The Tree of Ecrof

by Kobe Bryant

  “Are there any more complaints?” Castor asked.

  Rovi shrugged. He wasn’t complaining. He just wasn’t saying anything.

  “Okay,” Castor continued. “I’m going to lead off. We need a strong start.”

  “But we don’t even know what the race is,” Leo said.

  “It doesn’t matter what the race is, it’s a race,” Castor snapped. “So I’m leading off to give us a good head start. Then we’ll need a strong finish.” Rovi felt Castor’s eyes land on him. “So I guess, for lack of anyone else, that will have to be Rovi.”

  “Wow,” Rovi said. “I’m honored.”

  Castor arranged the rest of the team in order. “We’ll do our best with what we have.”

  “But,” Leo repeated, “we don’t even know what we’re doing.”

  Rovi glared at him. Didn’t he know better than to antagonize Castor?

  “Didn’t I just say it doesn’t matter?” Castor snapped.

  Cleopatra blew her whistle. “Now that your team order is settled, let’s go to the course.” She headed into the woods.

  The woods were totally different from the last time Rovi had run through them, on his first day at Ecrof. Right in the middle where the Realist’s path had been, there was now a large clearing about the size of a basketball court. It was surrounded by a wall of olive trees on either side. Down the middle was a set of obstacles, all of which, like the last obstacles Rovi had encountered in the woods, were made of trees and branches. There were four hurdles shaped from tree roots, tree stumps arranged in a zigzag pattern, and twenty loose logs lined up like a raft, all of which led up to a tall wooden ladder with the rungs three feet apart that the recruits would have to scale to reach a large tower that was made from an enormous tree. Once they reached the top of the tower, they would have to cross a long log, twenty feet up in the air, hanging from loose ropes, to another tower. When they reached the final tower, they’d have to slide down a thick vine, touch the ground, then climb back up the vine and repeat the course until they reached the beginning.

  “All right,” Cleopatra said. “Well, like any other relay, the purpose is for each of your teammates to complete the obstacle course from start to finish and then back again, and tag the next runner. The team whose members finish first is the winner. Simple.”

  “Too simple,” Vera said.

  “Well, looks can be deceiving,” Cleopatra said. “Confidence, too. Now, on your marks.”

  Vera and Castor took their places.

  “Get set. Go!”

  And they were off. Vera and Castor cleared the first hurdle. As they approached the second, it grew higher off the ground. They both stutter-stepped but made it across. The next hurdle grew even higher. This time they were ready and cleared it. The fourth hurdle, however, was impossibly high at first. It took both runners several turns to clear it.

  The Realists on Rovi’s team were cheering for Castor. The Dreamers on Vera’s team urged her on with slightly less enthusiasm.

  Now the runners had moved on to the tree stumps, jumping between them without hitting the ground. Each time they landed on a new one, the stump descended into the earth like it had been hit by a hammer. Castor fell and had to start over again. Vera was in the lead.

  Vera sprinted across the logs lined up next to each other on the grass. The logs rolled wildly beneath her feet as if they were covered in grease, causing her to lose ground. Castor caught up. Neck and neck, they climbed the treacherous ladder that led to the swinging beam twenty feet off the ground. The log swayed violently as they crossed.

  Without thinking, Rovi cupped his hand over his mouth. “Don’t look down, Vera,” he called.

  “I’m delaying ten seconds from your start for cheering for the wrong team,” Cleopatra said.

  “Keep quiet,” Hector snapped, shoving Rovi.

  Vera and Castor made it across the log. They descended the vine. They touched the ground, then began to climb back up.

  How badly did Rovi want to see Castor struggle on those vines, maybe lose his grip? That would be epic. What did he care if his team lost? But Castor didn’t fall; he and Vera finished at the same time and each tagged the next runner.

  Leo cost Rovi’s team some time, but Hector made up for it. Virgil’s gymnastic agility on the obstacles pulled them far into the lead. In fact, his performance was so impressive that even Castor slapped his hand when Virgil crossed the finish line a full two minutes before Nassos.

  Then it was Pretia’s turn. She had a two-minute head start on Cyril. And she began well. Rovi watched her closely. Her movements were technically sound. She cleared the hurdles easily, even as they got higher. But there was a lack of inspiration in the way she moved. Once more, it looked as if she wasn’t really trying. Halfway through the course, Cyril was gaining on her.

  Pretia had no trouble on the swinging log. She didn’t look panicked like Leo and Hector had, but she also didn’t look motivated.

  Rovi cupped his hands over his mouth. “Come on, Pretia,” he cried.

  “I thought Cleopatra warned you about cheering,” Castor said.

  “Um, not for our own team. Come on, Pretia,” he called again.

  Then Hector copied him. “Let’s go, Pretia. Looking good.”

  Without warning, Castor pulled Hector’s hands away from his mouth. “Don’t encourage her,” he snapped.

  “What?” Hector stared at him, amazed. “Don’t you want to win?”

  Castor pulled him slightly away from the group, but they were still within Rovi’s earshot. “Don’t encourage her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Castor hissed, “the worse Pretia is, the better it is for me. If it’s clear she doesn’t have grana, I get to rule.”

  Rovi didn’t hear the rest. He’d cupped his hands over his mouth and started cheering for Pretia so loudly, he thought his lungs would burst. He wasn’t going to do what Castor said, not now. Not ever. Not even if Castor became the King of Epoca. And that thought made Rovi’s blood run cold. He cheered even louder. But it didn’t do any good. When Pretia crossed the finish line, their team was now three minutes behind.

  Cleopatra watched Pretia’s finish with her hands on her hips. Pretia didn’t wait for the Trainer to speak. She simply trotted off to start the penalty laps for her lack of effort.

  Finally, it was Rovi’s turn. Sophia had made up a little time when she tagged Rovi. But Rovi still had to wait out his ten-second penalty before taking off. When he did, he heard Pretia cheering for him with all her might. He took the first hurdle. Then the next. Pretia’s voice was in his ear, urging him on. But then he heard another voice—Castor’s. It stopped Rovi dead in his tracks. What had he just promised himself? He would never do anything Castor asked. Never.

  “Rovi, what are you doing?” Pretia shouted. “Run!”

  But Rovi couldn’t run. His feet wouldn’t let him do it.

  “Get a move on,” Castor shouted. “Go!”

  Rovi walked. He took the hurdles easily, but with no speed. He skipped from tree stump to tree stump. He walked over the rolling logs, moseyed up the ladder, ambled down the swinging log, took his time sliding down the vine. By the time he was halfway through, Tassos had already finished. The other team had won.

  Rovi didn’t even bother to finish. He just walked back to the group. He knew exactly what the dark look on Cleopatra’s face meant.

  “What were you doing out there?” Castor yelled. “Did you hear us shouting for you?”

  “Nope,” Rovi said. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

  “You’re as crazy as your crazy father,” Castor snapped.

  Rovi didn’t even bother to reply. “Pretia,” he called as she passed on a penalty lap. “Wait up. I’m joining you.”

  17

  PRETIA

  THE LEAVES

  It was getting
harder and harder to restrain her grana. She could feel it almost bursting out of her. It was like her veins, muscles, tendons, even her blood, were filled with some kind of untamed energy, like there was a wild animal running around inside of her. One careless step and Pretia was certain her grana would reveal itself in some horrible way. She’d hurt someone, or worse. Her body wanted to compete. But Pretia wouldn’t let it. So she moved slower than ever. She worked harder than ever to hold it back. And if that meant losing even worse than usual, so be it. There was less than three months to go before she left Ecrof for the summer—less than three months to keep her secret.

  She was dreading Epic Elite trials, not just because she knew the pitying looks her fellow recruits would give her when it was her turn to perform the long jump. This was the first time she would demonstrate for the whole school how pathetic she was—or how pathetic she was pretending to be. And that would be humiliating enough if she didn’t have to worry about trying to hide her dangerous grana at the same time.

  The night before the trials, she could barely sleep. The vision of Hurell’s flame danced in front of her eyes. And when she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of the Hall of the Gods back in Castle Airim, except that in her dream the hall was dark and the only light came from the altar to the Fallen God—a bright blue light that filled the entire room. And from inside the flame, Pretia could hear her name. Hurell was calling her.

  At breakfast on the day of the trials, Pretia picked at her food while she listened to Rovi chattering manically between huge bites of sausage and lavender oats. She was exhausted from a poor night of sleep and her bad dreams.

  “I’m going to be furious if Castor gets Epic Elite,” he said. “The only way he’d get chosen is if the school made an exception.”

  “My uncle wouldn’t do that,” Pretia muttered. The way things were going, there was a good chance Castor was going to be king. He surely didn’t need to be Epic Elite as well.

  “Maybe he’ll make it a few years down the road,” Rovi said. “But not this year. I’m not even sure that any recruits are going to make it.”

  “What about you?” Pretia asked.

  Rovi put down his fork and looked at Pretia. “What about you?”

  His stare was making Pretia uncomfortable. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Everyone knows I’m the last person in Epoca who’s an elite anything.”

  Rovi frowned. “Actually, Pretia, no one knows that, because no one has ever seen you try.”

  “I am trying,” Pretia insisted. “You’re the one who never tries.”

  Rovi shrugged. “Whatever,” he said.

  The horn to end the meal blasted across the campus. The remaining Dreamers in the cafeteria rushed to clear their trays. On their way out the door, Rovi doubled back for some Power Snacks from a vending machine in the common room.

  “Do you ever stop eating?” Pretia asked.

  “Never when it’s free,” Rovi replied.

  The entire school had assembled down by the track on the main field. Kids were warming up, racing each other, practicing their jumps and leaps. Pretia and Rovi joined the rest of the recruits, gathered by the Tree of Ecrof. A huge pile of leaves had fallen at the base of the trunk.

  Virgil picked one up. It crumbled in his hands. “It’s like they’ve been burned.”

  “Maybe it’s cursed,” Adira said.

  Virgil’s eyes widened. “Maybe. There was a woman back in Mount Oly who could do curses.”

  “Curses aren’t real,” Castor said. “Everyone knows that.”

  “I don’t know that,” Virgil said. “Do you know that, Adira?”

  Adira looked from Virgil to Castor. “No, I don’t,” she said finally.

  Pretia looked down at the leaves. There definitely seemed to be something off about them. She’d traveled to the Winterlands and seen fallen leaves, lots and lots of them during the seasonal change. Those leaves had been colorful and still bore a resemblance to the way they’d looked when they’d been on their tree. These leaves were a different story. They were a sooty black and they’d curled inward so they looked more like insects than leaves.

  The pile was almost as tall as Pretia and surrounded the entire base of the tree.

  “The farmers in my region pile leaves and burn them,” Xenia said. “But before they do, we like to sneak in the fields and jump in them.”

  “Don’t,” Rovi said.

  “Don’t what?” Castor asked.

  “Don’t jump in the leaves.”

  “Why? Did you do something to them, Tree Killer?” Castor taunted.

  Pretia didn’t like the tone in her cousin’s voice.

  “No,” Rovi snapped.

  “So are you scared?” Castor asked.

  “No,” Rovi said. “I just wouldn’t jump in them. Why don’t you do it?”

  Castor shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll race you. See who can reach the leaves first.”

  “Forget it,” Rovi said. “I’m saving myself for the trials.”

  “Okay,” Castor said. “Who else? Or are you all scared of a pile of leaves?” He looked at the recruits one by one. His eyes passed over Pretia quickly.

  “Not me,” she said.

  “I want a challenger, not a princess.”

  Then his gaze stopped on Leo. “Leo, you’re it.”

  “Me?” Leo said in a small voice.

  “At least you’re better than Pretia,” Castor said.

  “Fine,” Leo said a bit uncertainly.

  “So, here’s the deal,” Castor ordered. “We line up to race. First one to the leaves gets the benefit of jumping into the fresh pile. Got it?”

  “Sure,” Leo replied.

  They lined up. Hector counted down. At “go,” they both took off. But Castor only went a few steps before he stopped. Leo, oblivious, raced on ahead. At the edge of the leaf pile, he shouted, “I won,” and then leaped as high as Pretia had ever seen him jump, and disappeared into the leaf pile.

  There was a moment of silence as the recruits looked from Castor to the leaf pile. Castor was doubled over with laughter. There was no movement from the leaves.

  “Is he okay?” Pretia asked.

  No one answered.

  “Where is he?” Pretia asked. Then, without waiting for help, she raced toward the leaves, digging frantically until she found Leo. It sounded like he was choking. She dragged him away from the tree.

  Leo lay flat on the ground. His jaw hung slack, his mouth open. He was gasping for air.

  “He must have gotten the wind knocked out of him,” Virgil said.

  “That was some jump,” Adira replied.

  “Leo,” Pretia said, “Leo.”

  Leo was still struggling to breathe.

  “Leo?” she repeated. Pretia looked over her shoulder and saw that two medics and Satis were making their way through the crowd of students to get to Leo’s side.

  Satis pulled Castor aside. “I didn’t do anything,” Pretia heard her cousin protest. “It was just a stupid joke.”

  Instantly, Nassos and the rest of Castor’s crew were at his side, defending their leader.

  “Castor,” Satis said. “Leo is badly hurt. Tell me what you did.”

  “Nothing,” Castor insisted. “I can’t help it if he knocked the wind out of himself jumping in a pile of leaves.” Then Castor looked over Satis’s shoulder to where Pretia and Rovi were standing. “Why don’t you ask the Tree Killer what he did to the tree to make it look like that?”

  “The who?” Satis asked.

  “The Tree Killer,” Castor replied, pointing at Rovi.

  “Castor Praxis, I suggest you refrain from talking about things you don’t understand and making up names that are both hurtful and nonsensical.”

  Castor met the Visualization Trainer’s eye. “His father was a Tree Killer.
”

  “Now, what makes you say that?”

  “Everyone knows,” Castor said.

  “No,” Satis said. “They don’t. There are some things that no one knows.”

  “Like what?” Castor asked.

  “Yeah, like what?” Rovi repeated.

  “Now is not the time,” Satis said.

  Pretia could feel Rovi tense at her side. But before Castor could get another word in, the familiar sound of Janos’s voice filled the air. “All right!” her uncle bellowed. “All right!”

  The group of students parted and Janos walked between them, a solemn look on his face. “From now on, please keep away from the Tree of Ecrof. As you can all see, it’s quite sick. A botanist from the mainland will be sailing over to examine it. The tree is fragile enough without you messing around with it.”

  “No one was messing with the tree,” Pretia whispered to Rovi.

  “Right,” Rovi muttered.

  “The leaves were just on the ground.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that tree,” Rovi said.

  Pretia gave him a look. “I hope you’re not taking this Tree Killer stuff seriously,” she said.

  “Of course not,” Rovi replied.

  “Rovi? Pretia? Are you joining us?”

  Pretia startled at the sound of her uncle’s voice. “I believe tryouts are over that way,” he said, pointing at the track.

  Pretia saw that the rest of the students were already heading for the track, where a long jump had been set up along one of the straightaways. “This is one of the more important Epic Elite trials because next year is the selection for the Junior Epic Games, and those already on the Epic Elite squad are guaranteed a spot. Now, we have room for two athletes to join Epic Elite this year,” Janos said when the students had gathered, “and two reserves who will join them next year. The selection will be simple. The jumpers with the best distances will be selected. That’s it.”

  Cleopatra Volis stood next to Janos with a clipboard and a whistle. “The format is easy. One jump. That’s it,” she said. “If you overstep the line on the takeoff board before you jump, it’s a foul. No do-overs. No second chances.”