A formal battle, Akkarin thought as he listened to other magicians discuss the challenge around him. It had been a long time since one had occurred–despite the many times he and Lorlen threatened each other with one as novices. But they had been content with less formal battles, for their bickering was all in good fun. They could prove themselves with a simple duel–duels that became less and less frequent as it became clear that Akkarin had both superior power and strategy. He did not blame his friend for that. No matter how close they were, there was only so much defeat a man could take. Akkarin understood that well, perhaps better than any other magician–except Sonea.
Thoughts of his novice brought his mind back to the present in enough time to see Lady Vinara turn to him, obviously expecting a response to something she had just said. Years of appearances in court had fortunately given him the ability to subconsciously store conversations even if his brain did not fully process the words. He pulled up that conversation now, allowing his brain to fully process what had been said before making his reply. If anyone noticed the slight pause, they said nothing. They asked his opinions on the challenge, and he gave answers that were true enough to satisfy them without revealing too much of his thoughts. He had worked so hard to cultivate the enigmatic persona that it was second nature now.
He was a bit surprised to hear Lady Vinara openly acknowledge the reasons for the challenge. He knew them, of course–he had carefully monitored all her fights with Regin to make sure they did not get out of hand. No matter what some thought of him–including, often, himself–he was not a monster. Though he was finding it more and more difficult to watch the attacks, he had managed to keep himself from interfering so far. He had told Lorlen the truth as to why–he felt that Sonea was getting far better training from the bullying than anything her instructors could provide. Training that he could have used. Bouts with Lorlen had always been more about showing off than actual training, and he had found himself woefully underprepared for real conflict.
Still, he had seen the haggard expression on Sonea's face and watched how carefully she avoided empty passages. He could not help but feel guilty, knowing that the constant harassment simply added to the burden she had to bear–a burden that he had made even greater by forcing her to keep his secret. He should have been more careful, should have considered non-magical means of spying, but he had not, and now she was paying the price. And not just her but Rothen, a kind man who had done nothing but try to be the parent she never had, and Lorlen, his best friend and the one man he had always thought he could trust. He had not wanted to do many of the things he had done, but he felt he had no choice.
Because you didn't, a small voice in his head reminded him. Grimacing slightly, he pushed the guilt down, suppressing it with practiced ease. He had done what he needed to do, and he had done so with as few consequences as he could manage. That was all anyone could do.
Fortunately, Lord Yikmo's appearance removed most of the attention from Akkarin, allowing him to continue his observations of the other magicians without needing to simultaneously keep up with the conversation. As he glanced around, he was surprised to see that Lady Vinara was not talking to Lord Yikmo like the others but instead focused on watching him, a slight frown on her face. Interesting. He had always liked the older Healer, even though he had never been particularly interested in the Healing discipline. He felt that she had a good head on her shoulders and a strong moral compass, generally a good combination. But if the past few years had taught him anything, it was that you sometimes needed to go more northeast than north to reach the greater good, and there were plenty of people who did not recognize this and did the wrong things with the best of intentions.
Akkarin chuckled inwardly at that thought. And I am likely a black pot talking to a kettle.
The following week, Akkarin stood in the Arena just behind his novice, surreptitiously casting his eyes over the large crowd of magicians who had assembled to watch the fight. It looked as if everyone in the Guild had come and many had brought their families. A quick glance at his novice told him that she had not anticipated quite so many spectators. He smiled inwardly. Having more witnesses to Regin's defeat could only help her cause. And he was sure Sonea would win. As he came to know her better, he realized she was not just a novice with an unconventional background and an unusually large amount of power. No, she was also quick on her feet and clever with a strong sense of justice and. . .
Akkarin quickly stopped that train of thought. It would lead nowhere pleasant–he had essentially kidnapped the spirited girl and still saw the flash of fear in her eyes every time she looked his way. A fear which was growing harder and harder to ignore. And if he wanted to survive the next three years as her Guardian, he needed to be able to ignore it.
Balkan gave the signal for the inner shields, and Akkarin stepped forward and placed a hand on Sonea's shoulder. Despite his belief in the eventual outcome of the fight, he pulled a good deal of power from his reserves and formed it into an impenetrable shield around her. Once he finished, he checked it quickly, searching for any sign of weakness. Of course, there was none. As he stepped back, he watched her glance down, and he suppressed a grimace at the expression of doubt on her face. He should not be surprised she was wondering if he had shielded her–after all, the bout could provide the perfect excuse to get rid of a problem. But of course, he could never do that. If only she knew.
Akkarin followed Lord Garrel away from the floor of the Arena. As they exited, he realized there was one thing that he could do to help Sonea without giving too much away. Leaning closer, he whispered fiercely to the other man, "I expect that no matter what the outcome of today's battle, your nephew's harassment of my novice will stop. I would hate to see him ruin a bright future because of pettiness." He saw the older man's lips turn down into a frown, but before he could make another remark, Akkarin ascended the bleachers to sit next to Lorlen. Hopefully, that would stop the harassment. He had realized while making the shield that whatever training she was getting from the fights with the other novices was no longer worth the pain it caused her. He would talk with Yikmo about some options to better simulate real conflict.
While those thoughts flitted through his head, Akkarin exchanged inane pleasantries with Lorlen. Balkan readied the contestants below, and they fell silent when the fighting began. Akkarin had to admit, he felt no small amount of pride as he watched Sonea duel with Regin. Regin was clearly more skilled in the Arena than the average Second Year, but Sonea was displaying equal skill. More importantly, she was relying on that skill and not her superior power to defeat him. And while she had a couple losses, she had a couple wins as well. And she had done it all without draining her power too much. Akkarin watched it pulsing around her, a faint blue cloud hovering around her body like a shield. He frowned slightly when he saw that. He would have to teach her to hide it better–though he was unusually skilled at detecting a magician's aura, there were others who could do so as well. And to have any hopes of surprising those magicians while fighting, she needed to hide all of her aura.
As the fifth bout started, Akkarin watched as her face took a look of determination. He suspected she was planning to end the bout soon, perhaps with a particularly strong strike or combination of strikes. It would be interesting to see how she solved the problem of Regin physically avoiding her blows instead of doing so magically. Perhaps she could. . .
A second later, she struck, and Akkarin watched the dazzling display for a moment with the rest of the audience. He had been right about her power–she had been conserving fairly well for the first four bouts and had been quite rested going into the Arena so she had plenty of power left. And now, it looked like she was going to use it all. He was curious–and, if he was being honest with himself, excited–to see how quickly her strikes would shatter Regin's shield.
Suddenly, another thought occurred to Akkarin, and he glanced over at Garrel. Garrel was a fairly strong magician–in fact, he had been one of the twenty selected for Akkarin's challenge before becoming High Lord. But he had nowhere near Sonea's power. If Sonea let loose everything she had, it would not just pierce Regin's shield.
Akkarin sprang to his feet, running towards Garrel, heedless of the other magicians in the way. He heard someone–probably Lorlen–shouting after him, but he didn't have time to stop. Sonea's first strike hit the outer shield just as Akkarin reached Garrel. He reached out and put his hands on Garrel's shoulders, automatically lowering the barrier to begin feeding the other magician power. He felt the blasts hit the inner shield, and Garrel trembled under the effort of holding it. Akkarin increased the flow of power, glancing desperately down in the Arena. The shield shimmered for a moment but held. He let out a sigh of relief as his arm dropped. Garrel immediately reached up to massage his temples, glancing over his shoulder at the High Lord. Akkarin gave a nod of acknowledgement before stepping away as Balkan called out the winner.