There were no other rules, they had promised her. She could do nothing that would get her a fail mark. The spell didn’t matter, really, except if she made the fire big enough, she’d get the all-important seconds she needed.
She stepped close to the apprentices, giving them all her biggest smile. They sneered, one and all, so she stared long enough for them to drop their eyes, and fidget. This was going to be so much fun. If it worked. If it didn’t, she was going to regret it more than anything else, like, ever.
She waited the requisite ten minutes, checking through the spell, ensuring she knew it as well as she could. It was short, and simple, and she barely looked at the book as she recited, loud and clear and bold.
Flames sprung up from the floor. They flickered as a thought ran through her mind. What if they countered with water? What if they just dumped loads of water on it? She wouldn’t have time to do anything.
Sweat broke across her brow, and she blinked as it trickled into the corners of her eyes. This was stupid, this was just the sort of thing she thought of, and did, and realised afterward how utterly stupid it was.
Then she felt it. The wind, building slowly as it blew through the hall. Yes! It swept her hair from her face, and dried the sweat and she side stepped, looking past the fire. Two of the apprentices were stood slightly back, staring at the other, who stood, hands held before him, (bloody amateur), face creased in concentration.
She watched him, the wind whipping at her clothes, and the fire. The flames were guttering, struggling to stay alight and she shook her head, making herself move. This was it, now or never.
She stepped forward, unseen for the moment. Everyone’s eyes were on the fire. She focused on it for a moment, head throbbing worse, so bad her eyes twitched, and she blinked, hard. She had to hold it, just for a few more seconds. She pushed, sighing in relief as the flames jumped up again, stronger and surer.
The wind reacted, so strong she staggered, planting her foot to stay upright. The row opposite her were watching through slitted eyes, hands over their faces to block out some of the wind. Time was up.
She took another three steps, coming to stand directly before the apprentice. He finally saw her, his look of fierce concentration slipping, for just a moment, before he gave her the smallest of smiles. Smug. That made it so much easier.
She hated violence. Always had. Oh well. She took a step back, wound up, and kicked him between the legs, as hard as she knew how. Truth was, she struggled to kick a ball that wasn’t moving, but his legs was braced apart, and for one reason or another, she was bang on target.
Like a switch had been flicked, the wind vanished, and the flames roared up, lapping against the ceiling. There was a group gasp of astonishment, but all Scarlet could look at was the face of the man on the floor in front of her, twisted in pain and surprise. His hands was clutching his bits, probably checking they were all still there.
The cymbals clashed for the third and final time, and she let the flames die. The voice was no different. ‘Joanna Slater, you have been victorious in the third conflict.’ A pause followed this statement, though anything else he might have said was lost as she shouted ‘YES!’ and ran over to Martin.
He was leaning back against the wall, the broadest smile on his face she’d ever seen. She slouched onto one leg, putting her hand on her hip. ‘Not bad, huh?’
He chuckled, wincing. ‘Not bad at all, apprentice. We need to work a little on your finesse, I think, but all in all, a very satisfactory outcome.’
‘A satisfactory outcome? That was amazing. That was godlike, bow before me oh puny mortal.’
She turned back to the room. The audience were talking again, too loud for anyone to be heard over the din, so she walked back across the circle, carefully sidestepping the still-prone apprentice.
The masters were staring at her. One was smiling, and trying not to. The other two were storm-faced, like a teacher just before they exploded. She gave them a beaming smile, feeling, for the first time since she’d left home, in control of things. ‘So, any chance of a lift home, please?’
Final Installment Monday 30th December
