The Tree of Ecrof

by Kobe Bryant

  Vera’s hand shot in the air. “In the Epic Games, you get three attempts.”

  “This isn’t the Epic Games,” Janos said. “The Epic Games are a product of years of training. What we are testing here is your focus and your potential. Not your skill.” Vera looked chastised.

  “Okay,” Cleopatra said. “We’ll be jumping oldest to youngest. So, seventh years, line up first.”

  “Ugh,” Vera groaned. “I might as well have not even warmed up. I’m going to visualize my jump to sharpen my focus. Pretia, come get me when the second years are jumping.” And with that, she stormed off to the opposite side of the field, where she flopped down on her stomach and seemed to be concentrating furiously.

  The seventh years started jumping. “Well, this is going to be boring,” Rovi muttered to Pretia. She had to agree. It was boring watching something that she had no part in. Without using grana, there was no way she’d be Epic Elite.

  Pretia sat with her fellow recruits as they critiqued each of the jumps of the seventh years. She knew nothing about long jump. In fact, when Janos had announced the trial event for Epic Elite, she’d done everything in her power not to even think about anything to do with jumping. So she had zero idea what a good jump was or how to execute one.

  From what the kids around her were saying, a seventh-year boy named Marcus jumped extraordinarily well. “But what’s the point?” Nassos said to Castor. “He’ll only be Epic Elite for a few months before he leaves Ecrof.”

  No one in the sixth year came close to Marcus’s score. A fifth-year girl named Hera executed well, her feet bouncing down the track as if they had springs in them, each step sending her higher and higher, until she took off for her jump, which came in short of the current leader by half an inch. Then, to everyone’s surprise, a fourth-year girl named Leda from the Rhodan Islands passed Marcus by an extraordinary two inches, using her arms like wings to literally fly through the air. Then another fourth year, Daria, beat Leda, putting her in first place.

  None of the third years posted any scores of note. When the second years lined up to jump, Pretia scurried over to tell Vera. She found Vera on her feet with her eyes closed. She was clearly lost in some vision of jumping. She was swinging her arms in a steady rhythm as if she were approaching the board. Then she nodded and bent her knees slightly. The movement of her arms changed, as if she were now flying through the air, trying to pull herself as far as possible from her takeoff.

  “Vera,” Pretia said, anxious about breaking into her concentration.

  Vera’s eyes snapped open. She was looking at Pretia, but it didn’t seem that she was actually seeing her.

  “Vera,” Pretia said again. But Vera was marching off toward the track. She was on a mission.

  When it was Rovi’s turn, he jumped well but fell just short of fourth place overall. Then it was Vera’s chance.

  She stood at the starting line. She tossed her head once. Then she took off. She glided down the track, her arms smooth, her feet graceful. She hit the takeoff board perfectly. Then she flew. She really flew. Her arms and legs cut through the air with none of the violent churning the other students had used to jump as far as they could. Her grana didn’t have any wild manifestations. Her jump was perfect. She landed and the entire Dreamer camp rose to their feet, cheering wildly. Vera was in the lead. With a defiant glance at Janos, she stood up and jogged back to the first years.

  There were only three runners left.

  Castor slipped on the running board and fouled out.

  Zoe barely jumped four feet.

  Then it was Pretia’s turn.

  She hadn’t warmed up. She had barely been watching. She didn’t want any of the previous jumpers’ techniques to work its way into her subconscious. She could feel her grana pumping in her veins. It wanted to be turned loose. Pretia moved as slowly as possible. She couldn’t be careless.

  She stepped up to the starting line. How badly did she want to explode down the track? How badly did she want to sprint, then pound the takeoff board, then soar as far as possible? Her body wanted her to fly like Vera. So maybe—

  She closed her eyes. And instead of seeing the track in front of her, she saw the cliff back behind the Royal Woods at Castle Airim, and Davos flying over the edge after she’d pushed him—after her cursed grana had made her push him. “No,” Pretia told herself. “Go slow.”

  Cleopatra clapped her hands. Pretia took off down the track at a leisurely jog. She couldn’t allow herself to try. She couldn’t allow her shadow self to emerge. She couldn’t reveal to the school that she was cursed. Halfway toward the takeoff board, she picked up the pace. Well—she didn’t, her legs did. They were moving of their own accord. And then it happened. Before she knew it, she could feel herself pulling away from herself. She knew she was going to watch herself hit the takeoff board and soar into the air. She didn’t want to know what would happen after.

  It happened in an instant. One moment Pretia was jogging down the track, watching herself sprint toward the board. The next, she’d caught up to herself at the very moment she was supposed to lift off from the board. She hit her split self with a terrible impact, as if she’d crashed into a wall. And then, instead of flying forward as the other jumpers had, Pretia rose up. Up, up, up, and up. She jumped well over ten feet into the air. She was towering over the students on the ground. For a moment, time stopped, or it seemed to stop as she hovered, marveling at how high she was.

  And then it was over and with a painful thud, she crashed back onto the track.

  There was a moment of silence. Then a collective gasp rose from all the students. “Whoa,” Pretia heard Cassandra say. “That was intense.”

  She glanced over at her House Captain, who was staring at her with a curious look on her face.

  “Yeah, totally intense,” another Dreamer echoed. “I’ve never seen anyone jump that high.”

  “Especially someone without grana,” Castor snapped. “I mean, someone with grana would have done the correct jump, right? Right?” Suddenly Castor didn’t sound too sure.

  “Yeah, someone without grana couldn’t have done that,” Cassandra said. “No way.”

  “Too bad it’s not the high jump,” Adira said.

  “If it were, she would have won,” Rovi said.

  Pretia could feel Rovi looking at her with curiosity. She could almost hear the question hanging on his lips: Do you really not have grana? She wouldn’t tell him. No way.

  She staggered to her feet. What had just happened? What had her grana made her do? She’d controlled it, but just barely. She looked around at the rest of the students. “It was a mistake,” Pretia said. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “But it was awesome,” Rovi said.

  “Is everyone okay?” she asked him.

  “Except for Castor’s ego,” Rovi said.

  “You’re sure?” Pretia whispered. “No one got hurt or anything?”

  “Why would someone have been hurt?” Rovi said.

  Pretia sighed with relief. She’d used her grana, but she’d hurt only herself.

  “How did you do that?” Rovi asked. “Do you—”

  Here it was. “I slipped,” Pretia said. “I slipped as I approached the board. Weird timing, I guess.”

  Cleopatra placed a hand on Pretia’s shoulder. “Interesting, Pretia. Very interesting. That’s one of the best attempts at anything I’ve seen you do. Too bad it was the wrong thing.”

  “It was nothing,” Pretia grumbled. “A total accident. There’s no way I could do it again.”

  “Whatever you say,” Cleopatra replied. Then she clapped her hands to get the kids’ attention. “All right. Our top four finishers are Vera Renovo, Daria Osso, Leda Signa, and Marcus Velo.”

  Thunderous applause rocked the track as the winners rose to their feet. Vera looked so proud that it seemed her chest was going to explode.r />
  Janos stood with Cleopatra to address the group. “Now joining the Epic Elites,” he announced, “at a secret camp on the eastern side of Cora will be Leda and Marcus. Vera and Daria will stay as reserves and move up to Epic Elite next year.”

  “WHAT?” Vera’s voice tore through the assembled students. “I won,” she cried. “I won. I’m going to join them.”

  “Not this year, I’m afraid,” Janos said. “You’ll have to wait until next year.”

  “But I came in first,” Vera said. “Those were the rules. The top two join the Epic Elite. I’m joining the Epic Elite.” She was screaming so loudly, her words echoed off the marble seats of the Panathletic Stadium.

  “I’m sorry,” Janos said. “But that’s how it will be.”

  Vera remained on her feet. She put her hands on her hips. “It’s because I’m a Replacement, right?”

  “No,” Janos said.

  “So why can’t I go?” Vera sounded close to tears.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you or to any student,” Janos said, narrowing his eyes at her. Pretia had never seen such a stormy look on her uncle’s face.

  “I want to join my brother,” Vera insisted. “I want to see him.”

  “Your temper is the problem,” Janos said. “It’s holding you back. It’s why you can’t be Epic Elite this year.”

  “I won,” Vera wailed. “This isn’t fair.”

  “Even with all the work we put into rules and regulations, sports are often not fair. Sometimes outcomes are dependent on a judgment call. And not everything will go your way. I’m sorry, Vera. This is my decision. It’s your job to learn from it, and when you do, you will have the maturity to be Epic Elite like your brother.”

  Vera looked like she was going to cry. But instead, she sprinted away into the Decision Woods as fast as her legs would go.

  “Now, Leda and Marcus,” Janos said, “go back to your rooms and get your gear. You’ll be headed to the far side of the island immediately. The rest of you, get ready for whatever is next on your schedules.”

  The students got to their feet. Pretia’s entire left leg was sore from where she had crashed into the ground from her towering jump.

  As they left the field, Rovi took her arm. “That was some jump,” he said. “How did you do that?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Pretia said. “It was an accident.”

  “It was amazing,” Rovi said. “I didn’t know you—or anyone—could jump so high.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” Pretia said. “I’m never doing it again.”

  Rovi grabbed her by the wrist. “Why not?” he said.

  She shook him off. She’d already said enough.

  18

  ROVI

  THE VISIT

  There are some things that no one knows. Satis’s words rang in Rovi’s head long after Epic Elite trials had ended. They kept him up at night. He couldn’t stop wondering what the Visualization Trainer meant. Did he know something about Rovi’s dad that he wasn’t telling? Was there more to the story than he was letting on?

  For two nights, Rovi barely slept, taunted by Satis’s words. He knew he needed to find out more.

  It didn’t take long for Rovi to learn in which of the Trainers Towers Satis lived. He put his old scouting skills to work, lurking outside the building, watching the Trainers come and go like he was keeping tabs on a vendor at the Alexandrine Plaza from whom he wanted to steal.

  Before dawn broke on the second morning after the trials, Rovi was dressed. He grabbed a Choco Water and a couple of snacks from the vending machine in the common room, then left the Temple of Dreams before anyone else was awake. It was a cool, damp morning. Soon enough, the sun would rise and dry the dew.

  Aside from Janos, Satis was the only teacher at Ecrof who had ever mentioned Rovi’s father to him directly, and Rovi was burning with questions he wanted to ask. He didn’t want to wait until class, when Satis might be less willing to speak freely.

  Rovi’s Grana Gleams were already soaked through when he arrived at the Trainers Towers. He stood staring up at the buildings. For a moment he thought he saw something glowing or burning on the top floor of the eastern tower where Janos had his quarters. Rovi shaded his eyes and squinted. Then he realized—the sun was rising. Since the temples were originally built by the gods’ own grana, it seemed that Metus, whose temple this had been, had found a way to harness the first light. Rovi stared at the warm glow for a few more minutes.

  Of course Janos would have picked the best rooms with the most magical light for himself.

  Thankfully, Satis lived in the western tower, which meant less chance of encountering Janos. Still, Rovi needed to avoid being seen by any other Trainers, since the towers were strictly off-limits to students.

  Just as his grana had helped him as a Star Stealer, allowing him to do things like dash through the market without being caught and figure out how to escape notice, now it led him into the western tower, past the chefs who were up early preparing breakfast, to a set of stairs at the back of the temple. It was his grana that told him to hide behind a column when one of the chefs climbed the stairs carrying a tray.

  Satis’s room was off a mezzanine on the fourth floor of the temple. Rovi stopped in front of the door. Now he was uncertain. Would the Visualization Trainer be angry if he woke him up? Would he tell him to go home? He raised his hand to knock at the heavy wooden door. But then he hesitated. He was sneaking around like a Star Stealer, not a recruit. He should go back to the Temple of Dreams and wait until after class to talk to Satis.

  But before he could turn back, the door swung open.

  “Rovi,” Satis said. “I was waiting for you.”

  “You knew I was coming?” Rovi asked.

  “Well,” Satis said with a wink, “I happened to see you cross the campus.” He held the door wide so Rovi could enter.

  His quarters were small and cozy—a simple wooden bed with linen sheets, a table for two, two armchairs, and a set of bookshelves so crammed with books that Rovi worried they would collapse. “Make yourself at home,” Satis said, pointing at the chairs. Then he moved to the small kitchen and started slicing bread. “So, Rovi, what can I do for you?”

  Rovi glanced around the room. Suddenly he felt like a baby, coming to a teacher for help because another student had called him names. But it was too late to change his mind. “You heard what Castor said at the trials, right?”

  Satis sighed. “Castor says a lot of things. But I have a feeling I know what you mean.”

  “He called me Tree Killer,” Rovi said.

  Satis shook his head sadly. “The things kids say.”

  “You don’t think it’s my fault, do you?” Rovi asked.

  Now Satis put down the knife, turned, and gave Rovi a look that was both irritated and concerned. “Think what is your fault?” he said.

  Rovi lowered his voice to a whisper. “The rot affecting the Tree of Ecrof. Do you think that is my fault?”

  Satis shook his head in disbelief. “Well, Rovi,” he said as if he were lecturing a very young child, “are you doing anything to the tree?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so or you’re not?”

  “I’m not,” Rovi said.

  Satis finished filling the breadbasket and brought it to the table. “Of course I don’t think it’s your fault,” he said. “Why would it be your fault that the Tree of Ecrof is sick?”

  Rovi took a piece of bread but didn’t take a bite. He flipped it over once, twice, three times, as if it might give him the courage to continue.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Satis said kindly.

  Rovi took a deep breath. “I think my father really did try to kill the Tree of Ecrof.” It was one thing to say the words in his head. But it was a whole other challenge to
utter them aloud.

  Satis placed two pots of honey and two different jams, as well as a crock of butter, on the table. “That’s what people say. Now eat.”

  Rovi looked at him. Perhaps the Visualization Trainer hadn’t understood. The secret that Rovi had never uttered to another soul flew out of his mouth before he knew it. “I know that’s what they say. But I actually heard him talking about it.”

  Satis took the bread from Rovi’s hand, slathered it with butter and honey, then motioned for him to eat and continue.

  “It started the night after he got out of the TheraCenter,” Rovi said between mouthfuls. “After the disaster with the Self-Splitter. He came back to the room and he was totally changed. That night he started talking about killing the tree. I thought he was talking in his sleep at first. In fact, he almost seemed half-asleep sometimes. Like he was in a dream.”

  “What did he say?” Satis asked.

  Rovi took a deep breath. The memory was crystal clear. “Kill the tree.” The same words his father would utter over and over again until his death.

  “Kill the tree,” Satis repeated.

  Rovi nodded. He’d lost count of how many times he’d heard his father utter those words.

  “I’ve always wondered exactly what happened to your father when he performed his experiment,” Satis said.

  “He lost his mind,” Rovi said. “He stepped outside himself and couldn’t get back. It exhausted him. Every day that passed after the experiment, my dad got more and more tired.”

  Satis sighed. “I’ve always thought there was more to it than that. Much more. I don’t think the experiment made him lose his mind. I think something happened when he stepped outside himself.”

  “Like what?” Rovi asked.

  “I don’t know,” Satis replied. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for years. Maybe he saw something terrible. Maybe he accidentally sent himself somewhere frightening. But you and I know that he was never the same.”

  Rovi took a big bite of bread to hide the tears that had sprung to his eyes. “Or maybe he just lost his mind and tried to cut down the Tree of Ecrof.”