Chapter 20 #2
They were entering the final quarter when the last line in front of Senan and Coll was cleared away.
They’d paid a high price in numbers for their strategy—only two apprentices apart from the captains were left on the field.
But they were fresher; éadha could feel Senan’s ready power humming through her.
By contrast Ionáin and Linn were battered and weary.
Ionáin had only two lines of power left, one having dropped off, while Linn had just one.
On Linn’s signal their remaining four apprentices pulled in close as they advanced on Senan and Coll.
Six to four—though tired, the odds were in Ionáin and Linn’s favor.
Now it was about running down the clock and holding on.
Senan, who’d stayed on the ground throughout, flew up into the air, holding his staff in combat stance.
“Hope you enjoyed the warm-up. I suppose it’s time we gave the visitors a real game, hmm?
” Bowing his head, he sent an almighty blast sweeping in a half circle in front of him.
It was so powerful it sent two apprentices tumbling at once.
Ionáin dived to try to catch one, and Senan immediately took his chance, sending a fiery blast hurtling straight at Ionáin’s exposed chest. The crowd, filled with experienced Channellers, gasped.
éadha’s instincts took over. Closing her eyes, she sent her power rocketing into Ionáin.
Senan’s blast still sent him flying backward—he hit the ground with a sickening thud—but éadha’s power cushioned the worst of the impact.
Linn was there in a heartbeat, Ionáin’s hand shooting up as hers came down, and she lifted him into the air before he could be counted out.
The crowd whooped in relief and delight.
Ionáin retreated, dazed, shaking his head, two apprentices pulling in front of him protectively.
Linn whirled about to face Senan, eyes blazing. “See how far you get trying that on me.”
Senan knew as well as anyone there that a direct blow like that to Linn would get him sent off.
He fell into a defensive stance as she flew at him.
His line of power faded, the Fodder now completely exhausted by his almighty draw moments before.
As his Keeper, éadha needed to switch away to a fresh line.
But she was drained herself from the surge she’d just sent to Ionáin, and instead of a smooth pickup, she faltered, dropping the spent Fodder line but fumbling the switch to the fresher line.
In that moment Linn swept in, crashing with her shoulder into Senan, knocking his staff out of his hands before shooting a ball of power from her palm into his chest. Unable to draw power from the Fodder, Senan tried to channel power from éadha instead, but her thought-wall was too strong, blocking his draw so his channel came back empty and leaving him without any power to absorb the impact.
Linn’s blow sent him flying, sprawling in an ungainly heap just outside the play line. He was out of the match.
While Ionáin and Linn’s team turned to face Cormac and the one other remaining apprentice, Senan scrambled to his feet, livid. He raced over to where éadha stood and grabbed her by the shoulders, screaming into her face.
“You cheat! You dropped that Fodder line then shielded yourself on purpose. You sabotaged me to help Ionáin—you’ll be sent as Fodder for this!”
His eyes were blazing, his face bright red with effort and rage as he spat the words at her.
Already shaken by the effort of saving Ionáin and the realization she’d messed up with the Fodder line, éadha’s heart shocked into overdrive at his face so close to hers, filled with what looked like hatred.
With an effort, though, she forced herself not to react.
Beside her, Gry said, “Hey, Senan, she’s just keeping for you.
She can’t magically make you any good. Stop being such a sore loser. ”
Senan’s face darkened further, and he raised his fist as if to blast Gry. But Gry didn’t move a muscle, only stared back at him, his face expressionless.
At the same moment, Master Irial stepped in between them. “Senan. If éadha has deliberately failed you, she’ll be severely punished. Might I remind you, however, of our audience.”
Senan’s eyes darted up to where his father and the other Lords Channeller sat in the gallery. He clamped his jaws shut, turned on his heel, and stalked over to where the rest of his team were watching the last few seconds of the match.
Meanwhile, the Master Librarian, who’d been acting as a touchline umpire, gripped éadha by the shoulder and pointed her toward First House. As she began the long trudge up the hill, she heard the gallery behind her cheering. Ionáin and Linn’s team had won.
Moments later came Master Dathin’s voice. “Lord Ionáin, Lady Linn, as our victorious captains I present you with these yew staffs, made from the wood of the temple trees. When you leave Lambay, may you wield them always to the greater glory of the Ailm and Manon Families.”