Aelric's words hung in the air. He sensed some kind of reaction in the villagers, but he did not look to see what it was. He had only eyes for Brint now. The handsome lad's face was a hardened mask and yet there was an odd frown on his face. Aelric did not know what it meant.

Then Brint relaxed into a smile. "Well, well look who grew a spine?" Brint called out. "Remember when we were kids? You'd cry if you scraped your knee climbing trees."

The old memories burned in Aelric's mind. He remembered those days, following Brint around, desperate to keep up, to prove himself worthy of their friendship.

"Then you remember how I always had to stick up for you? Had to fight your battles? Gods, you were such a burden. Following me around like a lost kitten."

Aelric stiffened at the words. Was that really how Brint saw him back then?

"And now here you are." Brint spread his arms wide. "Finally a man. It’s about time, Aelric. I was worried you'd stay that sniveling little boy forever. But even if you've finally learned how to stand up, it doesn't change how this is going to end."

Brint dropped to a knee and pressed his hands against the ground. “Georamanthra!” Brint bellowed, and dark blue light flashed from his hands and into the ground. The village square's impacted earth began to shake before Brint's feet. Soft earth from beneath rose up in a churning mound, rolling toward Aelric.

Aelric let out a cry of surprise and leaped out of the way just in time, the mound drawing up everything in its path as it rolled past him.

Brint turned his hand and the mount spun around, twisting and hitting Aelric in his flank, sending him sprawling to the ground. He groaned and coughed dirt and dust. His entire left side throbbed with pain. He'd seen the blow coming but had been caught off guard by the sheer sight of it. The mound returned into the earth, leaving only soft earth in its wake.

"You know you cannot be the victor of this duel," Brint said with a grin. "Give up before you get hurt."

Aelric moved slowly, pushing himself back to his feet as he clutched his ribs. "Never."

He had to get close to Brint, that was the only way. Aelric was stronger in body and strength, that was his only edge. There was no other strategy. But Brint knew this too and would keep Aelric out of arm's reach.

"Let us find out how long ‘never’ really is," Brant snarled and slapped both hands to the ground and incanting the spell once more.

Two new mounds supported by dark blue arcana rose up, even bigger than before. Aelric couldn't believe it. This was beyond any farmer's magic. The arcana for such a spell must have been enormous. Was that why the Ascendant chose Brint to be his pupil?

The mounds arced like giant fingers and crashed toward Aelric. He sidestepped quickly left and right, dodging both crashes, but with his attention taken, he missed a third, smaller mound that Brint had gathered behind him. The blow came hard against his back, sending Aelric into the dirt, his head bouncing off the ground.

He was dazed, and the world seemed to rock beneath his body.

Get up! he told himself. Get. Up! He lifted his head and felt the blood pouring down his temple where it had hit the ground.

It's no use, we can't win, said a familiar voice.

It was the voice that always appeared when he was afraid. Just like when he discovered the existence of his brother. When he saw his mother and the tax collector. The voice always carried the same message.

Run.

Shut up! Aelric told the voice.

Run. Run. Run! RUN!

I told you to shut up!

Again he struggled to his feet, legs shaking, trying to hold onto the resolve in his heart. When he looked up, he found that Brint was ready, the three mounds already formed, their swirling points dipped down and ready to strike.

Aelric couldn't believe his eyes. Brint’s magic was unbelievable. Brint wasn't summoning an axe or a fan with his arcana, he was actually controlling the earth and actively choosing what he would do with it. How was such a thing even possible? Aelric had never seen anything like it.

Then he remembered something, a snippet of a newly returned memory, just as the mounds came crashing down over him.

“Magic is faith, little friend.”

Aelric leaped forward again in Brint's direction, only to be pushed back. The mounds punching him and spinning him in the air until he was slammed back down to the ground again.

If the village square had still been hard, he would have surely cracked bone by now, but the earth had been softened by Brint's earth spell, and if Aelric had one thing going for him, it was that his body was built like an ox.

Magic is faith, he told himself, holding onto the words that the woman had told him.

She may be Tainted, she may have stolen his memories, she may even be his enemy, but she was also an Ascendant. Greater than any mage that had come through the village in its memory. He was certain she had revealed to him a truth.

Magic is faith.

That was all he had to remember. He held onto that thought with all his might as he struggled through the pain, slowly pushing himself back to his feet.

The three mounds reformed and cashed at Aelric again, the same as they had before, and he took their assaults head on this time, feeling their blows hard against his shoulder and ribs as he fell to the ground. But this time he had made some progress. He was a third of the way across the great circle now.

Magic is faith, he repeated again while coughing hoarsely and rubbing dirt from his eyes as he struggled to his feet one knee at a time.

"Damn it, Aelric!" Brint called. "Give it up already. You know you can't win."

Aelric grinned as he blinked out the dirt. "Running out of arcana are you?"

Brint scowled. "Hardly." He pushed his hands to the ground again and the three mounds reformed, larger than ever before.

Aelric’s strength was waning, but he pressed his fatigue from his mind. Gathering his nameplate in his left hand and holding it close to his chest, he roared, charging straight at Brint, aiming for a gap between the mounds.

Magic is faith. Magic is faith. Magic is faith!

The tips of the mounds arced down and fell on him like a closing hand. Aelric jumped forward, curling into a ball mid air to take the hits on his back. His momentum cut into the mounds as they toppled over him. He hit the ground in a roll, his hands falling outward as sand rained across his whole body.

His world was agony. He knew he had bruises and cuts in a dozen places.

Magic is faith, he repeated in his mind.

"Damn it, Aelric, stay down!" Brint called.

Something about Brint's words cut through Aelric's pain. He would not stay down. With the last of his strength and will, he shot up and charged at Brint, his legs pounding against the ground, his mind's walls holding back the pain his body felt. He was past two thirds of the way across the circle. Five more steps and he'd be within arm's reach.

Magic is faith!

Brint took half a step backward, startled. He hadn't expected to Aelric to rise so quickly this time, and he had yet to summon his earthen mounds. Fear flashed across his face. Aelric was closing in.

Four steps.

Brint stood frozen as if caught in indecision. But it lasted only a heartbeat. Then the fear on Brint's face was replaced by a contemptuous smile, as if to say that he was not only also an Earthborn farmer but the son of a hunter. He may not be as strong as Aelric, but he was just fast. With a quick turn of his body, Brint leaped sideways and into the air with an easy grace.

Three steps.

Brint was moving even further out of Aelric's reach, his lithe body twisting away in the air, his legs elongating and calves extending with the force of his motion.

Time moved slower then. The rest of the world outside of the dueling ring disappeared and Aelric could see every detail before him.

Brant's sharp green eyes and victorious smile.

The breeze in the lad’s hair as he glided upward into the air, like a bird taking flight.

The bronze plate tied to Brint's waist tugging against the motion of his sidelong jump, following in his wake.

The rope pulling taut and then swinging upward ever so slightly upon reaching its fullest extent.

Magic is faith! At that moment Aelric's mind had cleared leaving only one thought, one belief.

And for this belief, he had become devout.

He believed with all his being.

He believed that hemp fiber was a form of wood.

Arcana surged into his outstretched hand. “Chop wood!"

The yellow axe burst from his fingertip, slicing the taut rope clean in two.

Brint’s heavy bronze plate was suddenly freed, momentum sending it spinning through the air, the rope tail trailing, light flashing against its smooth metalic edges.

Brint's eyes widening as his feet returned to the ground.

Two steps.

Aelric leaped with the last of his strength, hand still outstretched, his body going horizontal into the air. Brint pushing off again from the ground, reaching after his severed plate.

The smooth edges of the plate flashed in the waning sun as it spun and began to drop, its downward motion broken by the big hand closing around the cold bronze. And then Aelric was bringing it close to his chest with his own plate in the other hand, hitting the ground in a roll and coming to his knees.

Sucking in air, tears and blood streaming down his face, he raised his prize high above his head and declared, "Victor."

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✣✣✣ END OF EPISODE THREE ✣✣✣

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