Chapter 20
The guests had been arriving all morning, some on horseback across the landbridge, others on sailing ships moored offshore, channeling in to alight on the dock.
It was raining heavily, but the Masters had raised a power dome above the combat field the night before.
Parents and apprentices stood about inside the dome in small groups, and the air was filled with the hubbub of greeting.
éadha sat a little way away from the combat field on the edge of the handball alley, her back against the wall.
Behind her the diverted rain spattered noisily into the stone alley.
Only her face was visible, the rest of her wrapped and hooded against the chill in her Keeper’s cloak as she watched the steadily growing throng.
The elegantly ageless mothers, the proudly confident fathers, all impervious and certain to the core.
And why not? This was their world, built by and for their breed, and it fitted them like a second skin.
The power that radiated from these Families was as insidious and implacable as any Master’s Inquisition.
Every large gesture, every loud laugh, every immaculate outfit said: We’re better than you.
You who are different, know that your worth is less than ours.
Look at us and feel shame. Feel less than us, and when you’re on the floor, bow down to us.
éadha could feel it, the force field of dominance that flowed out from the crowd in front of her, as surely as she could see the power that shone from Master Irial’s staff to hold off the rain.
It was the power she felt every day: in her dorm, in class, in the ref.
Everywhere, like a pressure on the back of her head, pressing her down onto her knees.
But something had changed since she’d returned from the infirmary.
A dragon had called her sister, there, on that field under a dome of stars.
She’d filled it with her heart’s gift, and it’d burned the Masters’ cage into a twisted heap of metal.
As she sat there on the damp ground in her thin wool cloak, it felt as strong as a dragon’s mailed skin, impervious.
“Keeper, on your feet.”
Master Irial’s sharp tone broke through her thoughts.
“Lord Aedan has asked to greet you; go at once.”
Over at the viewing platform, éadha’s heart gave a lurch to see the familiar faces of Lord Aedan and Lady úra, Ionáin beside them, beaming.
She walked over, and to her surprise Lord Aedan held out his arms toward her and enveloped her in a warm hug.
As he did, all the memories of her beloved Keep she’d so carefully hidden away came rushing back in a wave that raced all the way from the North Tower over the forests and mountains, across city and sea to crash against her heart.
“You’re recovered, I hope? Master Healer told us you’d been unwell.”
“Yes, my lord,” she replied.
“He fairly scolded Ionáin earlier. Seemingly he insisted on staying by your side all those nights you were unconscious. The Master’s convinced that’s why Ionáin’s power stuttered for a few days.”
éadha looked across at Ionáin, who’d flushed bright red as his father spoke.
He was dressed in combat gear, banded across his chest and down his arms. He was now taller than his father, than her, she realized, finally fully grown, while the months of training had turned his naturally slender build into something lean and finely honed.
Even his face looked different—stronger, more defined, his jawline set with determination.
Her heart lifted suddenly, and before he could say anything, she turned back to Lord Aedan.
“Master Healer is as bad as Béithe when it comes to fussing, my lord,” she said. “Ionáin will do you proud today, I’ve no doubt.”
“Well said,” replied Lady úra. “Now come, Ionáin, we’re sitting with Lady De Paor, and I want you to come say hello.
” As the three of them walked away, éadha heard úra continue, “Though all anyone can talk about is this dragon escaping. I don’t know what your uncle was thinking of, bringing it to First Island like that.
We’re lucky it didn’t try to kill all of you. ”
“Huath’s hunting it again, isn’t he?” she heard Aedan reply before they went out of earshot.
éadha offered up a small prayer for the young dragon as she headed for her spot on the sidelines.
From there, she saw Ionáin and his parents join an immaculately dressed, silver-haired version of Ailbhe.
Moments later Ailbhe herself appeared beside them.
She was as beautifully turned out as ever, dressed specially for the match in a tailored combat bodice and skirt showing her trim figure, though éadha saw how her mother reached out to straighten her bodice and tuck her hair behind her ears.
éadha was suddenly conscious of how she was still in her plain training tunic.
The Ailms and the De Paors, meanwhile, all embraced each other, laughing and chatting until Master Irial called for the contestants to take the field.
In combat the apprentice Channellers were divided into two teams. An apprentice was knocked out if they were pushed outside the playing field boundaries or if they were knocked off their feet on the ground for a count of five.
The winners were the team with the most members left standing at the end of the match.
Ionáin was the captain of one team with Linn.
Senan was captain of the other team with another apprentice, Cormac, as co-captain.
Linn was heavily padded, with two Masters stationed on the sidelines to protect her. As the strongest of the Keeper novices, Gry had been assigned as her Keeper as usual. Taking up position beside éadha, he said quietly, with a nod toward Senan, “Be careful today. He’ll do anything to win.”
éadha nodded, her mind going toward her thought-wall, making sure her gift was hidden carefully behind it, along with some reserves of energy.
Master Irial went to stand in the center of the playing field and addressed the parents.
“Welcome all to the annual autumn trials. I’m proud to say this is one of the strongest apprentice years I’ve had the privilege of training.
Their skill, commitment, and loyalty is outstanding, and I’m confident the future of the Families is in safe hands.
My lords, lady—a clean fight, please. You may begin. ”
The teams quickly took up their positions.
The possibilities were endless, and the captains would’ve spent days assessing the strengths and weaknesses of the different apprentices—who’d take on who, who needed shielding, who could fight best in the air and who on the ground.
The aim was to keep as many apprentices in play for as long as possible; if one side got a significant numerical advantage early on, it’d all be over quickly.
Even the strongest Channeller apprentice wouldn’t be able to withstand the combined strength of seven or more apprentices on the other team ganging up on him.
éadha knew Ionáin’s instinct would always be to lose as few men as possible.
That was his weakness when facing a ruthless fighter like Senan.
He’d spread himself too thin trying to save everyone while Senan would abandon the weakest players on his team or line them up as frontline fodder early on to protect the stronger players and save their strength.
True to form, she saw Ionáin and Linn take up positions at the far ends of the playing space: typical protector stances.
On the other side, Senan and Cormac withdrew three layers behind their players, forming a tight clump in the center.
Then the time for thinking was over as she felt the wave of Senan’s onrushing channel hit her, harsh and demanding.
For the trials, the apprentice Channellers were permitted to use up to three threads, so the skill of their chosen Keeper came into play, ensuring they switched between threads at the right moments and maintained a steady flow.
As each thread was slightly different, there was always a moment of adjustment when a Channeller moved between them.
A good Keeper would judge not only the strength of the thread but also the best moment to switch.
The teams had been picked to give the spectators an even contest, and so it proved.
Ionáin and Linn were everywhere, protecting their team, diving in with their staffs to head off bolts.
Senan, meanwhile, sat back, husbanding his strength for occasional thunderbolts, watching as his team pulled the two opposing captains the length and breadth of the pitch.
Slowly Ionáin and Linn began to whittle away his buffer of apprentices, as first one, then another was knocked out of the field of play, blasted by bolts of pure power they couldn’t deflect with their staffs.
The playing field was ringed by Masters ready to catch apprentices before they could sustain serious injury, though Senan hit one student so hard he was catapulted out over the sea, and it took Irial and Dathin’s combined effort to create a safety net and stop him crashing into the choppy waters.