We leave early in the morning, with me causing a delay as I familiarize myself again with a horse—Calais helps me and gives me a refresher course on how to ride the animal again. What follows is a breeze. Lyrica's muscle memory took over and soon, I am racing against him.
In total, the ride to the magic practice area only takes us thirty minutes by horse, despite it being far from the Duke's mansion. The area is circular—plain, flat field with very minimal vegetation. It's wide, though, with a diameter of over a kilometer.
"I hope this place is enough for you," Calais comments, offering his hand to help me climb down my horse.
I can do it alone, but I like how Calais treats me, so I lay my hand on his. "What element are we going to practice first?" I ask, smiling.
"How about water?" he suggests. "The land looks cracked and dried."
Calais is right. The land needs watering. Still, I tease him. "You want me to become a sprinkler?"
He pulls the two horses and ties them to one of the very few trees in the area. "We can both be the sprinklers," he responds.
When he turns to me, I ask, "How much water should I start with?"
I start to call upon my magic. With Lyrica's body, it is easy to form magic. Thankfully, while I was reading the magic books, I practiced it. From my hands, water sprouts—from a thin jet of water into, unexpectedly, a full-on water fountain.
I grimace and look ashamed at Calais. "Sorry, that's a mistake."
"You really are gifted in magic," he comments, his eyes in the puddle around my feet.
"How so?"
He points to my feet and says, "You mentioned earlier that you haven't been using your magic since that last war. But you don't seem to be rusty at using it."
"Well, I am! See, I just made a mess of it. I was only planning to let go a little."
"Now, you're just making me feel bad. I would really bet that you can create a river in this desert."
"I can try," I say, boasting this time.
He moves closer to me and flicks my forehead. "If only Jonathan had a bit of your confidence, he would do well in the army."
"If he has me as a sister, it will be pretty hard to gain confidence," I jest.
"He will hear about that," Calais says. "Now, should we start?"
I nod, and he moves a few meters away from me. I cock my head. "Ain't that too far?"
"If you're planning to try creating a river, this is too close."
"How are we going to start the battle, then?"
"Since that war is your first, how about hitting me with your water magic? No need to be creative about it."
"Hmm," I mutter.
How did Lyrica use it to end the last war? Use water to wipe and cleanse the entire area? But this time, I need to hit a person with water magic.
I shift my attention to Calais. He has his sword out. I frown. "Why are you defending yourself with a sword?" I ask.
"I am not planning to die by underestimating your magical output," he answers.
"Fine," I say.
So, I let water gush out from my hands. This time, no water fountain. I imagine it to be some kind of long stick, then I watch the glob of water turn into the form that I have in mind.
I smile, seeing how I am able to control it this time. But it's missing something. So, instead of plain water, I make it swirl, just like a tornado made of water.
I reach towards the water, but my hand just passes through. So, using it as a handheld weapon is not possible, huh?
Next, I point it towards Calais and make it fly as fast as I could.
Surprisingly, my "fast" is equal to the speed of sound. I didn't even notice when it hurtles towards him. It goes between his legs and cuts a bit of the fabric of his pants. We both look behind him and see that it hits the ground, makes a small sizzle, and digs through a couple of meters underneath.
I pale. Thankfully, my target is a bit way off. If not, this practice could have ended sooner than expected—but with Calais' death.
"Sorry," I squeak.
Calais turns to me and massages his dark blue hair. "I remember I mentioned something about starting something simple?"
I deactivate my magic and look at him. "I want to be a good practice match with you, but seems like I overdid it?"
"You did," he says, sighing. "Maybe instead of me defending, let's reverse the role? I'll attack first and you defend with your magic?" he suggests.
"Okay."
So, Calais put his sword on its scabbard and points at me. I knit my brows. How is he going to attack with a sheathe sword? Suddenly, I see water encapsulating the edge of the scabbard. I watch the water cover half of the sword. Abruptly, he fires it. A jet of water comes from it and hits close to my cheeks, cutting a bit of my hair.
"You're supposed to evade or defend from that," he remarks.
"But it's too close!" I complain. "Are you trying to take revenge on what I accidentally did to your breeches?!"
Instead of answering, he fires again. This time, I try to defend myself from it—by using a shield of water. Unfortunately, my preparation time is too short and Calais's jet of water is too fast that it only dulls the speed of his magic—causing me to take a step backward and splashing water on me.
I look at my clothes—I am wearing breeches, and tucked-in white long sleeves shirts like what men wore, but only with some flowery design. It is comfortable to move around, but not anymore as some of the fabric clings to my body.
"Hm, a shield of water is a pleasant addition to all your other talents," he comments.
He continues and fetters me with jets of water. As I evade some of his attacks, I strengthen my shield of water by making it more durable and flexible.
"Are your massages done?" I taunt when after an hour, no more of his jets could penetrate my shield.
He smiles at my attempt at boasting. He moves closer, and I deactivate my magic. A foot away, he stares at me from head to toe. I am surprised when he touches my cheeks and brushes a wet strand of hair stuck on my cheeks and neck.