Mirai
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Narrowing her grey eyes, Salina almost nodded in approval as fissures suddenly splintered through the great ice shield. At least I didn’t try a frontal assault. Instinctively, the former guard captain picked up her pace. Sprinting forward, her supple leather boots whispered over the arena’s dusty surface, her cream cloak floating behind her. In moments the glacial construct was laced with fractures, lines criss-crossing and intersecting with one another in a beautiful array, before it exploded into a cloud of floating fragments. Salina’s own spider-silk mesh-web fell limply to the floor, a testament to the razor edged sharpness of the hovering icicles. Myriad jagged perforations bisected the net as it lay pathetically on the ruby red sands. Better move fast, or I’ll be full of holes next… Spotting a potential opportunity for using her enemy’s sorcery against him, the quick-witted wind witch rapidly removed her steel whistle from her lips. An instant later, she expelled her saved breath, sorcerous powers instantly catalysing the paltry puff into a surging gale aimed at the mage’s ominous cloud of floating frozen fragments. But swift as Salina sent forth the blusterous air blast, the wintry wizard was faster, bringing up his left arm up to point at her. A split-second later frozen fragments were flying forward at the mage's command, myriad bolts spitting toward her. Immediately recognising that her sorcerous blast lacked sufficient space to check the momentum magically imbued in the shards, the auburn haired woman dived to the arena floor, battle-honed reflexes sending her skidding along the dusty surface. Scarlet sand flew up in response to Salina's fall, friction ripping and burning at her silk tunic and leggings. As she slid forward, the former Captain grabbed hold of her cloak, twisting it round to partially envelop herself in the spider silk. Though a few of the shards would be slowed by her earlier wind blast, Salina was wholly aware of the deadly potential of the mage’s sorcery. More by luck than judgement, the former coven mistress’ beeswax earplugs had remained in place through her sudden fall, screening her from sound. Temporarily deaf to the world, sight shielded by her cloak, Salina was largely unaware of the frozen shards shattering against the arena’s circular side, icy crystals exploding into tiny slivers as they ruptured against the wall’s impermeable surface. However, the innovative fighter was all too aware of the darts splattering like icy rain against the edge of her cloak, and of one particularly vicious splinter searing against her right ankle as it savagely sliced along her flesh. Momentarily prostrate upon the floor, she hissed in pain, sucking in oxygen. Hell’s teeth, those darts are nasty. Treacherously, a tear of pain trickled from the edge of her right eye. Still alive girl: focus on that. Now move, or he’ll give you something to really get upset about. With supple swiftness, Salina sprung back to her feet, inwardly wincing at the pain this prompted from injured foot. Her grey eyes flashed left and right, having momentarily lost sight of her foe. Spotting him trying to circle around her, she couldn't help but smile in approval. Frosty might be young, but he's a boy after my own heart. Then the auburn haired fighter placed her reinforced steel whistle to her fulsome lips once more. Instantaneously, metal shrieked in protest at the torment visited upon its fibres, as the champion of wind sent another of her sorcerous gust screaming through the instrument’s frame, grating and grinding on the ears. The cacophony rapidly rose in shrillness and fluctuating intensity, screeching and howling with all the pleasant pitch of fingers scraping away at a thousand blackboards, creating an audio assault for the ice mage's soul and senses. ----- Meanwhile, hundreds of miles from Bren, the Clerks of Tairon were getting restless. A shining silver ball hung in the corner of their dusty office, projecting images of the bloody deathmatch. Voluminous papers lay untouched; quills lounged beside their pots of ink, as the guardians of the kingdom’s standing orders watched the final scenes of this year’s elemental championships. Normally a quiet corner of the palace, the bureau was unusually filled with the buzz of noise and chatter. The younger officials quietly cheered and sighed at the brutal conflict, caught up in the excitement of the contest. Some watched in slack jawed amazement at the fall of the giant demon, others talked excitedly about how the light wielder had now been involved in defeating two of the fallen champions. Two of the bureaucrats quietly shook hands on a small wager, each confident that their chosen fighter- respectively the ice mage and earth warrior- would be crowned triumphant. But the more senior Clerks looked nervously to each other, their thoughts focussed on the Betrayer: and her continuing survival. Even Gunthar, normally so unflappable, had a frown on his face, his fingers clasped together, arching up as if in prayer. The First Clerk had thought it imprudent to enter the treacherous woman in the tournament in the first place, considered the Elemental Championship Committee’s Lords unwise to engage in such foolery. Unfortunately, this was a case where the limitations of a Clerk’s role- to advise, and leave the Lords to formally make decisions- were apparent. Even so, with her sorcerous powers all but stripped from her, the risk of the Betrayer actually succeeding in the tournament had seemed slight. But still the accursed woman refused to do them all a favour and just die. Worse, the courage she showed, the relentless determination she exhibited, even her annoying jokes and tricks… all of this would be winning her allies amongst the populace. Already he could imagine the stupid peasants cheering her on as ‘one of them,’ how they would quickly forget the destruction she had near-wreaked on the city of Nagraith. And that in turn could make things would become more difficult for the Clerks. Crop failures could not so easily be blamed on the traitorous captain. Tax rises could not so quickly be explained as necessary due to the devastation resulting from her uprising. The people would not so readily be united with common bonds of hatred for the Betrayer. Gunthar’s frown deepened, his thumb nails slowly circling against one another. If Marcos ‘the frozen archive’ Vardiante didn’t hurry up and eliminate the two-faced snake of witch… a new scapegoat might be required. For the good of Tairon, of course.
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