Magic's Pawn

:Eventually :

Savil had forgotten all about the planned 'fight' by the time a good, soaking rain actually put in an appearance, nearly a fortnight later. She had reserved the Work Room for Mardic and Donni that afternoon; for all that they were lifebonded they were having a tremendous difficulty in working together, magically speaking. Donni had a tendency to rush into something at full tilt; Mardic was entirely the opposite, holding reserves back until the very last moment and dithering about full commitment. That meant that when they worked together their auras pulsed and had some serious weak spots, and their shields never quite meshed. Savil was putting them through an exercise designed to force them to synchronize their energy-levels and work as a unit rather than as an uneven team, when someone pounded urgently on the door.

The union of energy fields disintegrated at the first knock; dissipating with a 'pop' into a shower of visible sparks and separating into the auras - green for Donni, yellow for Mardic - surrounding each of her crestfallen students. Savil swore an oath sufficiently heated to blister paint. She looked the couple over with OtherSight and swore another nearly as strong.

Dammit, their concentration's gone completely. Look at those auras pulse! Oh, hellfires! If this isn’t important, I'll kill whoever's out there!

She banished the violet shield she had placed about the pair with an abrupt gesture, and stalked to the door, yanking it open and glaring at the agitated Guard standing just outside.

'Yes?' she said, with an edge to her voice that was sharp enough to shave with.

'Herald Savil, your nephew and your protege Tylendel - they're fighting - ' the man gulped, stepping back involuntarily at the sight of her angry face. 'Tylendel put up a barrier and we can't get at them to break it up; he's got your nephew down and we're afraid he may do him true harm - '

' 'Damn!'' the word exploded from her, as for one moment she thought that something had really happened between the pair and the fight was serious,

Then she recalled the plan, and almost ruined it for them all by laughing in the man's face.

She schooled her expression to the one she would have been wearing if this had been a genuine fight; mouth tight and eyes narrowed in feigned anger. 'Show me,' she barked. 'I'll deal with this nonsense right now.'

The Guard scurried ahead of her down the hallway; she followed at a near-trot, wincing a little at the aches the rain had called up in the depths of her joints.

I'II bet 'Lendel put up the mage-barrier to keep people from seeing that he and Van aren't really hitting each other, she decided, hastening her pace a bit as the Guard pulled ahead. And to keep folks from breaking up the fight too soon. I'd better make a major scene over this or he'll never forgive me.

There was no doubt of where the fight was taking place - Herald-proteges, young courtiers, Bard-trainees and other assorted young people were clustered tightly around the door to the gardens on the southeast side of the Palace, all of them babbling like a pack of fools. The Guard pushed his way through them with no regard for rank or ceremony whatsoever; Savil followed behind him and peered out the door into the pouring rain.

The combatants were about fifty paces beyond the door, in a spot beside the paved path where all the grass had been worn away. There was, indeed, a mage-barrier over the area where they were struggling, a place that looked more like a pig-wallow at this point. The barrier and the rain were blurring the combatants badly enough that it was hard to see exactly what was going on. Vanyel was down, on his back; at least Savil assumed it was Vanyel, since the current loser was slightly smaller and his hair was mostly dark under the mud. Tylendel was sitting on his chest, and if Savil hadn't known better, she'd have sworn he was strangling the younger boy.

'You take that back, you little bastard!' Tylendel roared. 'You take that back, unless you want another pound of mud shoved down your throat!'

Savil steeled herself and barked - in her best stop-a-mob-in-full-cry voice - a single word.

'ENOUGH!'

Instantly the fighters froze.

Savil strode out into the deluge, her dignity somewhat diminished when her feet squelched instead of coming down firmly, and the rain immediately plastered her hair to her skull, sending tendrils of it straggling into her eyes and mouth.

Nevertheless, she reckoned she looked imposing enough, since all the babbling behind her ceased as she reached the edge of Tylendel's mage-barrier and stopped.

'Take it down, trainee,' she said, her tone so cold it could have turned the rain into snow.

Tylendel scrambled to his feet and dismissed the barrier. Now that he could be seen clearly, he truly looked as if he'd been through the wars. His hair was full of mud and straggling around his face in dirty coils. One eye was turning black and starting to swell; his lower lip was split and bleeding. His tunic was torn and muddy and so were his breeches; one of his boots had come unlaced and sagged around his ankle. He wore a very un-Tylendel-like expression; sullen and full of barely-smothered anger.

Vanyel remained prone for several moments longer with his chest heaving as he gulped for air; long enough that Savil began to think he might really be hurt. She breathed a little easier when he levered himself up out of the mud and got slowly to his feet.

He was in worse case than Tylendel; his tunic had been all but stripped from his body, there wasn't much left of it, and what there was hung in strips from his belt and his wrists. He had several angry-looking scratches on his arms and chest, and a split lip to match Tylenders; but more seriously, he was favoring his right foot, wincing in real pain when he had to put any weight on it.

He didn't move, once he'd gotten to his feet; just stood with his hands clasped before him, wearing an expression so like Tylendel's that Savil began to be alarmed.

:'Lendel?: she Mindspoke, layering the name with her anxiety and distress.

Tylendel's expression didn't change by so much as a twitch of an eyelid, but the Mindvoice was as cheerful