Luther's Pride Part 10

As Luther and the party members approached, the servants bustled away from the sparring circle. Light crystals marked the path through the hedge until they reached a vast square. In the center was a raised circular dais of stone fifty feet in diameter. 

Flowers in triangular beds ringed the square hedge into a circle, leaving four paths intersecting and one path in a ring around the dais. They were yellow blooms tinged with pink toward their open blossoms, not unlike in shape to the gowns that flowed past them. Evening Primrose. The zesty honey scent transported Luther to his childhood, his father planting a small bed of flowers near the tower. 

“My mother’s favorite.” Luther recited, smiling to see them. 

Eira and Rhosyn shared a look. They walked behind him, and the others trailed behind them. 

Wulfric bowed to Luther as he led the approach and gestured to the circle. “We’ve lit the arena with the crystals, your Lordship, and swept the ring. It is ready if you and your party still wish to use it.” 

Luther nodded. “Thank you, we do.” He turned to Helena. “Will it do, my Lady?” 

Helena appraised the arena. “It will do, though there’s hardly anywhere for our spectators to stand.” 

“My apologies.” Wulfric said. That was all he said before he walked away, leaving the guests to stand. 

The spectators didn’t seem to mind. Many carried their drinks and watched as Helena and Luther stepped onto the ring. The guests spread themselves along the path encircling the dais, and the servants stood behind them. 

“Priestess Jowangshin, would you be so kind as to officiate our informal match?” Luther asked. 

Jo nodded and stepped into the ring, her white robes sweeping the stone. Wulfric’s staff was satisfied with the lack of dirt and dust disturbed by her motion. 

Helena and Luther stood opposite each other, each at the edge of the ring. Helena’s family stood behind her, while Lucas, Emily, Eira, and Rhosyn stood behind Luther. The rest of the crowd fanned out. Wulfric had disappeared somewhere, which was unfortunate. Luther hoped to ask the older man for information, but now there was no chance. He was going into this blind. 

“Would you like any weapons?” Luther asked Helena. “Practice weapons, of course.” 

Helena looked surprised. “My Arcana lends itself to more martial affinity. You must be confident to offer me that advantage.” 

She had an apparent physical advantage in the match. Luther was not slender, but his muscular body was still smaller than Helena’s. She was a head taller than him, and her form was larger—muscular and feminine but larger than most. The only noticeable fat on her body was her breasts, which Luther did his best not to notice. 

Luther shrugged. “I intend to offer you every advantage, my lady, in everything.” 

Helena looked surprised. Her mother blushed. Lucas snorted behind him, but Luther ignored it. The compliment might be forward and flowery, but Luther saw his effect on Helena by her blush. 

“I won’t go easy on you, you know. If you want to marry me, you’ll have to defeat me.” Helena said. 

“Is this our engagement, then? Or a simple spar?” Luther asked. 

“I suppose that’s up to you and whether you win or lose.” Helena said. She took a fighting stance, her feet angled, her fists clenched and raised in front of her chin. She nodded at Jo, saying that she was ready. 

Luther took his stance, which caused his observers’ confusion. His palms were open and turned sideways, his fingers slightly curled. His stance was more turned, narrowing the target Helena might have if her magic proved capable of range. 

“On my count.” Jo said, backing away from the center. “Five… four… three… two… one… begin!” 

Red light suffused Helena’s eyes in a momentary flash as she cast her spell. Luther moved in time to avoid her fist as she cleared the distance between them in a blur the silvery color of her dress. She’d aimed for his center of mass, but by the time she’d realized she’d missed, Luther had spun behind her, grabbed her forearm, and flipped her onto her back. 

Given her larger size, this was not an easy feat. She huffed as the stone, with the force of gravity behind it, knocked the wind out of her. 

The surrounding crowd blinked in surprise. 

“Interesting.” Luther said and meant it. “Personal Kinetics is a rare arcanum.” 

“He didn’t even cast a spell, did he?” Lucas asked. 

“I did not.” Luther said. “But we’re not finished yet. Unless I’m mistaken… Ah.” 

His words proved correct as Helena moved to her feet, Luther still holding her forearm and his foot on her shoulder. She raised her fist and him into the air as though he weighed nothing. 

“This is going to hurt.” Luther winced, but Helena only laughed and threw him to the ground. 

“You surprised me with that trick.” Helena said. “That won’t happen again.” 

“To be fair, you tried to surprise me first.” Luther rolled to his feet and watched her. She would need to cast her spell again. Channeling magic into herself to enhance her body was a rare ability and for a good reason. It went grotesquely or fatally wrong far too often and required intense focus. She demonstrated impressive skill with a dangerous arcana, which made sense given her parentage. Observation told Luther her family did not skimp on training.

“How did you avoid that blow?” Helena asked. “I was moving way faster than you should have been able to.” 

Luther shrugged. “I’m half Fey, remember? And I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” 

“Well, you’d better use your arcana soon, or this will be over.” Helena said. 

“I think I could handle you with the simple tricks, honestly.” Luther shrugged. 

Helena scoffed. “Oh, the tricks? They’re useless in combat. Literally child’s play.” 

Luther shrugged. “I’m better at them than most, for example, the light trick.” 

Helena rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath and held up her hand. A soft glow emanated from her palm, then fizzled out. “Let me guess. You’re going to tell me you can last for hours? I’ve heard that before.” 

Lucas snickered. 

Luther smiled. The remark was Helena's first flirtatious advance, and Luther took that as an encouraging sign. Whatever else might happen, he had Helena’s interest, if not her respect. 

Helena’s eyes flashed, and she surged forward, this time adjusting to the side. She anticipated Luther’s dodge, but he didn’t. He met her mid-stride with a raised palm. A flash of light blinded the observers and Helena. She staggered and swiped at Luther, the only one not blinded. 

“Hold!” Jo called. “I can’t see!” 

“Ah.” Luther raised his hands and stepped away, stopping until everyone blinked their sight back. “I warned you.” 

“So your arcanum is photomancy?” Helena asked. 

“Ha.” Luther shook his head. “No, that was just the light trick. Child’s play, remember? Anyone can do that.” 

“No they can’t.” Petros said. “That must have taken you years to develop.” 

“Ah, well… anyone with practice, dedication, a refusal to quit, and a drive to survive in dark places can. I assure you, my efforts to perfect the tricks of magic have saved my life on more than one occasion.” Luther shrugged. “Shall we continue, or do you yield?” 

“I won’t yield until you stop messing around and show me what you can do or until you yield.” Helena said, wiping her eyes. 

“Very well.” Luther shrugged. 

Helena shook her head, and her eyes flashed red again. This time, she didn’t surge forward in a blur of speed, but she watched Luther’s hands. He offered no spell but pressed his palm against her wrist. She wrenched herself free and stepped back. 

“It’s a fascinating application of arcane theory.” Luther said, continuing a casual discussion while he and Helena sparred hand to hand. Helena punched each blow fast and heavy, but Luther avoided or redirected them, throwing her off balance but never capitalizing on the opportunity. “Your spirit fuels your power. Tricks are the same, but they’re basic spells anyone with magic can do. They don’t use as much. The more complicated abilities require innate talent, and the applications of those talents, well–” 

Helena’s eyes flashed red again, and Luther smiled. His grin turned cocky, and he paid for it as Helena kicked him in the stomach. She knocked him from the center of the ring to its edge and into Lord Verdell, who threw him back to the stone. 

Luther coughed. “They take years of study and practice to hone.”

“Stop explaining it to me like you’re the only person who has studied magic.” Helena said. 

“I was just explaining why I thought of applying those same principles to the tricks.” Luther said as he stood. 

“I heard they didn’t accept him to study at the university.” Lucas said as if speaking to Emily. “The rumor I heard is he never manifested an arcanum.” 

Helena struck again, sweeping her leg under him blindingly fast to find he’d jumped back and avoided her heel by less than an inch. 

“Is that true?” Helena asked, advancing. “You’re deficient?” 

“I’m exemplary.” Luther said, shifting aside and forcing her to follow him around the circle. “Just like you.” 

His compliment surprised Helena again, and Luther took his opportunity this time. He surged forward, and Helena cast her spell, but this time, the red flare in her eyes was pale, and Luther knew she was running on empty. That was the dilemma with arcanums. They used more power than tricks, and a single person? They were only capable of so much before they needed to recover. Stamina was different for everyone. That was why marriages were so important. Combining your spirit with another’s? Joining your soul to someone else’s? The pool of power grew. More people in the union became greater power, more potent spells, more stamina under them, and so forth. 

Helena and Luther were on their own, but Helena had been casting her arcanum repeatedly. Meanwhile, Luther had cast one simple trick, and nothing else so far as anyone could see. 

By Luther's estimation, each burst of Helena’s strength only lasted for a dozen seconds or less. She was out of power; her pool drained. Helena was only one person, after all. She was still physically superior, but Luther had yet to use his arcanum. Now, he had a clear advantage in the eyes of the crowd. 

“She yields!” Petros called out. 

“I do not!” Helena defied her father. The glare she gave him was enough to wilt stone. 

Most looked impressed with Luther’s cleverness. Others pressed forward, leaning in to see what he was about to unleash. This was the moment for him to drop the pretense and reveal his power. He’d outlasted her; now, he could end the fight at leisure. 

However, Helena wasn’t willing to give up, and Luther admired that. She struck at him again, stepping in, but Luther moved like the wind. She might as well have punched the wind. He moved around her with quick, flowing steps and movements that redirected her momentum every time Helena struck at him. She stumbled and staggered, and the punches became more desperate until even she grew tired. 

The crowd might have protested such a mundane combat display if it weren’t so entertaining and Luther’s form so unusual. He hadn’t learned that combat style in the Empire, and Lionel and several others watched and discussed the potential sources in hushed whispers. 

Finally, Luther seemed to gain the undeniable upper hand, placing them in a stalemate. He pressed his palm to the center of her back and maintained his position behind her. She swung and kicked, but turn as she might, he remained out of her sight and reach. Lucas and others in the crowd were chuckling at her furious desperation. 

Then her eyes flashed red, pale, and flickering, drawing out the dregs of her power. 

Helena spun with her arms close, then swung her arm as though backhanding him with a shield. Her final burst of speed and strength caught him across the chest and hurled him. He flipped but didn’t stick the landing and slid on the stone, rolling to a stop with his closed eyes pointed toward the sky. He didn’t rise. 

“Is he…” Lucas couldn’t help the hope in his voice. 

“He’s fine.” Rhosyn informed the observers. 

“He’ll get up.” Eira assured them. 

Luther still didn’t stir, and the crowd looked back and forth between Helena and his limp form with expectation. 

Jo moved to check on him, but Helena beat her to it. As soon as she touched his shoulder, his eyes opened, and he revealed his trick. Luther struck as fast as a snake, and with her magic used up, she tried to resist, but gravity and balance worked against her. He gripped her wrist, planted a foot against her corseted stomach, and flipped her. He rolled with her, twisted, and wrestled her arm behind her, so she was lying prone on the ground. Luther straddled her back, her fingers gripped in a vice of his hands and bent at painful angles. 

Helena struggled. She twisted, she bucked, but she couldn’t wrest free or get her limbs under her to push up. She couldn’t roll, and the pain in her hands was significant enough that she feared damage. 

“I yield!” Helena barked and shoved Luther away as soon as he let go. 

Bertilak and a few others laughed but politely applauded as the couple regained their feet. 

“Lord Le Fey is the winner!” Jowangshin declared. She gestured to him with an upturned hand. 

Helena growled. “That was a dirty trick.” 

“Forgive me.” Luther bowed. “I only did it so I could marry you.” 

Helena’s anger fled at that. Her glare softened, and she laughed, shaking her head. “We’ll see.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You still didn’t use your arcanum.” 

“My arcanum isn’t suitable for a friendly sparring match.” Luther said. He delivered the lie without effort and tinted it with embarrassment as though confessing something he should have disclosed before their fight. “It’s rather nasty, I’m afraid.” 

“Petrification?” Lucas guessed. “I’ve heard some Fey can turn people to stone.” 

Luther laughed. The true nature of that rumor was less literal than Lucas might have guessed. His guests proved ignorant of the comedy, so Luther restrained his laughter into a polite smile. 

“Or is it necromantic?” Lucas pressed. “Do you have a forbidden arcanum, my lord? Do you face exile if you use it? Is that why the university rejected you?” 

“Enough.” Bertilak Verdell clapped Lucas on the back in a ‘friendly’ gesture that could hurt a sturdier man. Lucas stumbled and would have fallen if Bertilak hadn’t clamped his hand on his shoulder. “Lord Le Fey has sense. If I were in his position, I wouldn’t reveal my abilities either, and here he’s defeated someone stronger, faster, and prettier than he is in a brilliant and entertaining manner! Good show, both of you!” 

“Thank you, Lord Verdell.” Luther bowed. 

“Now come on! I’m likely to chew my hands if we don’t sit to dinner soon.” Lord Verdell swept his arm around Lucas and carried him toward the house, which left his wives, daughters, and Emily to walk behind them. 

Luther and the others trailed them toward the house, but Luther stopped when he saw a familiar set of horns entering the square. He didn’t summon the smile on his face, but it appeared, nonetheless. 

“Oh.” Emily said, catching Luther’s attention, speaking to Rhosyn, who was nearest, in a conspiratorial stage whisper. “Who invited the Demi?” 

Luther’s eyes flared, and he turned to see Emily. She looked back at him, surprised at the wrath in his eyes. There was a marked difference between their two brands of Demihuman. Luther looked human. He might have passed as a human if he wasn’t open about his origins. A beautiful human at that. 

Criella was less lucky. Her blood didn’t come from the other world’s fey magic. Her lineage traced back to the infernal magics of the hells. Her red skin, spade-tipped tail, long iron-colored nails, sharpened canine teeth, and curved horns were undeniable marks of that. They earned her disdain from most citizens of the Empire who worshiped the gods of heaven in preference to the gods of hell. Luther had thought most people were capable of looking past such appearances. Discovering Emily Bruville’s prejudice was an enlightenment that was not in her favor. 

“Oh.” Emily paled at her mistake and the consequent fire in Luther’s eyes. “My apologies, my Lord. I didn’t mean you, of course. I meant… Uh…” She stammered. 

“I invited her.” He said, his voice cold. “Criella is a dear, dear friend. If any of you have an issue with that, you may take your leave of my lands and my friendship with whatever haste you can afford. I will not dine with you or welcome you.” 

Criella looked surprised at the venom in his voice. Her surprise was enough to knock her angry expression away, but her wrathful frown returned soon enough. No doubt Wulfric had tattled on Luther’s idiocy, and she’d come to berate him for endangering his life. A book in her hand, one of his father’s journals, gave him pause. 

The crowd, unsure of how to respond to Luther’s sudden rudeness and enmity for Criella’s sake, glanced at one another until Emily nodded her apology to Criella. 

“Please forgive my rudeness.” Emily said, her face aflame as the crowd’s eyes turned her way. “It won’t happen again.” 

Criella nodded. “Of course. I apologize if my sudden appearance took you by surprise.” She did not smile or frown but kept her face neutral. 

Emily bobbed a fraction of an inch in a quick curtsey and moved past her, disappearing into the hedge path. 

The rest followed, and the servants had dinner ready. Only Jo lingered near the exit while Criella stalked toward Luther, who remained on the dais. 

Criella stepped forward and slammed the journal against Luther’s chest. Luther realized that she was, indeed, angry with him.

“We will discuss whatever that was later. Right now, we need to talk.” Criella said. “I think your father might have discovered your arcanum.”