Devotia Ch. 19: Conviction

Callie forces herself to take control of her breathing. She holds her hands tightly at her navel, squeezing them to stabilize herself. "Magister Hamada, I do not wish to be a Devotia under lock and key, blessing only leaders and nobles." A beat. "I care about the rest of this city - the ones who have never, ever, met a Devotia. I care for my heart, and for my own need to be whole."

Hamada reflects on that, tries to read the sincerity of her words. She steps back, nodding resolutely, seemingly pleased with the answer.

"Why are you doing this?" Callie attempts.

Hamada purses her lips. "Irreverent as you are... you have earned a portion of my respect, one which few Devotia ever do. I saw you out in the fields in the heat, saw the way you interacted with the farmers like they mattered. It has been some time since I've seen a Devotia care like that.

"And..." She hesitates. She whips her forearms out of her billowing sleeves, crossing them over her chest. "Say you knock a flower pot off of a shelf and shatter it. You are faced with a choice: allow nature to run its course and let the plant decay, or, attempt to repot it." She takes a low breath. "We cannot unbreak this pot - you've pushed it off the shelf. I fear what may happen if we allow politics to run its course," she shrugs her head back towards the Imperium. Then she steps forward, once again allowing a mild threat to enter her speech. "If I survive these challenges, you and I are going to have a long conversation about repotting this godsforsaken government."

And, feeling a little frightened of doing so, Callie extends a hand out to her. Hamada's brow raises, but after a moment she accepts it, shaking her hand.

"Now, I am going to prepare. They are two of the strongest mages alive, mind you," the Magister tells her, gazing up at the arriving morning. Callie enjoys the continued presence of the full moon in the blue sky, holding on to the memory of its gift.

With a whip of her cloak, Hamada turns and marches off.

- - -

The news of the twin duels between Magisters spreads through the city just as quickly as the news of Yala's new Devotia does. A massive crowd turns out to the main plaza, numbering at least a thousand, scattered in the avenues, on rooftops, hanging off of balconies.

Callie watches from her own terrace, set into the front face of the central cathedral to Suul, the very same one she waited in just before proclaiming Junivere as a Devotia of Solva. Gloriana keeps watch just outside the entrance to it, resolute in ensuring Callie might have peace from unwelcome interruptions, which she appreciates dearly. She could hardly handle her own nerves, much less anyone else's. Goddess forbid she have to act calm and collected - at least up on the balcony she is visible enough that people feel her presence but far enough that she doesn't have to police her expression.

A circular, threadstone plaza. A large fountain, with the blazing symbol of Suul spitting out water from its sharp rays. Avenues descending out from it like spokes of a wheel. She'd hoped her agony of whether or not she'd need to flee would end in the Imperium, but now, it seems, this is where it will be decided.

A noise behind her, and she turns to find Calvin stepping onto the balcony.

Before she can even react, he's scooped her up into his arms. His hand is in her hair, his arm around her back. His breath is on her neck, and it's so painfully easy to bury herself into his grasp.

"Calvin!" She squeaks, squeezing him back just as tightly.

"You're not exiled," he replies. Gleeful. Relieved. And Callie realizes how worried he had been without showing it - that he had been acting confident but was truly afraid for her. His relief brings her in deeper, and he's grabbing hold of her with a grounding satisfaction - as though all would be right, now that she could stay.

"Not yet," she whispers. She releases a long breath into his shoulder, then inhales his comforting scent. He's in his usual armor, and from his body language he's thrilled about that fact. "Is it... well... you're holding me in front of the whole city."

"What can they do, excommunicate you twice?" He chuckles, and she allows herself to relax into his embrace even further.

In front of everyone. He's holding me in front of everyone.

And she brings her lips to his neck, kissing him gently and then simply leaving her mouth pressed against his skin, allowing the knowledge to settle within her. He isn't a secret anymore. He isn't a scandal waiting to happen. He isn't leaving.

Sure, he's a scandal in progress, but at least she can enjoy it for now.

"I thought you'd be busy," she tells him as he finally sets her down.

Calvin steps forward, leaning his hip into the bannister and gazing out over the whole city before them. "I thought I would be. But, it seems Knight-Captain Wellt has decided to preside over the duels instead. She's personally arranging security." He winces just a little. "For some reason, she worried I might not be the best face of the Knighthood at the moment." And she giggles with him. "She also asked me to tell you that this is not what she had in mind when she said she'd keep our secret."

"Well..." Callie sighs and shrugs. Rolling her eyes, she steps forward and takes his hand. "If it's any comfort to her, I could never have predicted this, either." She brings his wrist to her lips, then looks down at her city below. Her city. Her home. A patter of worry enters her, knowing she might lose it all in just a few moments. "Do you think Hamada can win?"

"Against one? Sure," Calvin nods. "Back-to-back will be a tough bout unless she ends them quickly." His hand wraps around her waist as the two of them now face the city - and for a moment, standing beside him and knowing that surely hundreds of people were watching them, whispering about them, she feels like a princess with her prince.

"What happens after?" Calvin asks quietly.

"Win? We try to follow the goddesses' will." She closes her eyes. "Lose? Well, I never got used to a life of comfort and luxury anyway." She brings her hips closer to touch against his. "But, we'll be together."

"Together," he affirms, and Callie thinks about how much more trouble it would be to kiss him again. And what if we did more than kiss? She shudders, more excited than she ought to admit at the idea.

The background buzz of the crowd dims as two figures enter into the courtyard - Magister Krann, and Knight-Captain Wellt. They stand before the massive fountain, and with a simple spell to amplify their voices, they begin in earnest.

"At the discretion of Head Magister Krann," Wellt announces authoritatively, "I shall be officiating these duels. This is done in compliance with agreement from both parties-,"

Another noise behind Callie, and suddenly Junivere is at her side.

"Hey, Cal," she places a hand on her back.

"June," she beams. Junivere tips her chin up to meet her lips quickly, and Callie has to take a long breath to regain control of herself.

"Calvin," her fellow Devotia leans forward to greet him.

They've both kissed me in front of everyone. Both of them-

"Hal Devotia," he replies warmly.

Everyone saw and now both of their arms are on me and-

She chokes back the feeling, resolving to do something about that later. She shakes her head abruptly, and a knowing look from Junivere says she's less subtle about her excitement than she thought. Neither of them shy away from their touch upon her, settling into a shared embrace of her.

And Callie really does not want to have to leave this city. With one hand offered to each, she grabs hold of both of their palms and squeezes them.

"There shall be two rounds, provided the outcome of the first," the Knight-Captain continues. "Magister Markin will face Magister Hamada first, followed by Magister Velena's challenge if Hamada prevails."

"Betting pools favor Hamada over Markin," Junivere relates.

Calvin snorts in agreement. "I'm pretty sure Mykah could defeat Markin."

"He's a Magister," Callie says, not sharing their confidence. "It'll be close."

Wellt continues her announcement. "Fights conclude upon surrender or death. Surrender may be forced if the defeated party is incapacitated."

At this, the Head Magister speaks up as well. "Victor of each round is entitled to nomination of a successor to the defeated party's seat. This nominee must then face any challenges before acceptance into the Imperium."

"No weapons allowed - duels are to be magic only," Wellt adds. "No outside intervention. Violations result in forfeit, and prosecution."

And at that, Magister Hamada enters the courtyard. She wears heavy green robes, dropping all the way down to the floor, with billowing sleeves and a heavy hood. It's two hours until noon, and yet the summer day is already hot enough to bring sweat to Callie's skin, even in her lightest dress. She can't imagine how unbearable the heat would be in full sunlight in those robes.

"The challengers have set the time and location," Wellt declares.

Markin enters next, having completely disregarded his formal robes. He wears a light tank top and trousers, a comfortable linen that wouldn't inhibit his movement in any way. It shows off his heavy and hairy chest, his mountainous form. He might be shorter than Hamada by an inch or two, but only because she is extraordinarily tall. Her slender form seems far smaller compared to his burly muscles.

Unsure of what to say, Callie turns to Junivere and asks, "What do the betting pools say about Hamada versus Velena?"

Junivere squeezes her hand and speaks with a quiet voice. "Velena's the youngest on the council - one of the youngest ever to sit on the Imperium. She's a prodigy. Her challenge against Favan lasted six seconds."

"So, Velena," Callie summarizes grimly.

"Yeah."

"Spells must be contained to the courtyard, and may not exit its bounds," the Knight-Captain continues. "Duelists may not leave the chosen arena. Retreat from this space constitutes a forfeit." She takes an efficient breath, then says curtly, "The duel commences at the chiming of the bell."

And then it's just Hamada and Markin in the courtyard, standing across its length while the city falls eerily silent. Callie is sure she's never heard Solva so quiet before, except at night.

"Gods," she muses, looking down at Hamada's still form. "It must be hot in those robes. Is she holding a frost charm?"

"It'd be a waste of energy," Calvin puffs.

"Heatstroke is worse," Junivere rebuts, and Calvin bobs his head in agreement.

And the bell chimes.

Callie hardly follows what comes next.

Markin moves first, his fingertips grabbing hold of the very air and condensing it into energy, tearing it apart as though the light itself is fabric, and he claps his hands together. It sends a furious blast of fiery, golden energy booming through the courtyard to Hamada, racing nearly so quickly that most of what Callie could see is blinded by the flash of light.

And Hamada throws off her robes, which lift into the air with a magic like Callie has never seen before. It expands out, melting away into what she can only assume is a frost charm from the flash of cold that whips through the air around them. But the charm melts into a inky black ward, storming through Hamada like a sudden thunderstorm, condensing into a towering shield in front of her. It sucks the light out of the air around Hamada, absorbing the energy like some sort of abyss.

It forms into a convex ward before her, consuming the blast from Markin and flash freezing it, shattering the frantic beams of energy into shards. With a wave of her outstretched arms, those shards race back at him.

With a horrendous shattering crash, Markin is impaled a thousand times over.

He dies in less than ten seconds.

"That was..."

Junivere makes a noise, somewhere between amazed and horrified, and Callie feels the same. She's locked in place, her mind still racing to comprehend how quickly the space before them was torn apart at the will of the mages. She's seen a wide variety of spells by this point - but Callie realizes she's never seen them used in combat before.

It's furious, it's frightening, and it's awe-inspiring.

And as she sees Hamada's calm form watch him die like it was no surprise, Callie realizes why exactly she holds her seat on the Imperium. It wasn't just her sheer power - Markin's blast was every bit as impressive as hers - she was a strategist, cunning, piercing, incisive. She'd predicted his move exactly and built her entire defense around it. The battle was over before either of them had even entered the courtyard - Markin was just the last to know it.

And watching the terror of their battle, Callie understands for the first time just how much power each member of that council holds at their fingertips. Perhaps she should have been more frightened around them than she was.

"Markin was a fool," Calvin is saying to Junivere. "Now Hamada gets to nominate someone, who will undoubtedly protect Callie as well. He should have swallowed his pride."

Callie exhales, getting a hold of herself. "Velena could just challenge that Magister as well."

At that, Junivere tenses. "That... that could become a very dangerous precedent very quickly..."

And Callie understands deeper the danger she's accidentally unleashed, the instability of Solva's government she'd never seen before. All that was holding the Imperium in tact was a mutual respect not to simply kill each other - that it was better for everyone if there were more seats at the table than just one.

But she'd given them a real reason to fight.

Now, it was the survival of the fittest for the council. A sitting Magister had never dueled another Magister before, and with Markin's death, that now exists as an option. A precedent that could quickly unravel them all.

Hamada's warning about destabilizing norms solidifies within her. The pot was already shattered. There is no option to undo this standard now. The Magisters have gained access to a tool that can lead to their mutual destruction, or worse - one could decide to accept the danger and challenge all of them.

Velena had killed her predecessor in six seconds.

All Callie can wonder is if she's made a horrible mistake.

The Knight-Captain enters the courtyard once more, directing a few knights to remove the dead Magister. The blood stains the threastones underfoot, and Wellt looks at it with a stoic fortitude.

"A clear winner," she announces to the city, then turns to the victor. "Magister Hamada, who do you nominate to fill his seat?"

"My apprentice, Baris."

She nods. "She shall face challengers at the conclusion of your duel with Magister Velena."

Callie steps away to catch her breath. She leaves the balcony, entering the cool, stony cathedral, muttering a greeting to Gloriana as she goes. A brief word about who won, and then Callie is leaning over the railing that stares down into the sanctuary, considering her path out of this. Considering all the options at her table.

"Hal Devotia?" A voice calls from her side, and soon Civa is approaching to lay against the railing with her.

"Civa, what's wrong?"

The priestess looks concerned. "Salome has disappeared."

Callie restrains her reaction. So she's doing it, after all. "When?"

"I'm not sure, I haven't seen her since last night. She's been missing all morning."

She better hurry.

Callie places a hand on her shoulder. Gentle. Encouraging. "If you can, keep searching. I hope she's alright."

You won't find her.

Civa nods, departing just as quickly as she had come. Callie takes another moment to herself, then rejoins Calvin and Junivere, preparing herself for resolution to her anxieties - for ill or for better.

"They're just about to start," her fellow Devotia tells her, once again accepting her hand. "I've never seen Velena as angry as she looks now. It's terrifying."

Calvin takes her other hand. "Hamada can win. She has to."

Looking at the fury in Velena's eyes, the raw power of her form, Callie isn't sure. With the chime of a bell, peeling out across the city around them, they begin.

The fight would later be described as one of the most terrifying displays of magic in the history of the city.               It would be recorded in the annals of history, the famous duel that would surely never be matched ever again. Both would become legends for this very fight.

Two Magisters at the highest caliber, battling over the fate of a Devotia's excommunication. The central plaza of Solva. A crowd of a thousand people. One Magister dead upon the ground. A full moon leftover from the night before that has refused to yield to the daylight just yet.

Hamada strikes first this time. Now liberated from her heavy cloak, she wears a simple sleeveless shirt, which displays arms with winding golden tattoos. Callie has never seen anything like them before, but they wrap around her arms live vines of sunlight. She throws her hands forward and sends a barrage of threadbeams into the space between them, whipping through the air with a crackling chime.

Velena raises an arm and swings it into a circle, wrapping a beam perpendicular across the incoming attacks and tying the threads into a single strand, and then she freezes them. Hamada seems to have predicted this very response, pulling the ends of the rope to shatter it across its length, filling the arena with the cascading sound of broken glass. Just as with Markin, she sends those shards careening towards Velena.

Velena hardly flinches. A ward bursts into existence before her, appearing without any discernible somatics, manifesting through sheer force of will. The shards dissolve harmlessly into a floating sand that fades into glittering light, posing no threat to the younger Magister.

Each response is measured and automatic, as though neither Magister required any effort or time to strategize their counterattacks or defenses. It occurs to Callie that they must have practiced dueling long before this time, likely long before their first challenges to become Magisters. There were probably established traditions of dueling, expected ideal strategies and identified best responses.

They weren't just testing each other's power. They were testing their knowledge. It was a battle of wits and memory just as much as it was a contest of strength.

Callie can't fathom if Velena's next attack is an established move or not, but from her palms explodes a ball of fire whose diameter is larger than a person. She sends it rocketing towards Hamada, and with a quick slice of her hands she uses a ward to propel it away from her, sending it flying towards the crowd and out of bounds.

But Velena is prepared for that possibility. Her outstretched arm wraps a threadbeam around the fireball, halting its momentum and allowing her to rip its trajectory back towards Hamada, who has to dive to avoid its force. It explodes into the threadstone underneath their feet, screaming into the air with a thunderous roar.

Velena whips the impromptu flail around and around, swinging it at every place where Hamada finds her bearing. It shatters stones, breaks off an arm of the fountain, and nearly engulfs Hamada on multiple occasions.

Hamada waits for her moment, sending a flat burst of light slicing through the thread and sending the ball flying directly upwards. She seems ready to send a blast of energy forward, but Velena's faster, using another thread on the fireball to send it rocketing towards Hamada. It explodes into her, towering flames licking the air and raising the nearby temperature considerably.

It's only after the flames subside that Callie sees Hamada in a wide squatting posture, her arms outstretched on either side of her, a bubbling shield protecting the space around her.