by Ilana Waters
I had to admit, while these rules complicated the game, they also made it more interesting. What I’d thought was just a show of brute force was actually a testament to brains, skill, and strategy. Much more my style.
“What if we don’t want to get stung by this new static?” asked a boy next to Liza.
“Then don’t travel more than five seconds, Rami,” she said.
“Do you all want to win the Chalice or not?” Oliver demanded. The team looked at one another. They all wanted to win the Chalice.
“What if I fly for more than five seconds in the hallway?” Rami asked.
“The spell’s only in effect while you’re in practice or Tournament,” Oliver explained. “Other than that, you can fly anywhere flying’s allowed.”
“And I don’t suppose our captain will be imposing this magic on himself?” I asked Oliver, arms folded across my chest.
“Of course he will.” Oliver straightened his lapels, the P emblem glinting in the sunlight. “Except that instead of getting staticked at five seconds, mine’s down to three.” A few jaws dropped. “A good captain must always stay one step ahead. Now, come on.” He motioned for the rest of the team to gather round him. “I’ll show you all how to bespell yourselves, and then we can really practice.”
Although reluctant to work a spell that might end up stinging them, the team begrudgingly agreed. At ten seconds, they were out anyway, which no one wanted.
Of course, I’m sure you were all too happy to demonstrate your little trick using me, I thought to Oliver as we got into practice positions. Am I to be upbraided every time I yawn in your presence?
Don’t flatter yourself, Alderman, Oliver thought back, gathering magic enough to practice with. I didn’t do it to get even with you. You’re the toughest person on the team, besides myself. I knew you could handle it. I needed the others to see it wasn’t a big deal, so that they’d be willing to give it a try.
Clever you, then. Begrudgingly acknowledging others’ strengths. Using them for the good of the team—even if he has a beef with the person in question. Despite what he said, I knew Oliver wasn’t crazy about me. Still, he put the team first. It was annoyingly admirable. Although I disliked Oliver’s overbearing nature as much as anyone, I had to admit he was a good strategist—and a good captain. If we were in a war, my father would probably approve of him.
And Oliver’s trick worked a treat. Throughout practice, the team was reacting faster and recovering quicker. Of course, there were a few falls and some choice words for Oliver the first time people got stung. But witches learn fast, and after an hour, almost no one hovered for more than four seconds. We practiced so long and hard that the chilly air was forgotten. By the time practice was over, we were out of breath and covered in perspiration.
I felt we’d really accomplished something. We’d gotten farther along during this session than in any previous one. We were truly coming together as a team. At that moment, I was actually rather proud to be an air mage.
“You know, I’m beginning to think there’s a chance we might win this thing.” Liza grinned at Rami as we headed to the showers.
“From your lips to the gods’ ears, as my father says.” Rami nodded and smiled back.
“Of course we can win.” Oliver tried vainly to brush dirt off his prefect badge. Then, he wiped his brow, smearing more dirt on his face. “But it doesn’t pay to get cocky. We still have a long way to go.”
I was pretty dusty myself, having taken more than one fall. But I didn’t mind. If these were the worst battle scars I received on behalf of Tournament, I’d consider myself lucky.
“Got a little dirty, did we, Alderman?” a familiar voice called. I looked up to see Victor and the rest of the fire team heading to the showers as well. Naturally, he didn’t have a spot on him. Dirk and Mason looked to be in good shape, too. Couldn’t have been practicing that hard, I thought to myself.
“Better get used to it,” he continued, smiling broadly. “Air team’ll get trounced out in the first play-off, mark my words. And once a mage like you graduates Equin—or gets expelled, more likely—sweeping up trash is the only thing you’ll be good for. But not at the Wright house. My family wouldn’t even pay you to clean our loo.” Dirk and Mason laughed loudly.
“Oh, just shove it, Victor,” Colleen snapped. She looked exhausted, and as banged up as the rest of the fire and air team. Pen and Suyin, trudging beside her, exchanged worried glances.
I kept walking, willing myself not to look at Victor. “I wouldn’t want to be within ten feet of anything that touched your bare, ugly ass, Wright,” I called back.
I thought Victor would hit me back with another retort. Or maybe just hit me. Instead, I saw him grinning evilly out of the corner of my eye. “You’d have to beef up that CV to work for us, Alderman. Even though I’m sure you’ve got loads of experience as a domestic. Who else would do all the sweeping and scrubbing in your house? I mean, what with your mum running off to wherever—with whomever.” More laughter from Dirk and Mason.
My face grew hot with rage, and angry magic crackled around my hands. Although Victor’s comments were sexist in general, his specific ones about Abigail infuriated me. And that fury was like a reflex: something uncontrollable, unstoppable. I was already pushing up the sleeves of my duster, stomping toward him.
“Or maybe you’ll get lucky,” Victor called. “You could always end up a murdering machine, like your dad. Rotten to the core, leaving a trail of dead bodies wherever you go.”
“And I know just who I’ll start with.” The low growl in my throat was a surprise, even to me. I reached out my magic-laden hands toward Victor, and he started in for me as well. Suddenly, we were surrounded by a swarm of students, led by Oliver and Colleen. Oliver and a few larger members of the air team were holding back my arms. Dirk, Mason, and the rest of the fire team were doing the same with Victor. But it was Colleen who got between us.
“Ignore him, Josh,” she said, her cheek close to mine. “Just ignore him.”
My face was so tense with rage, it felt like a mask. I very nearly ignored her. But I stopped myself. I didn’t want Colleen to see this side of me. The vengeful, animal side. And I really, really don’t want her to see me in a fight with Victor if I lose.
“I’ll take care of this,” she breathed. “Victor.” She grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him to the locker room doors. “Do you ever think about whether anyone wants to hear you talk before opening your mouth?” I heard Victor’s laugh echoing in the hallway as they disappeared inside.
Eventually, Oliver and the rest released me. But I wasn’t setting foot in the locker room while Victor was there. The air team quietly slunk away. No one said anything, or even made eye contact with me. I tore off my duster, balled it up, and threw it on the ground. Then I kicked it, using air magic to send it hurtling a few yards away. I considered setting it on fire, then remembered I didn’t have another coat. The feeling of pride and accomplishment I’d had a few minutes ago vanished. I tried to catch my breath, panting and staring crossly as the sun set in the late afternoon sky.
Who am I kidding? It doesn’t matter how well we did in this practice—in any practice. Or what the outcome of the first playoff is, or the second, or even Tournament itself. When it was all over, I would just go back to what I was before. What I had always been. The abominable freak.
I suddenly realized why I cared so little about things like sports. Things that seemed to matter so much to the other students. It was because the lessons learned here reflected their role in society. They had somewhere to go, someone to be. Expectations to meet. The only expectations others had for me were terrible. It was assumed I’d turn out to be a nobody—or worse, a psychopath, destined only for the evening news. And maybe, in a twisted way, I was a little jealous of that. They had a place in a world, and a high-ranking one at that.
The only thing waiting for me when I stepped off Equinox’s threshold was a blood
stained march into oblivion.
Chapter 15
“Come on, Pen!” Miles screamed. “Kill ’em! Kill ’em!”
“Quiet, you fool,” I said. “The teams haven’t taken the field yet.”
“I’m yelling in case she can hear me from inside,” Miles protested, his breath visible in the late November air.
“I think they heard you from inside Switzerland.” I winced and covered my ear.
It was even colder than it had been during practices, but you’d hardly know it from the excitement of the crowd. Students, professors, and parents numbered in the hundreds, sitting in the bleachers, waiting for the first Tournament play-off to begin. Everyone was buzzing and chattering, eagerly anticipating the arrival of teams earth and fire.
Play-off teams were always decided by drawing lots. It was the same to see which team received priority, i.e., worked the first spell. In this case, that was earth. As I ran a warming spell over my icy fingers, I didn’t quite know how I felt about air not being picked first. Am I relieved? Disappointed? Perhaps a little of both. Relieved because I wouldn’t have to go up against Colleen, since air wouldn’t be playing fire. Disappointed because I would rather have gotten losing out of the way as quickly as possible.
At least here, outside, I could wear my shades. It helped keep the glare of the late-day sun out of my eyes. I tried to share in the enthusiasm, if only for the sake of Colleen and my friends in House of Fire. I halfheartedly waved a red and orange flag, which many others had as well. Across the way sat House of Earth’s section, their brown and green flags flying blithely. Some students even had their faces painted with the colors of the house they were cheering for.
I guess I could’ve sat in the House of Air section. But I didn’t really know anyone in the house that well, besides my teammates. And I’m sure I fancied sitting with Oliver about as much as he fancied sitting with me. Greggers, who was the referee, bustled about, shouting orders to the students helping her clean up the field. The marching band played pounding, incessant music. I looked up at the box in the center of the bleachers opposite, reserved for the headmaster. Soon, Specs would take his place there, the teams would come onto the field, and the game would begin.
“Pssst. Look.” Miles nudged me and jutted his chin at a severe-looking middle-aged couple sitting in House of Fire. “Those are Victor’s parents,” he said. I pulled my sunglasses down over my nose to get a better look. The elder Mr. Wright seemed to be frowning at his cell phone, jabbing at the keypad with violent disapproval.
“Wright’s dad is always like that,” Miles said, as if reading my mind. “Never puts that thing down.”
“Is he even planning on paying attention to his son’s game?”
Miles shrugged and tightened his woolen scarf around his neck. “I think he’s some high-and-mighty hedge fund manager. You know those types. Always have business on the brain. Afraid the moment they step away from the office, some upstart’ll knock ’em off their perch.”
“Probably how Victor thinks of me.” I pushed my sunglasses onto my nose and leaned back in my seat. Like father, like son.
Titus wasn’t here, of course. I didn’t really expect him to come. But I’d been surprised when Colleen said her own father and brother couldn’t make it.
“They’re checking on some land holdings or something,” Colleen had explained. “But if we win, they promised to come see me at Tournament,” she said brightly.
Truth be told, I wasn’t looking forward to meeting Colleen’s family. I mean, I did want to, but what if they ended up being my in-laws one day? Any sane person would have trepidation about meeting his necromancer future father-in-law. And a possibly overprotective big brother with an unhealthy interest in explosives.
At least Colleen and I are still together. That knowledge was the only thing keeping me warm on this chilly autumn day. Well, that and a warming spell. I couldn’t help but think, If only Colleen and I could get away from everything, get away from this stupid school. All alone, just she and I.
But that wasn’t going to happen. The term was almost over, our season-long gym-cleaning “punishment” at an end. Soon, almost everyone but me would go home for Solstice break. I’d see even less of Colleen in the coming months. And after the school year ended, then what? She’d go back home until the fall, and I’d . . . I didn’t even know where I’d go. Or if I’d ever be back to Equinox.
“Mr. Alderman.” I heard Professor Burgess snap at me, and jumped a little in my seat. “Kindly remove your sunglasses before the start of the game.”
“But Professor, I thought you said I couldn’t wear them indoors,” I protested. I’d forgotten that, as housemaster, he’d be here in the water section.
“They are not appropriate Equinox attire, no matter where they’re worn.” His puffy, heavily lidded eyes glared down at me.
I folded my arms across my chest. “You’re just making these rules up as you go along, aren’t you?” Miles’s jaw dropped.
“Are you undermining me?” Burgess whispered in disbelief.
“I think your seesaw approach to discipline is rather undermining itself,” I said.
“He didn’t mean it, Professor Burgess,” Miles said quickly, sending a sharp pain spell to my ankle. I winced and frowned at him. “It’s . . . the Tournament air. It’s gotten to him.” His chin bobbed up and down in a nod. “Overexcitement, you know.”
Burgess continued glaring at me and shaking his head. “I just don’t understand it, Alderman. You’re at Equinox, where the finest Wiccan minds gather to cement their destinies. If you play your cards right, you could have a perfectly secure, respectable future.”
“How dare you threaten me,” I retorted. Miles tried to hide a snort, and failed.
Burgess went positively pale with rage. “That’s it,” he hissed. “You are taking off those ridiculous sunglasses and coming with—”
“Oh, Burgess, let it go,” a deep, weary voice called from several rows over. Miles and I looked up to see Specs headed toward his box. He turned his head only far enough to address Burgess.
“But . . . but sir,” Burgess sputtered, “he’s not following the rules!” Specs motioned for Burgess to walk with him, and Burgess acquiesced, finally admitting defeat.
“Let’s just be grateful he’s not burning down the school,” I heard Specs sigh as they left. Burgess turned back to me, lips pursed, as if he wanted to say something. But just then, the teams for House of Fire and House of Earth took the field.
Greggers shooed the students who’d been helping her back to their respective sections, then sat on the sidelines. She polished her whistle with the hem of her shirt. The marching band started up even louder. There was the blare of trumpets, the rat-tat-tat of drums. The twelve players from each team streamed onto the grass, boots kicking up dust, hands clasped behind them in fingerless leather gloves. Their jerseys—orange and red for fire, brown and green for earth—were emblazoned with each player’s number on the back. Miles and everyone else leaped to their feet, screaming, shouting, clapping, and waving flags. Colleen was right in front. The ribbons in her hair were her house’s colors. I jumped up and crossed both arms back and forth above my head, hoping she’d see. She did, and glamoured herself blowing a kiss, invisible to everyone else. A special message just for me.
I smiled and was about to fake catching it when I saw who was just behind her. It was Victor, grinning maliciously in my direction. My smile faded, and I looked away. Victor was followed by Dirk, Mason, Nadine, Geoffrey, Suyin, and a few other students I’d seen around school. Miles spotted Pen, then put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and split the air with a whistle. Parveen Kumar, House of Earth’s prefect, led her team around until both sides were facing one another in uniform. It was like two armies gearing up for battle. Except here, the only weapons were minds and magic.
The band music closed to a rousing finish. Specs stood up in his box, raised his hands, then lowered them to sil
ence the crowd. Everyone quieted down and sat back in their seats. Miles put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. The center of the field lit up with an enormous hourglass that would keep the time, much like the one in our fencing bouts. Only instead of ninety seconds, here there would be forty-five minutes of sheer mystical mayhem.
“House of Fire and House of Earth will now achieve formation,” Specs called. No megaphone was necessary; magic made his voice carry as far as it needed to. The teams arranged themselves in three defensive lines. There were four players to a line, each witch facing another from the opposite team. When the game started, the first lines would battle each other. When one witch went down and was called out, one from the team’s second defensive line would move forward, and so on, until there were no more left. The team with the most players when time was called would be the winner. As in fencing, one team had priority, i.e., would throw the first spell. Unlike fencing, this was determined by lots, like most of Tournament.
“House of Fire has priority,” Specs said. “As always, may the best team win.” The crowd was hushed as they awaited his next words. “Let the first play-off for this year’s Tournament officially . . . BEGIN!” By the time he sat back down, the crowd was already going wild.
One of the best—and most confusing—things I’d learned about Tournament was that multiple plays between teams could occur simultaneously. Of course, if this were an ordinary fight, one could simply glamour oneself invisible. But being a Tournament play-off, all your opponents were witches, who could easily do the same. It didn’t make the sport very exciting for spectators, who then couldn’t see any of the plays. Which was why invisibility and don’t-look spells were against the rules.
But, as you know by now, dear reader, that didn’t mean other forms of magic were off-limits. My attention was on Colleen. She aggressively advanced against Parveen, rising in the air just long enough to throw a few balls of glamoured fire. Parveen flipped in the air to avoid them, but landed on her feet. She made a clutching motion, with her hands held waist-high. Columns of earth began to swirl toward Colleen, much like Oliver’s tornadoes had spun toward me during practice. There was only so far back Colleen could go to avoid them without stepping off the field of play, which would be an out. Instead, I saw her take a deep breath, spread her arms wide, and use air magic to blast through Parveen’s spires. The force and surprise of it knocked Parveen off her feet. This time, she stayed down.