.

You didn't beat people by overpowering them with beautiful spells or powerful shields or light shows, though you sometimes did that. You let the world explain that they had already lost. And the best part was Holt was a stationary target now. And stationary targets were what [Magiball] was for. I laughed at how easy it all was, but before I could finish the fight, somebody wanted to talk. Holt glared daggers at me.

"Is this all a joke to you?" He was looking up at me from the marble, one hand bonded to the floor, knees splayed, boots half off. His voice was raw. I could tell he was in pain.

"Mm, not a joke," I said.

"More of a demonstration, I guess. Jokes have punchlines. This has a lesson plan."

"A lesson plan," he spat, before pulling at his stuck hand again. The tendons in his forearm stood out.

"You blinded me, took my boots apart, shrunk my clothes, and now I'm glued to the floor. What's the lesson?" He bared his teeth.

"Um, don't wear goggles to an enchantment fight." I shrugged.

"That one's free." The Crucible was quiet enough that I could hear him breathing. Two thousand people and not a sound. It felt like the eyes of the world were on us. You could even hear the containment wards hum.

"You don't even care, do you?" Holt said. His jaw was tight, but his voice was steady. He'd found something to hold onto. Something he thought would give him an edge. I decided to humor him.

"This tournament, this match, me, none of it matters to you. You're just out here fucking around because you can."

"I wouldn't say fucking around. I'd say efficiently resolving a scheduling conflict. I have a nap to get back to, after all." I laughed. No one else did.

"I needed this win, Yarrow." The anger bled through his steadiness.

"I needed this round. Do you know what the top eight gets you? It gets you apprenticeship consideration. Do you know what that means for someone who isn't the headmaster's nephew? Do you even know what an apprenticeship application looks like?" I frowned. I did not like where this was going.

"I assume there's paperwork? I try not to think about paperwork. It upsets me." That one didn't land. I heard it leave my mouth and hit the ground halfway between us. Through [Wideview], I could see Finn frowning in the stands. He wasn't laughing anymore.

"You're pathetic," Holt spat. He was past anger now. His voice had dropped into something flat and certain, the way people sounded when they stopped trying to win an argument and started trying to hurt.

"You float in here on your little shoes and you play your little games and you treat this whole thing like it's beneath you. And nobody says a word. Nobody ever says a damn word." His free hand was clenched at his side. His stuck hand had stopped pulling.

"If anybody else at this school had pulled half the shit you did, they'd be out within a week. The ridiculous spells, the sleeping through lectures. Any other student, gone. But not you. Never you." He was shaking, and it wasn't from the cold of the marble.

"Must be nice, Yarrow. Must be real nice having your uncle kill your problems before they even start." He raised his free hand and pointed at me. The Crucible disappeared. The body behind my eyes was standing again, one hand raised, still pointing at me, as if I were the one who had murdered him. The noise of the crowd was gone. The gold shimmer of the containment wards was gone. There was just the body, and the hand, and the marble under my feet, too white and too clean, just like the library.

And there was a man on his knees in front of me who wouldn't stop pointing at me. Wouldn't stop pointing at me. Something closed behind my eyes. A door, maybe. Or a lid. I cast my spell.

"[Marble]." [Marble - Manifestation] Cost: 4 mana. Conjures a small glass sphere at the caster's hand. Duration: one hour, or until dispelled. A glass sphere appeared in my left hand.

"[Magiball]." [Magiball - Enchantment] Cost: 8 mana. Wraps a held object in a shell of compressed force. Duration: until dispelled. Blue force wrapped around the glass until it hummed. I didn't need to line up my throw. I tried hard not to think about the crowd, or the judge, or Finn or Sara, or the fact that a man was on his knees in front of me with nowhere to go. I threw the [Magiball] at his chest. It hit his sternum, and there was a sickening pop as his arm wrenched against the [Stick] bond.

His elbow dislocated, and he screamed. I didn't care.

"[Recall - enchantment]." Cost: 8 mana Recalls an object to the casters hand. The sphere came back to my hand. And then came the judgement. Finn was on his feet, screaming at me. Then someone in the audience booed. They actually booed. The judge's wand twitched. i didn't care. I sent the second [Magiball] into his head. The impact broke the [Stick] bond, and he slid across the marble. His body turned with the force, over and over, off the stage. A gasp went out of the arena, and I turned and left the platform.

[Stride] had been canceled before the match, and I hadn't bothered recasting it, so now I was kicking myself for refreshing it so close to the match. I walked on my own legs, which ached. Which was fine. Because it kept my mind off other things. Like how awful I felt. I thought the victory would go differently, or at least help me feel differently but I kinda just felt like an ass Through [Wideview] I could see the judge standing over the spot where Holt had been, her wand half-raised, her mouth half-open.

Caught between calling the match and calling for medical staff. She chose medical. Arena staff were already moving toward the edge of the platform where Holt had gone over. Somehow, he was conscious. I could see him through [Wideview], sitting on the ground below the stage, cradling his arm against his chest. His elbow bent wrong. I headed for the elevated exit platform at the top of the eastern stairwell. The one that connected the upper stands to the main corridor out of the Crucible.

The fastest route to my room, the fastest route to a door I could close, the fastest route to hide. I almost made it, too.