That’s a problem, but I still feel a sort of savage satisfaction that at least I havehisattention. At last.
The grand magus knows what I’m capable of, after all—or at least he thinks he does.
I’ve had a lot of time to think since he was a person I trusted to share my spells with.
Evram sees Nariel’s magical cloaking field and smiles. “Invisible to Low Earth’s many nonmagical, are we? Splendid. Destien, fan out.”
Destien doesn’t look as excited by that as Evram—oh, but he’s pissed. That’s... possibly in my favor.
There are eight people on the strike team, and they’re too far away for me to make out any faces. I occasionally worked with strike teams, but not as the person in charge of designing the op. And since strike team members don’t participate in the usual High Earth duels, that means they’re probably not people who know my style, even if we technically fought together.
Destien is calling out orders that would have the team coming at me from multiple sides at a time, so I won’t get a break and won’t be able to build momentum as they fall back and recoup while others keep pressing me.
You have to give Destien credit, he’s not stupid. It’s a great strategy, since even with my current pool of power I’ll definitely run out before the mages with their connections to High Earth’s power, and I’m out of practice bearing up under a sustained onslaught.Heknows I favor improvising creative spells to show off how good I am at magic—the better, I thought, to demonstrate why I should get to stay.
Unfortunately for him, that’s not the only way I’ve changed since my time in High Earth.
As soon as the first two of the strike team activate a spell of more than a little power, they fly back into the stones.
Like magnetism.
I did mention spell layers involving magic draw limits, didn’t I? Turns out you can use those in more than one way.
The strike team’s second string assumes I’ve fought back and lose no time activatingtheirspells, to the same effect.
Destien’s shout stops the third string just in time, which gives me the opportunity to cast at them directly, pushing them into the stones and in the same moment blowing out my own spell limiting power within the dome. When the pair hit the vaunted rocks, they both drop unconscious to the dirt.
Stones are lava. Anyone who touches Stonehenge will fall.
Oh, the last pair? I took them out gently while the first string was still in the air.
I had the advantage of first arrival, after all. It would have been stupid not to control the ground when I knew they were coming, and I may be mad, and I may be a show-off, but stupid I am not.
While Destien swears, I meet Evram’s eyes and smile.
Laying out a situation in advance so your enemy walks right into it—let no one ever say I didn’t pay attention in my time with him.
Something like recognition passes through his gaze, there and gone before he says coldly, “Destien. Handle her.”
“Don’t be mad, Destien, I just wanted you all to myself,” I taunt. “Our reunion was cut short last time.”
“It’ll be even shorter this time around,” he promises.
I can’t deny that would be optimal, so I don’t waste any more time, letting rip the next spell I’d planned.
The two stones closest to Destien move.
He gets a shield up before they smoosh him between them, but it’s a near thing. He’d infused his own magic into his last wand for decades, so even with a replacement it’s not as powerful, not as comfortable in his hand.
I will take any advantage I can get.
By the time he throws the stones away from him, I’m already gone, and more of Stonehenge has gotten up like the Ents going to war, lurching forward on each stone corner, converging on him.
But Destien isn’t a top duelist for nothing, and soon enough he’s leading the stones toward me.
I can’t touch them without dropping either.
But unlike last time, now I have some power to spend.
