Magic

Good with weapons bad with magic

I took to weapons like a duck to water and got some enjoyment out of teaching Faulkner a thing or too. The teacher constantly put us together hoping our rivalry would spur greater attentiveness. Which it did. I owe a lot of my skills with weapons to Faulkner. He improved greatly from our first bout to the next to the next. And I was forced to pick up my skill levels to match him. We became the best in our class. And yet our rivalry stretched further than that. It was his father my own had slew after killing my birth mother. And that put a level of savagery into Faulkner's attempts to baulk me

***

Sweat poured from Tygon’s brow and his head pounded with a fierce head ache as he willed fire into his hands. He recited the the verse again 

*

“Heat wrath and rage, sparks of a thousand aeons brought forth and under my command. Flame be mine” he felt the familiar warmth in his hands and gritted his teeth. Growling through them “Flame be mine” The smallest of flames appeared. His head feeling like it was tearing open but he smiled as the small flame flickered like a candle in the wind. His moment was short lived though though as he felt a soft breeze across his face and the flame. The flame wafted out blown out by the wind. And as his headache subsided he looked up at a smiling Faulkner. Blowing him a kiss as he effortlessly conjured a flame.

*

“You b*****d!” screamed Tygon. Everyone including the instructor shocked at his out burst their flames all going out with the break in concentration as he sprinted across the room and tackled the what he thought was Faulkner. The invisible mage hand once again catching him and slamming him into the wall. Pinning him there

*

“I am sick to death of you peasant” Faulkner said walking towards the pinned Tygon. He flicked his wrist, an unseen blade slicing Tygon’s face. “Without your petty weapons you are nothing but a punching bag. The hand released Tygon and lifted him with a severe upper cut. The instructor broke from his shock

*

“Mr Berrington, I must insist you stop this at once.” Screamed Jiene Piere. Going completely rigid as Faulkner flicked his wrist at him. Binding him with a spell. Holding Tygon once again with his mage hand

*

“So what are you going to peasant?” He sneered, punching Tygon square in the face. Once, twice, three times and winding for a forth  “No weapons, no mummy, just a worthless floor rug who hadn’t the decency to die with his mother” Tygon screamed, a rage filled roar mixed with sadness and loss from a time he barely remembered. Faulkner only laughed. Stepping back and releasing Tygon. Who slumped to the floor as if dead. Faulkner gleefully kicked the prone boy over and over again.

*

/What the f**k are you doing!/ Screamed a voice in Tygon’s head.

/I’ve lost. This fight and my mother/ Tygon replied in a downtrodden voice 

/You haven’t lost, you’ve just given up/ Yelled the voice

/He’s right, I’m no good without weapons/ Cried Tygon 

/So grab one!/ Screamed the vopice existed 

/Where!/ Demanded Tygon

/HERE!/ Responded the voice. Tygon seeing a crimson bladed longsword before him. He grabbed it fiercely /OH YES!/

*

Tygon rolled away from the next kick and pulled himself up to his knee

*

“You’re right Faulkner, I am no good without my weapons” Tygon’s eyes were crimson as he glared at the other boy. Standing and materialising the longsword. Faulkner blanched at the sight of the sword backing up as he sent his mage hand in to shove and punch at Tygon. The sword effortlessly cutting tearing the magic apart “I was trying to better myself. And you decided to kick me whilst I’m down. Fine then I will bring your line to an end! Die like your father did!” His roar one of rage and victory as he threw the now crimson bladed axe. Faulkner was shocked stone still, tales of his fathers demise haunting him as the axe blade twirled through the air at him seemingly in slow motion. What should only take a second felt like it would take hours. The axe drawing ever closer.

*

“ROAR!” A giant, warhorse-sized, Tiger appeared beside Tygon “Tyr Assundra ciart len” The axe stopped mid-air

*

“Da na tor en cet ciart” responded Tygon mechanically. The axe shifted into a fairy like form. Flying straight at the commanding tiger and landing on its broad nose.

*

“What the hell Cat! He deserves it” His crimson form stomping angrily

*

“And does Tyr deserve the price he would pay for killing that boy” The Cat’s green eyes stern on the small fairy like creature.

*

“You know I hate your wiser than thou s**t” He turned around in humph and dived off the Cat’s nose disappearing with an audible poof. The Cat moved forward. Stepping up to mage want to be 

*

“You should know, child, the only reason I spared you is to spare this child the repercussion of your death.” He roared in Faulkner's face. The boy collapsing. And turning and disappearing much like the sprite. The room seemed to come alive at their disappearance. All of Faulkner’s earlier magic dispelled by his unconscious 

*

Jiene Pierre whipped his head back and forth seeing Tygon standing and Faulkner collapsed. Yet before he could say anything Marcus walked into the room. 

*

“I thought something was awry. The magic coming from this room were all kinds of interesting” He looked from Tygon to Faulkner and shook his head in disapproval. “You two brawling again!”

*

“Yes sir” said Tygon subdued and barely on his feet

*

“He’s not dead is he?” asked Jiene Pierre concernedly looking at the slumped Faulkner.

*

“Not dead” said Marcus, “Which I will give you credit for Mister Giges. Now tell me-” Tygon slumped to the ground “Oh never mind”