Cecil’s head bobbed just above the top of the earthen wall he’d conjured, his brown hair close enough to almost hide his head amidst the stones of the construct. He’d retreated behind the wall once he realized his basic spells wouldn’t get past my shield or armor. His head down, Cecil couldn’t see me approach, but it wasn’t until I got up to the wall that I heard the mumbled chanting from behind it.

  My every instinct demanded I punish his mistake by slamming my hammer into the top of his exposed head, but that would no doubt cripple him and see me Graceless. It was a struggle with myself to conform to these outlander’s expectations, but I had no choice but to stay my hand.

  Cecil’s voice grew fervent as the climax of his chant neared. Hasty steps backwards put distance between us, and before he could cast his spell, I crouched down to hide my as much of my body as possible behind my shield. With a final shouted syllable, the wall exploded outwards in shards of razor stone and lances of rock. Pebbles slammed into the wood of my shield, removing paint and embedding themselves. Stones skipped across the brow of my helmet, towards where the others watched.

  Cecil stood framed in the remains of his attack, hands wide and eyes wide. When I stood, his hands dropped to his sides, fingers already weaving the next attack. I charged, weaved around hasty attempts to conjure earthen spears, and drove my hammer down onto his collarbone.

  The man dropped, his other hand clutching at the shoulder as he rolled amidst the sand, screaming. Worried I’d accidentally crippled the man, I crouched beside him, but his shoulder looked fine beneath his robes. Nothing in the shoulder’s silhouette said I’d broken the bone bad enough to cripple him. He was just in pain.

  ~***~

  Nora smiled a tightly controlled grin at me across the sparring grounds. Her fear well hidden but noticeable in the small twitching of her hands and inability to meet my eyes. Almost instinctually, I thought of ways I could exploit and expand that fear; but I had asked some more about the sparring traditions here and learned some of the etiquette. [Paladin] Witherrose’s teachings would see me graceless should I try to follow them here.

  As soon as Matt called a start, Nora launched a barrage of water bolts at me. The basic [Mage] skill did little, but forced me to stay still and absorb the blow against my shield. Nora sustained the barrage for a minute and when she stopped, her eyes were closed, face scrunched up in concentration, and a thin layer of mist centered on her coated the ground.

  By the time I was halfway to her, the mist covered the entire sparring arena; and was dense enough that it felt like wading through a shallow stream. Every step formed eddies in the mist that swirled away, then filled back in. Nora hadn’t moved from the spot she began the spar in and continued to cast.

  By the time I reached the distance I felt comfortable charging from; I stood in a knee-high bank of mist that clung to me like mud. My entire focus on Nora, I barely saw the slight disturbances in the mist. Shapes rose and fell like the fins of great lake beasts. They circled around Nora. Her eyes closed and face locked in a mask of concentration, sweat beaded down her forehead, and in wide sweeping arcs for shapes in the mist circled her. I continued to approach, each step harder than the last, when two of the shapes broke off and charged me in tandem.

  I swept my shield down at the shapes and cleared the area in front of me of all mist with the wind. During an unencumbered step into the fog-free section, a set of needle-point- teeth locked onto my shin. I kicked out on instinct to dislodge whatever was in the mist, but hit nothing. Before I could do anything else, something slinked back into the mist and the pain vanished with it.

  Before I could another take step, jaws clamped down on the back of my knee where my armor was thinner. I stumbled and struck at whatever it was, only for my hand to pass through empty fog as another shape snuck back into the mist.

  Looking up, I saw Nora bent over, supporting herself with her elbows on her knees and panting. Sweat dripped off her face in rivulets. It was obvious she was the one controlling this spell. Once I got close, the other two shapes which circled her broke off and launched themselves at me. Their forms never crested the top of the mist and from the corner of my eyes I could see the other two shapes circle back to make another pass.

  All I needed to do was reach her, but the fog grew ever thicker and harder to move through; each step carried an extra hundred pounds. Needle-sharp teeth latched onto me, ripped what they could, and dashed back into the mist to circle around. Shockwaves pulsed up my legs nearly in times with my steps and I screamed out in a mix of pain and anger.

  By the time I reached Nora, she was on all fours, gasping for ragged breaths of air. Sweat ran in rivers down her face, and veins bulged out from her skin from the effort to maintain the spell. The tired, hurt part of my brain demanded to hurt her in return. To spar and properly finish this, but I followed the rules given to me earlier. Almost kindly, I rested my hammer against the back of her skull. The threat clear to everyone.

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  Matt called the fight as soon as I placed it, and the fog disappeared seconds later. With her defeat, Nora lost whatever strength had allowed her to remain on all fours and dropped to her stomach as soon as the last of the mist vanished from the sparring grounds.

  Matt wasn’t overly worried and put Nora on her back in a comfortable position to allow her rest. We had half an hour to recuperate and regain mana before the group sparring began. I watched Nora for the first few minutes, crouched beside her, until the color in her face returned. I did not want to be accused of breaking local traditions, even accidentally.

  Once I was sure Nora hadn’t crippled herself trying to win a lesser spar, I went to Ellen and bowed to her once more, far deeper this time. The bow one gave to someone you’d wronged instead of the equals bow I’d given her earlier.

  “I wanted to give my apologies for our spar again. I was ignorant of local tradition and too arrogant to seek it out. It won’t happen again.”

  Ellen watched me from where she laid on the ground, forearms across her eyes to block out the afternoon sun. Her eyes darted a glance at Nora before she looked at me.

  “There’s no way you actually try to cripple each other each time you spar. You were bullshitting the trainers, right?” Ellen sounded bemused, but I could hear the layer of fury that simmered beneath.

  “There is a saying amongst my people.” I began. “‘When magic can heal anything but death, the only consequence of training to the brink is the discomfort of healing.’”

  I exaggerated. It was only really Iona, and a couple older [Paladins] who said that, but the point stood.

  “Discomfort?” Ellen asked. Her voice kept its anger, but I could tell she was interested.

  “The spells used by our healers insert thorned vines into wounds and deliver direct shots of healing mana to an individual’s system that way.” The spells were far more intensive and complicated than ‘inserting a vine,’ but an outsider did not need to know that.

  “And that doesn’t hurt?”

  “It does, but only for a short time. The thorns inject a numbing agent once they are in the body.” That was a safe detail to reveal. Not only was that public information, but nearly every healing spell I’d heard of used a numbing agent of some kind.

  “Let me get this straight.” Ellen deadpanned. “Where you’re from, you spar until you cripple the other person. Then get healed by magical thorned vines digging into your flesh, without numbing you first?”

  “Yes.”

  Ellen’s eyes flickered to Nora.

  “Gods above.”

  That didn’t feel like a thing that needed a response, so I let silence lapse between us. Besides, our healing wasn’t that strange. After the winner had paid their debt to Decay and the loser to Stagnation, it was only natural that Renewal follows.

  Ultimately, Ellen hadn’t accepted my apology, which was the most important part of that conversation. She’d sidestepped, but never even acknowledged the apology. I’d wronged her and needed to find out how to make up for my mistake.

  “When we spar the other group, think you can handle point?” Ellen asked and broke the awkward silence that hung between us.

  “I can.”

  “Good. I can focus on the squishy [Mages] then.”

  I looked at Ellen and wondered if she sought to become a [Mage Killer] of some variety. I turned in time to watch as her gaze again drifted to Nora, locked in quiet conversation with Matt.

  Matt patted Nora conciliatorily on the shoulder and made rounds to both of his groups. He stopped at all five of the mana users and spent a minute or two with each. The man seemed fair and unlikely to give out unearned advantages, so I paid attention to the trainees rather than the trainer. Only Nora and one other person from the other group still meditated for mana. The others listened to Matt with the rapt attention only received when you had repute of some kind.

  Once Nora and the other caster had finished their meditations, Matt walked to the center of where our groups rested and called for our attention.

  He gave a brief explanation of the rules, which were nearly identical to the individual spars, and made specific mention of the fact the spars went to surrender or his decision while staring directly at me. The remark both embarrassed me and intimidated the other group, so I took it in stride. Eventually, he sent us to our respective sides and called for the spar to begin.

  I began cautiously and crept forward just enough to give the [Mages] room to cast while remaining close enough to intercept any projectiles. Ellen took the opposite approach. As soon as the fight started, she rushed the other group. Which was composed of a [Mage], an archer with a couple of spells, and three melee combatants.

  Behind me the [Mages] shuffled and chanted. The other group lacked the large area of effect attacks that would force me to engage, so I happily allowed them to present themselves as targets for the [Mages] behind me while they dealt with Ellen.

  The archer launched a barrage of arrows from their long bow at my left, designed to drive me towards the spear fighter rushing at me.

  Mundane arrows, as a rule, have a hard time getting past well made armor, doubly so when the target has a shield. What that doesn’t account for is the human factor. Arrows for all their struggle to deal actual injury can be terrifying if you haven’t faced it before.

  The rapid impacts against your shield, and hollow reverberation of an arrow as it drives itself into the wood can be nerve-wracking if you aren’t used to being shot at with a bow. Not to mention actually getting hit on your armor.

  A well-placed shot with a long bow packs enough power to feel like you’ve been punched. There is a moment of disorientation and panic each time you’re shot as your hindbrain tries to figure out who punched you when nobody’s close enough. What’s worse is when the arrow just barely punctures your armor and drives a small sliver of armor and arrow tip into your skin. It’s almost never debilitating enough to stop you, but as a battle wears on and you move around. The small pinch of metal erodes your flesh and digs furrows into you

  A rotating spear of water launched past my hip and towards the other team’s [Mage], who focused on Ellen. As I let arrows impact my shield and bounce off my armor, Ellen tore into the other team. She engaged just long enough to land a hit before she danced back and tried to lure one of them out into single combat.

  One of the melee fighters stumbled as she caught the water spear on her shield. I turned back to look at the man charging when three darts of flame whizzed past my ear towards the archer.

  The darts tumbled through the air like a trio of poorly weighted throwing knives. Part of me thought it was just poor mana control, but as the darts ‘tumbled’ past the melee fighters in seemingly random directions only to course correct and veer back into the archer, I realized Morris Hollow was actually fantastic at mana control.

  The archer took the hit well. The spell did little more than singe his clothes before he stood back up from the sand and dusted himself off. That last of the spells by our [Mages] differed, and I felt a wave of energy seep up into me from the earth. I flexed my shield hand as tight as I could but didn’t feel any changes there. Instead, I felt more grounded, as if my feet had grown roots.

  Right before the spear user launched himself at me, I saw Ellen bait one of the melee combatants away from his group. She dissected the man. Her maul never stopped moving. Wood blurred as small, easily pulled back strikes opened up his defenses.

  A small tap knocked his wrist aside and sent his shield clattering to the sand. A follow up thrust to the thigh forced him to kneel. Ellen finished the man with a blow to the stomach that could have crippled him if she’d just attacked the sternum instead