by Brandon Mull
“Still with me?” Seth whispered as he walked along the corridor to the arena.
I’m here, Reggie conveyed.
Seth went through the coral archway at the end of the corridor. The clear day felt warmer than in Humburgh, and the air was placid. Seth entered the coliseum and headed for the ramp down to the underground barracks.
I feel something, Reggie expressed excitedly. Someone. A familiar energy.
“Good,” Seth said. “Let’s follow that feeling.”
This way, Reggie expressed.
Seth ignored the crowd and the enticing aromas wafting from food stands. The cheering of the fans faded into the background as he focused on perceiving and following Reggie. They soon reached a gate guarded by a minotaur with a black head and gray fur dappled with dark spots.
The minotaur barred his way with a poleax. “Where are you going?”
Want me to knock him flat? Reggie asked.
“Diplomacy,” Seth whispered.
“What was that?” the minotaur asked.
“I’m visiting some of the gladiators,” Seth said.
The minotaur snorted. “We know about you. Last time you poked around where you didn’t belong. Stick to the common areas.”
“That’s my plan,” Seth said.
The minotaur stepped aside. Staying focused on Reggie’s unseen presence, Seth followed him down a long, gently curving ramp, then to the bottom of some grimy stairs. He traversed cramped halls and descended more stairs to an unfamiliar passageway lined with doors.
We’re near, Reggie communicated.
“Lead on,” Seth said.
Before long, Seth sensed Reggie stop in front of a certain door. In here.
Seth knocked. He was about to knock again when the door opened.
“Seth?” Fenrick asked. “This is a surprise. How did you find me?” He looked freshly bathed, a towel hanging around his neck, his damp hair newly combed.
“I’m surprised too,” Seth said. “You need to hear the story behind it. Can I come in?”
“Only for a minute,” Fenrick said, stepping back. “Two of my trainees face off in the arena shortly. I’m guaranteed a win and a loss today.”
He feels familiar, Reggie enthused.
“He’s part of you,” Seth whispered. “You’re part of him.”
“What was that?” Fenrick asked, tossing his towel beside a laving basin and grabbing a pair of sandals.
“How would you like your memories back?” Seth asked.
“Sure, who wouldn’t?” Fenrick replied. “I know you would.”
“It’s a risk,” Seth said. “Some of it could be heavy.”
Fenrick regarded him more seriously. “I would want to remember.”
“What if I said I had found your memories and brought them here?”
I belong here? Reggie verified.
“I have to admit I wouldn’t believe you,” Fenrick said, strapping on his sandals. “Are they in your pocket?”
“I named your memories Reggie,” Seth said. “They got lost without you. I think it will make sense once you’re reunited.”
“Are you serious?” Fenrick asked.
“Reggie, you wanted me to tell you who you are,” Seth said. “You’re not dirt. You’re Fenrick. You’re an important part of him.”
Seth felt Reggie surge at Fenrick, who fell to his knees, waving his hands as if he were being attacked by bats. “What’s happening?” Fenrick cried.
I . . . can’t . . . become him, Reggie conveyed with frustration.
Seth could sense Reggie pressing against an unseen barrier. Apparently Fenrick could feel it as well.
“Stop pushing, Reggie,” Seth said. “Fenrick, I think you have to invite your memories in.”
“That force is my memories?” Fenrick asked. “What’s your game? I felt under attack.” He rose and retrieved a short sword, pointing it at Seth.
“Your memories exist separately from you right now,” Seth explained. “Like a phantom. I found them on my way here. I’m helping you the way I wish somebody would help me.”
“You really believe this?” Fenrick asked.
“It was confirmed by the Diviner,” Seth said.
“I don’t know who that is,” Fenrick said. “But, all right, phantom, if you really are my memories, I invite you to return.” He spread his arms wide.
Seth sensed Reggie dissolving into Fenrick.
Fenrick swayed, his sword clattering to the floor. He closed his eyes, fingers pressed against his temples, then dropped to one knee, head bowed. After a moment, he looked up at Seth.
“No,” he whispered, eyes darting. “I don’t believe it. All this time.”
“What?” Seth asked.
Fenrick closed his eyes tightly, sweat beading on his brow. “Please . . . allow me a moment. This isn’t happening. How could . . . ? Wait, of course.” He laughed nervously. “No. No, no, no. I can hardly . . . it’s like waking from a long sleep. From a coma. No, it’s like nothing else. Master, I mean Seth, I need a moment.”
Fenrick arose, then walked into a neighboring room, muttering to himself. Seth heard him pounding a mattress.
Seth waited, hoping Fenrick was okay.
“I can’t believe it,” Fenrick mumbled in astonishment, apparently to himself. “This is too much to absorb.” Seth was pretty sure Fenrick started weeping.
Seth remained respectfully quiet.
After splashing water on his face, Fenrick returned to the room and paused, a new energy about him. He clutched a wooden stake in one hand. “Fenrick was a false name.”
“Were you aware?” Seth asked.
“I had no idea,” he said. “My name is Merek. And I have lived for a long time.”
“You were in the Games?” Seth asked.
Merek grinned. “Not on the arena floor. Not ever. Any rumors of that sort were a sham. I came here like you did, Seth. I won one of Humbuggle’s Games in the Necropolis of Antilla, long ago.”
“You won the Wizenstone?” Seth asked.
“I broke a long-standing curse,” Merek said. “I won a chance to learn the true Game. I came here to claim that opportunity.”
“What is the true Game?” Seth asked.
“It’s the surest way to the Wizenstone,” Merek said. “I never found it. To obtain that knowledge, I had to unlock a door, and it cost me my memories. That loss sent me down an alternate path. The senior staff acted like I had elected out of active participation on the floor to become a trainer. Seth, I had no reason to believe otherwise. The more I learned about the Games, the better the story fit. I was Fenrick—a seasoned trainer who could not recall his past.”
“But you remember your past now?” Seth asked.
Merek nodded thoughtfully. “I have lived my life in many stages and accomplished deeds you could scarcely imagine. My identity has gone out of focus on other occasions—part of the price of immortality.”
“You’re immortal?” Seth asked.
“Almost,” Merek said. “My father was known as the Legender, and for centuries, I have served in times of need as one of the legendary Dragon Slayers.”
You kill dragons?” Seth asked.
“Do you know the story of the Legender?” Merek asked.
Seth shrugged. “Maybe I did once. I lost my memories.”
“Five legendary Dragon Slayers helped win the dragon war,” Merek said. “I am one of them.”
“Doesn’t every dragon sanctuary have a Dragon Slayer?” Seth asked.
“Anyone who has killed a dragon is a Dragon Slayer,” Merek said. “Every sanctuary has a resident Dragon Slayer to assist in emergencies. Apart from all the rest, there are five legendary Dragon Slayers, so-called because that group includes the Legender and his four children. I hoped to win the Wizenstone to better protect the world, and to keep it out of evil hands.”
“Just be careful picking it up,” Seth said. “I saw two guys try, and they got vaporized.”
“You’ve seen it?” Merek ask
ed.
“My sister used magic to send it away,” Seth said. “That choice broke the curse at Stormguard Castle.”
“And now you’re here,” Merek said.
“Hunting for my memories,” Seth said. “You’ve really slain dragons?”
Merek gave a little chuckle. “You have no idea. Unless . . . confession time—did you have any inkling about my true identity?”
“I still don’t,” Seth said. “I lost my memories by opening a door as well. Or so I’m told.”
“At Stormguard Castle,” Merek said. “Seth, among all of my memories, I also remember traveling with you as Reggie. I believe in your sincerity. Do you wish to join me in the quest for the Wizenstone?”
“If it might help me find my memories,” Seth said.
“At the very least, it should lead us to Humbuggle,” Merek said. “Wait here for a moment?”
“Sure.”
Merek went into the other room. Seth picked up the short sword the Dragon Slayer had dropped and practiced swinging it. The weight felt good in his hand.
“Keep that, if you like,” Merek said, returning to the room as he buckled a sword at his waist. The stake he had held was in a sheath on the other side of the belt. He had put on some leather armor. “Change of plans. I’m not watching fights today. Or ever again.”
“You can just walk away?” Seth asked.
“I never intended to be a trainer here,” Merek said. “I didn’t vow to be a combatant in these games. I could have walked away at any time. I just never realized I could.”
“Do all of those memories feel like an overload?” Seth asked.
“Yes!” Merek said. “It’s simply too much to absorb. And such a spectrum, triumph and failure, joy and misery. The more recent recollections are freshest. Including you convincing me to make dirt my physical vehicle. I remember Hermo, Virgil, and Calvin. And the latest rounds of training here at the coliseum. Together with my long history, it all fused into one. I’ll be trying to catch up to what I know as the days pass.”
“Where are we going?” Seth asked.
“Back where I intended to go when I first arrived,” Merek said. “To learn the most direct path to the Wizenstone. The secret Game, hidden among the others.”
“I can come?” Seth asked.
“You have done me a great service,” Merek said. “I mean to return the favor. You’re welcome to join me, shadow charmer.”
“Thanks, Merek.”
“For now, call me Fenrick.” He winked.
Seth followed Merek down halls and across common areas. They skirted the edge of a spacious room where gladiators skirmished with practice gear under the critical gazes of their trainers. Merek wore a stern expression, and nobody approached them.
Merek paused at the top of a stairway illuminated by an occasional white crystal. “I never descended these stairs because I did not believe I could. But now I remember experiences down there. I could have returned again at my leisure.”
He started down, and Seth followed. “A guard warned me to stay in the common areas this time,” Seth said.
“You have a right to come down here, or they would stop you,” Merek said. “Shed all doubts. Our mission is ahead of us.”
At the bottom of the stairs, the passage forward had an arched ceiling and was composed of small, ill-fitted stones, giving all surfaces but the floor a rough-hewn jaggedness. The air was chilly, and their footfalls seemed magnified. Seth engaged his senses but perceived no undead.
Merek stopped before a bare stretch of wall, hands on his hips. “I remember this place. Seth, this is not a real wall.”
Seth reached out and touched the rough stone surface. He knocked his knuckles against the cool, solid barrier. “Feels real to me.”
“This wall is there only if we believe it is there,” Merek said.
“No way,” Seth said.
“It is basically impossible for two people to pass it at once,” Merek said. “If you think it is there, the wall will be present for me as well. If I believe it is there, it will block your way and mine.”
“I’m trying not to believe in it,” Seth said.
“So am I,” Merek said.
“It’s still there,” Seth observed. “You’ve gotten past it before?”
“I did so alone,” Merek said. “I pressed against the rocks, disbelieving them, until they yielded. I know of no other way.”
“Should I leave?” Seth asked.
“Just retreat around the corner,” Merek said. “Count to a hundred. When you look again, if I’m gone, I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.”
“All right,” Seth said.
Seth walked several paces along the hall and went around the corner. He stood with his back to a wall and started counting. He kept the pace slow, whispering the numbers and resisting the urge to count by fives.
What would happen if he looked too early? What if Merek was partway through the wall, Seth wondered—could he think it into existence, trapping Merek or even killing him?
Seth took the nineties extra slow just in case. Then he listened, hearing nothing. A quick peek around the corner revealed an empty hall.
Seth walked to the supposedly fake wall and gave it a gentle kick. It seemed undeniably tangible.
Closing his eyes, Seth imagined the wall disappearing. Eyes still shut, he held out a hand, hoping to feel nothing. When his fingers came up against cool stone, he tried not to feel disappointed.
The wall wasn’t there. He was putting it there himself. He had to really believe it.
Unless Merek had tricked him.
Seth opened his eyes. The hall extended a long way. While Seth was around the corner, Merek could have easily snuck away. And left him standing here like a sucker, trying to walk through an absolutely real wall.
Seth listened carefully. He heard no footfalls. But that was no proof—Merek could be walking quietly. Should he try to catch up to him? Was Merek’s head start already too big?
Or had Merek told the truth? Should he stay here trying to push through a stone barrier?
Reaching out with both hands, Seth pressed against the wall. The texture felt perfectly real. Why would Merek lie? He had voluntarily invited Seth along.
Seth closed his eyes again and leaned into the effort, telling himself that the stone against his palms was imaginary. He found that as he relaxed and pushed less hard, the wall began to yield. Gradually, his hands began to sink into the stone, at first like it was clay. Then it began to feel less substantial, like putty, until it became almost like liquid.
As his hands sank deeper into what had previously behaved like solid rock, something clicked inside Seth, and he knew it was an illusion. No stone wall would soften into goo under pressure.
Suddenly the wall was gone. Seth walked forward into a broad hall. When he looked back, the wall was still gone.
“Seth,” Merek called, poking his head around a corner. “I stayed away in case my mind would interfere with your efforts.”
“Was the wall gone when you looked back?” Seth asked.
“Yes, but it returned when you began to make your attempt,” Merek said. “It’s still gone now.”
“How did you ever figure that out?” Seth asked.
“I had help from a friend,” Merek said. “A master illusionist. He lost his life at the end of this hall.”
“How?” Seth asked.
“I’ll show you,” Merek said.
They advanced until the passage ended at a circular room.
“How many doors do you see?” Merek asked.
Seth counted five doors along the curved wall. “Five.”
“All of them lead to death,” Merek said. “Make a circle with your thumb and forefinger.”
Seth mimicked his okay sign.
“Peer through the circle,” Merek suggested.
“What?” Seth exclaimed. “Now there are six doors.”
“Do you see which one is visible only through the circle?” Merek as
ked.
Seth broke the circle, then formed it again. “Yep.”
“That is the door we want,” Merek said. “My illusionist friend died when we opened the wrong one. As the poison took hold, he experimented with several ways the right door might be hidden and figured out the trick. The door he found stole my memories.”
Seth went to the door visible through the circle. “Then our answers are behind this door. Will it take our memories again?”
“I’m not sure,” Merek said. “Better let me try.”
“I have fewer memories to lose,” Seth said, quickly turning the doorknob and pushing the door open. He stepped into the room beyond, and Merek followed.
“Are you all right?” Merek asked.
“I’m still with you,” Seth said.
A bell sat atop an ornate altar on the far side of the lavish room. Hangings made of beads decorated the walls, and fur rugs covered the ground. The altar glowed red, providing light.
They approached the altar.
“Ring the bell?” Seth asked.
“If we ring it, who knows what it might trigger?” Merek said, eyes roving the room.
“What did you do last time?” Seth asked.
“I found myself here, confused, and I wandered away,” Merek said.
“Did you ring the bell?”
Merek glanced at the altar. “No.”
Seth picked up the bell and gave it a shake.
With a flash of light and a puff of smoke, a dwarf appeared atop the altar. His forked beard was an auburn color, streaked with gray. He smiled and tossed glitter into the air.
“Congratulations!” he crowed. “You have passed the trials entitling you to learn the true Game!”
“Are you Humbuggle?” Merek asked.
The dwarf pressed his palm to his face. “Oh, no. You wasted your only question. Back to the start for you! Always listen to the rules before speaking.”
Merek stared at the dwarf in frustration.
“I’m teasing,” the dwarf said. “Yes, I’m Humbuggle. And you are Merek. And Seth remembers me, if not much else.”
“I lost many years here,” Merek said.
“Everyone loses many years here!” Humbuggle said. “At least you are making progress. And you found a new friend. I love when my Games bring people together.”