Chapter 4: Called Away from the Entrance Exams
Mylerna of Renalja didn’t waste any time dispatching Ligas. With a wave of her hand, the earth underneath the tall boy who was her opponent liquified into quicksand, swallowing him in an instant. A mere moment after the duel had started, it was as if Ligas had never been standing there at all.
The Entrance Exam Proctor’s voice boomed through his amplification spell. “May I remind the candidates that lethality and permanent harm are forbidden in today’s duels?”
In response, Mylerna held up one hand with a flourish. She pulled in her fingers on that hand, one by one, counting down from five. When all her fingers were closed and the hand was a fist because she had reached zero, she made a magical power gesture with her closed fist and the earth where Ligas had been standing suddenly released him, prone and gasping for air. Ligas was covered in dust and looked horrified by what he had just gone through. As soon as he could speak, he screamed “I yield!”
Mylerna’s face looked cold and passionless, as if Ligas were nothing more than an insect studied in a magnifying glass. The Proctor declared her the winner. “Mylerna will advance through the duels. Ligas will consult with a guidance counselor in Building A.”
Being defeated in the Entrance Exam Duels didn’t necessarily mean rejection as a Hopeful Candidate. The judges were to evaluate a candidate’s overall performance, but it didn’t look good for Ligas, since he hadn’t had a chance to demonstrate that he could do anything, worthy of entrance to the college or not. George watched Ligas make his way through the crowd of his peers toward Building A, still shaking and trembling from the trauma of being buried alive and not being able to breathe for a good fraction of a minute. He had probably thought he he was going to die, rules against it notwithstanding.
According to the rules of the Entrance Exam, Mylerna, as the winner of a duel, had the option of continuing to duel as long as she felt up to it, or to sit back down and wait to be called on again. Mylerna opted to continue to duel. George watched as she continued to take out five more candidates, one after another. Having seen how quickly she had created Sucking Quicksand underneath Ligas, her new opponents attacked her as quickly as they could and kept their feet moving, never staying in one spot long. Her first opponent after Ligas dodged to the side as soon as the Proctor had started the duel and flung a bolt of lightning at the Renaljan girl. A column of earth and stone rose up instantly in the lightning bolt’s path, blocking and grounding out what would have been a shocking jolt.
George knew that the Renaljans were famous earth elementalists. Apparently, Mylerna was skilled in her people’s specialty. It was as if the element of earth was her friend and her partner in battle. After defeating her fifth opponent after Ligas, for a total of six, she opted to sit down until called again. She didn’t seem the least bit winded or fatigued after six duels in a row. If anything, she seemed bored.
“George Fothergill? Come with me please.” George looked up to see an instructor picking his way through the crowd of students seated on the quad, coming in his direction, beckoning.
George complied, picking his way back through the crowd toward the instructor. He seemed like one of the younger instructors. Although powerful mages could use magic to keep their bodies unnaturally young as they aged, the mages of the Mage College of Praxis tended to not do that. In the occasional conversation in which people ever wondered why, it was generally concluded that the instructors, teachers, and professors wanted to maintain the appearance of their age as a constant reminder of how much more time they had been studying, practicing, and mastering magic. So, George was pretty sure this guy not only looked like one of the younger instructors, but was one.
Once George had emerged from the bulk of the students watching the Entrance Exam duels, the young instructor repeated, “Come with me, please,” offering no more information or explanation.
George obediently followed the man into Building C, taking his cue from the man’s silence to not ask any questions nor to try to make any conversation. Building C was a three-story building with administrative offices on the first floor and a set of large lab rooms on floors two and three. The two of them climbed the nearest staircase to reach one of the lab rooms on the second floor. The teacher leading George opened the door to the lab room and gestured for George to go inside.
Stepping inside, George was shocked to see his father, George Fothergill, Sr. (George was a junior) sitting at a teacher desk at the end of the lab room. Seated around the desk were three of the school’s professors who seemed to be doing their best to keep up faces for playing card games involving wagering. The instructor who had brought George closed the door and left.
“Hello, George,” said his father. His father smiled at him, cordially, formally, with neither warmth nor malice. George recognized that his father was in business mode, his manner of presenting himself at formal events and official meetings. “How has your day been so far?”
“Educational, sir.” George wasn’t sure how to respond, but he thought that would be a good answer.
“Excellent, George.” His father looked to the teachers on either side of him before meeting George’s eyes again. “The masters here at the College of Praxis believe that I should be the one to administer your Entrance Exam myself.”
George was confused. “Do you mean I’m supposed to duel you, Father?”
His father’s smile softened and became more real for a moment, reaching his eyes. For a second George could see his father’s great love for him, but also something else…was it sadness?
“No, my son. There are other acceptable forms of Entrance Exam than dueling, though dueling is by far the most common and popular. Today, you and I are going to be using some of the equipment in this room to assess your Gifting of Magic. Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let us proceed.”