83. From Mountainhome (III)
I laid out simple rules after getting them to agree to a spar. The main one, of course, is that they immediately lose if I manage to touch them. If this were a real fight, [Forcethorn Burst] would only require that much to defeat them. Aisling in particular got rather huffy after I set that term, but Maeve and Cairbre both got her to agree - because it's the truth. Tanascáil is off the table, though. Its abilities, at least - I decided that it would be unfair. And, as far as I know, there aren't many awakened who can simply vanish into thin air.
I don't think that I'll need it, though.
Aisling rushes me like a bull, but lightning quick. Either she's trying to convince me that she's a reckless fighter, or she really is. A smile parts my lips, my gaze caught by the woman fiddling with her hands. A trick - she must have a trick. Why else would she seem so cocksure about charging a mage?
To my left, something appears, whizzing through [Aesthesia]'s field before landing beside me with a quiet thud. A thick stem that leads up to a bulbous cap, utterly brimming with energy - to the point that it feels as if its walls are straining to contain it. A mushroom. It's a mushroom, isn't it?
It might not be my place to say this, but isn't she sort of just giving away her gimmick with that outfit?
A few delicate threads wind themselves around the stem of that mushroom, testing the sturdiness of its walls as they do. It feels like it's about to pop, and the brawler is only a few seconds away from pummeling my face in. Gods, her fists are practically sparking from all that aura.
I take a step back, swerving my fingers toward Maeve. It's a cruel trick - I don't really need to wave my hands around in order to use the spell. Instead, the mushroom, so terribly close to bursting, soars toward Aisling. A wave of shock crosses through her face, feet stopping, movement halted. Is she going to try and reverse? Maeve grumbles something, audible enough for me to catch a whiff of its tone - a curse of some sort, I'm sure, but I don't speak the dwarven language.
Then, with a great flash and a resounding shriek, the stem and cap both rend apart from the well of energy inside - finally freed from its prison and given free reign to burst out into its surroundings. An explosive mushroom, a delayed attack - she's impressive. I don't think that I could do the same. She must not have any control over its detonation, though.
And Aisling... Well, surely that must have hurt a bit, shouldn't it?
"Gods dammit!" Aisling grumbles, bordering on growling. Light, smoke, and dust fade away, revealing her silhouette. She looks a lot more craggy than I remember, though. Jagged protrusions line her face, and both of the arms held up in a cross in front of her. Stone and rock, as the dissipating mist finally shows - it's covering every inch of her exposed flesh, save for large chunks that have flaked off onto the ground below. A potent bit of fungus, but not enough to pierce through a living boulder, it'd seem.
"Fecking mages, I swear!" Her fist pivots out, a flood of aura gathering outside of her skin, flaring up briefly. There's a sound of rock crunching and grinding into gravel, and then those bits of crag all across her body fly loose. The fragments on her knuckles shoot out faster than arrows, lacking in aim but excelling in quantity. Dozens of razor-sharp missiles now make their way toward me.
And the mage of the mushroom variety, Maeve, she's up to something as well.
They're strong, really very strong. But it doesn't matter to me in the least. In all honesty, it's just more reason why I should force myself to stomp them into the dirt, to crush them with an overwhelming victory. I can't let such bright prospects be grinded into nothing by the mess I'm intent on diving headlong into. I have the opportunity to save two lives here - that's what I'm fighting for.
[Telekinesis], my shining beacon of hope in the midst of every one of my darkest hours. What isn't it capable of? A great deal of things, yes, but these two seem more than fine with throwing its ideal use-cases toward me. My mind flashes back to the Crown Hunters - it worked startlingly well on them. I wouldn't have managed to kill them, otherwise.
For each of those wicked pebbles, a thread whips around, snatching them out of the air. Their movement isn't immediately halted, though. In fact, they move at least a couple of meters before slowing to a standstill - if I had timed it wrong, the threads would be hanging out of my well-cratered flesh.
With a twist, the little rocks gather together into a more cohesive mass. A lump of earth that resembles a disc-like boulder. It's mentally taxing to keep them floating there, but well worth it - surely well worth it. It's a weapon and a shield both.
Another toadstool - this one looks different, though, with a brown, flat cap. It feels different, too. Something about the energy inside feels more... Nebulous? With some effort, I force that ball of pebbles to swing toward the flying fungus, batting it out of the air.
And popping it.
It isn't an explosion this time. Instead, a plume of fog, smoke, and spores roll out into the area around us. It's not just visual obscurity, though, but magical obscurity. Bits of mana are scattered throughout that smoke, making it difficult to pin down exactly what's happening within. If a particularly strong patch of mana were to appear, I would be able to sense it, of course. But if Maeve and Aisling act with subtlety, it could spell the end for me.
But they still lack sight, same as me. And if I'm guessing correctly, they don't know about my distinct advantage.
The smell of rosewater is carried in the air, and then apples. A moment later, I see a glint of light within the fog - it flickers away, but not before hurtling to close the distance between us. I feel a face, and then a leg, and then the whole. Aisling, fists coated in energy and earth. Maeve's mana is covering her like a film, and that sweet scent lingers on her.
A wild kick sends her foot careening toward my skull. I almost want to laugh - won't she kill me if that lands? There really isn't a good way for awakened to spar, is there?
I duck, down and to the left. It flies overhead, just barely brushing against the tip of my hat. And I see it then and there, the end - Aisling's end. All it takes is a spring upward, and a hand placed on the very center of her torso. The captivation of that opportunity for victory nearly prevents me from hearing the sound of whistling wind as my hand hovers just above her shirt. I touch against it, and I feel a foot halting in its tracks only centimeters above my head.
For all my bluster, I was only a few centimeters away from having my head cleaved in half by a boot-turned-axe.
I won against Aisling.
Next would be Maive.
The two were a team, of course, and the second pillar fell without much provocation. She was fast for a mage, but I was faster for a mage. Petty tricks and spores of all sizes would prove useful in a cooperative context, enough to allow her to bring more than just the benefit of one awakened - but only if she acts with others. Alone, she simply falls.
And I have won.
And I have doomed Cairbre's family to enter that maw of chaos.