**
The last week of the semester went by in a blur. Andin maintained his reputation as a tough grader, a boy with wet eyes came to ask why his otherwise perfect record was now tarnished. Andin explained, “You stopped trying after you aced your wind practical – the other disciplines may not interest you but that is no excuse for willful ignorance of them.”
The student protested briefly before Andin dismissed him; final hour complainers infuriated Andin. The upset student barged passed the incoming class as they made their way to their usual seats. It was the last meeting of his Advanced Fire class.
Eight months with such lively characters had made Andin quite fond of them. “You are a very bright group of students and it has been a pleasure seeing you develop as spell casters,” addressed Andin. He stood and handed back their final graded assignment.
“I hope to be here again after the summer; but if I’m not I’d like to think I’ve given you the tools you need to develop your skills on your own.”
The same girl who first drifted sweetly into his class eight months ago raised her hand, “Why wouldn’t you come back professor?”
If the situation had been different Andin would have liked to have been closer to her. He hesitated before answering, “It depends on what happens at the portal this summer.” The question brought to the forefront the deep uncertainty Andin felt about his future, the uncertainty he locked away, the blanketing doubt he shoved into a disused cupboard in his mind.
One by one he critiqued his student’s final projects. The prompt was simple; develop a synergistic spell using both water and fire disciplines. The rough types in the group created powerful steam spells; the academics made clever steam driven gadgets.
“To the beach, bring your weapons,” ordered Andin. The students rose and left the classroom, Andin quietly in tow behind. The thought that he may never see them again ate at his heart. As was often the case, his pupils had taught him more than he had them. They rekindled his love for fire, a discipline he had before seen only as a useful tool.
Seeing a native water user practice fire magic was enlightening. In Beldur fire keeps you warm – and therefore alive. Here it had different applications, ones that only Pelagic natives could discover. His eight students stopped at their usual outdoor lesson spot.
They formed a circle around him as he spoke, “It’s customary in Beldur for the professor to duel his upperclass students at the conclusion of the year; this is a practical application of what they have or have not learned.” The book readers looked nervous, the sailors looked excited. In Beldur the duel was compulsory.
He went on, “The duel also serves as an… airing of grievances.” Andin pointed at his beached speedboat near them, “For those not interested in testing their skills in combat; my gift to you.” Three of the students shook hands with the prince and left to tinker with their new toy.
After the first round of goodbyes Andin looked at the remaining five, “I will hold back only to spare life and limb, beyond that you will receive the level of effort from me which mirrors your own.” The group went serious, each was eager to test themselves against an immortal.
The oldest of the group, a fourth year female, volunteered herself first. At the start of the duel she conjured a large cloud of concealing steam. Andin with one sickle drawn warned her, “To deny my sight you must also deny your own; I hope you have prepared for that.” The prince stomped his foot hard into the sand sending a shockwave through the ground.
He heard the girl knocked over but she recovered quickly. Through the steam she attacked, rapier held high. The cylinder of water inside the sword gave her attacks great speed, with her opposite hand she sent spurts of flame at her instructor.
Andin parried her blows and dodged her fireballs, but not without effort. He gave up a few steps of ground before landing a kick square in her chest. She fell backwards into a shallow pit Andin had created behind her. The fire prince moved in swiftly to conclude the duel.
Sickle near her throat he complimented her effort, “Your swordsmanship is excellent, but your fire was what left you vulnerable – be faster.” His blade slithered back into his wrist as he helped her up. “It is a brave thing to go first; who’s next?”
The next three duels were enjoyable for the prince. The Pelagics had a beautiful flow to their attacks, moving constantly and probing any area for weakness. Their movements contrasted Andin’s sharper style. Four defeated students sat at the edge of the makeshift dueling grounds, only one remained.
The last had watched patiently, watching her peers move against Andin, watching Andin move against them. “Miss Peri you’re up,” beckoned the prince. It was the same cute girl Andin had an uneasy attraction to. But there was no brightness in her eyes anymore, only focus.
Seeing her ready to wage war reminded Andin of his many duels with Aura. A focused woman is a being worthy of great respect. Andin drew both sickles; he knew why she opted to go last. She wanted to win.
She held only a small shield in her off hand, keeping her dominant hand free for more effective spells. The oldest girl, now de facto referee said, “You may begin.” Andin sent a forest of sand pillars beneath her feet.
She was struck, but maintained her composure. She countered and launched a torrent of steam at the prince. Andin was blinded and instinctively shielded himself in a shell of flame. He regained his footing and burst through towards Peri.
With her shield and an orb of water she held off the prince’s fury for a few seconds. Andin was impressed by her defense but knew she couldn’t go toe-to-toe for long. She reached towards the waves and called a wall of water into Andin.
Dazed from the blow, Andin ate sand as she conjured an axe of fire. She swung the axe down into the prince. He rolled to dodge the axe and sent a platform of catapulting sand skyward. Her small frame went tumbling end over end through the air. A frantic pop of flame slowed her descent, but the landing broke her ankle.
The clear ‘snap’ was echoed with tears and the duel was over. Andin withdrew his sickles and stretchered her on a sheet of stone. “Go let the infirmary know we’re coming,” he ordered. Two students ran off ahead.
Andin looked down at his opponent to comfort her, “You have the heart of a Beldurian; it was an honor to duel you.” She smiled through the pain as the doctor set her ankle and cast it. If she was trying to impress the prince it had worked.