The Student of the Black Marsh

“Gracia, I presume that you do not require my help here.”

As Libarius and Gracia sink into the mud, she draws a circle around them with her finger. In an instant, the mud around them dries out. Libarius simply pulls himself out of it, while Gracia fires small bolts of force to free herself. As they step back onto the grass, Libarius stares into the forest, at the tops of the trees, looking for their opponent. Though he hasn’t found them yet, he calls out to them.

“Student of the Black Marsh, show yourself and surrender. You have no hope of defeating us.”

The leaves rustle around them. As it stops, Libarius whips himself around. He catches the falling figure on his forearm, driving his hand into the bark of a tree as he begins to fall without Gracia to support him. He holds his head near his wrist as he keeps himself upright. He looks at what he’s caught.

Pinned to the tree is their adversary: a small girl Libarius assumes to be about ten, held in place just above her chest. The girl is scrawny, her brown skin covered in dirt. Her long, dark purple hair is in a tangled mess. She wears a light gray shirt and shorts, a darker gray cloak much too big for her falling over her. Her knees are scuffed up and her dark brown boots are damaged. Pinned alongside her is a tall wooden rod that she keeps a tight grip on with her small hands. She looks at Libarius with big purple eyes. His cold eyes look back at her like the abyss, and she begins to sob uncontrollably.

Neither Libarius nor Gracia know what to do. They simply let her keep crying. However, she never seems to tire out, and she just keeps on going. They can make out words between the girl’s sobs.

“…Devil… eat me…” Gracia steps closer to the two of them.

“L-Libarius, you should let her go.” Libarius turns his head to look at Gracia.

“She’s the enemy, Gracia.”

“Why do you have to be so intense? She’s a little girl.”

“You can’t measure the age of a mage with just your eyes, Gracia. She could very well be older than either of us.”

“Most mages wouldn’t make themselves into a child. And I don’t think an adult would cry like this!”

“The Black Marsh lives by deception and tricks, their disciple would do the same.”

The wailing hasn’t weakened, and whether she can even listen to them properly is unclear. However, neither does Libarius weaken his hold on her. Gracia begins to pull on Libarius’s arm, however, he does not budge. He keeps the girl in place, and he intends to do so until she stops crying and surrenders. The rod in her hand, however, begins to hum with power as she cries.

Libarius jumps back, letting the small girl fall onto the grass. He lands on his good leg and tentatively wraps his body in his coat. Gracia sees this and does the same. She hops away from the girl and puts up a simple barrier, one around her and one around Libarius.

Winds are whipped up with the girl at the center, even as she continues to cry. The wind cuts into the tree, gathering up the chips as shrapnel. It rips the grass from the earth and picks up the dirt. The wind continues to pick up, getting faster and faster as it forms a barrier around the girl. It reaches its maximum speed, the winds roaring. With each turn it launches out wood. The small scraps of bark slam into the barriers and fly off into the forest. At this point the barrier has become opaque with the dirt and grass blowing around within it. If they let it remain much longer, it wouldn’t be surprising for whole trees to begin to be ripped from the dirt. Libarius begins to talk, his voice calm even as he raises it above the winds.

“Gracia, can you hit the rod?”

“I can’t! Not while I’m keeping the barriers up!”

“Cast a spell, a single piercing shot, then lower my barrier.”

“I won’t!”

“It will be much wiser to have me brave a splinter of wood than allow the trees to break the barriers themselves. I am no weakling, Gracia. I will be defended.”

Gracia shoots off a spell. It blasts a small hole in her barrier and fizzles out right beyond it, the barrier sealing itself up right away. She slowly lowers the barrier around Libarius. She takes careful control of the process, creating an opening in front of him before anything else. With the small window formed, a sharp wood chip is launched into the barrier. It touches Libarius’s coat, but cannot cut the fabric. Libarius pays it no mind and fires off the spell. The spell bores a large hole in the barrier of wind. Both he and Gracia hear a loud snap of wood. Then the winds die down, revealing the crying little girl once more.

Gracia approaches her, wary of another spell. The broken rod in the girl’s hand is still giving off power. However, it’s fainter, faint enough to where Gracia does not realize it. As she draws near, the rod surges with power. Gracia flinches back. Libarius leaps forward.

He grabs the girl by the throat and pushes her into the tree behind her once more. The little girl coughs weakly and her sobs begin to stop. Libarius then grabs hold of the rod and funnels his own magic power into it, throwing the spell off balance.

“Take the rod from her, Gracia.”

The little girl begins to grab at Libarius’s gloved hand. Gracia, meanwhile, takes hold of the undamaged bottom of the rod and pulls it from the little girl’s grip. The girl, her other hand freed up, begins to struggle against Libarius even more, grabbing at him with both hands. The situation returns to where it began, Libarius pinning a little girl against a tree.