by A. L. Knorr
She was perfect, and that was saying something, because up until I laid eyes on this woman, I’d always though Georjayna was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. But it wasn’t just her beauty that captured me, it was something else, something I couldn’t put my finger on. I wanted to shake her hand, see if there was a flash of fire between us, hear her speak. I hadn’t felt so entranced by someone since I’d first met Targa’s mum. It was disconcerting and uncomfortable.
“Sean Pilterman, Axel Bell, January Jaques—”
She stood there demurely, making that horrible pale green uniform look good. Her hair lay in shining layers, bluntly cut and framing a face that couldn’t be described as anything other than doll-like. Finely arched blond brows framed thick, dark lashes (if they were naturally that black I’d eat my fireproof socks) framed glacier-blue eyes. Generous, petal pink lips curved in a polite smile. Her cheekbones glowed with a pearlescent sheen. She was average height, every joint was aligned, every feature perfectly symmetrical and elegantly formed.
Liu came to the blond but made no indication that she was about to introduce anyone special. And, why would she?
“Eira Nygaard.”
I stole a glance at my teammates, wondering if they felt the same urge to study Eira. To my amazement, no one was paying her any extra attention, at least not this second. Not even the men.
“Saxony Cagney.”
I gave a start as Basil addressed me. “Yes?”
There was a titter and I realized he’d just been introducing me.
The headmaster gave me a weird look and moved on. “Cecily Price, Peter Toft—”
Heat flushed from the base of my neck to the roots of my hairline. I wanted to crawl behind the nearest sofa. I cast my gaze to the carpet and gave myself a talking to. She’s just another fire mage you have to defeat. Put her out of your mind.
“Ah, all the competitors are here?” Guzelköy’s voice jarred me out of my private pep-talk as he appeared from the direction of Victory Hall, Davazlar trailing behind with a stack of tablets in his hand.
“All here, Zafer,” said Basil, “with the exception of Babs and Mr. Bunting. I guess they’re running late.”
“No worries, we don’t need them for this part.” The game-makers came to stand side-by-side as the group faced them. “Everyone? Welcome to Chaplin Manor. I’m Zafer Guzelköy and this is my partner, Demir Davazlar.”
The big game-maker briefly looked up from the top tablet which he’d been fiddling with, smiled, and then continued whatever he was doing.
“Before Dr. Price shows you to your rooms,” Guzelköy announced, “we’ll need to complete the intake forms. Dates of birth, contact information, next of kin and so on, as well as the release form. Davazlar will help you. Let’s start with the guest school, shall we?”
Guzelköy had the Firethorne competitors arrange themselves in a relaxed line along the wall. Davazlar handed out four tablets and got the students inputting their information.
Tomio appeared at my shoulder. “Look at them. Signing away life and limb,” he joked. “Suckas.”
“If that makes them suckas, then we’re suckas too,” I whispered back.
He waggled his eyebrows and gave me a cheesy, exaggerated wink. “We’re not suckers. Suckers lose. We’re going to win.”
Part Two
The Games Begin
Ten
Challenge the First
At eight-fifteen the following morning, after an early breakfast, the competitors filed into Lecture Hall A for their briefing. It was smaller than Lecture Hall C, split down the middle by an aisle. Rows of wooden bench seats and desks glistening with a high-shine finish sat on graduated platforms. The first row was at ground level, and each row behind that was higher by roughly a foot.
We took the central aisle to the front and broke into two groups. Arcturus students took the seats on the right side of the room and Firethorne took the ones on the left. Basil and Christy surprised us by sliding into the front row, taking a seat on the bench like they were students.
Seated between Cecily and Tomio, I leaned forward and shot the headmaster and Dr. Price a questioning look.
“This is just as much the unknown to us as it is to you,” Basil said. He crossed one leg over the other and sat back against the wooden bench.
Taking their direction from Basil and Christy, Babs and Mr. Bunting sat with the Firethorne students as well. This was the first time I’d seen them since the committee meeting.
“Nice to see they finally showed up for their team,” Tomio whispered out the side of his mouth.
I nodded, barely listening. Clouds of butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if they were from anxiety or excitement. Guzelköy and Davazlar were at the front of the room, standing on the dais and talking quietly. Davazlar’s bulk blocked out much of the chalkboard. His head was bent low to listen to his much shorter partner. Guzelköy’s neat, quick hands flashed around as he spoke. Davazlar had a hand over his mouth in a thoughtful posture, nodding at intervals.
When everyone was settled, Guzelköy stepped in front of the lecturer’s desk, rubbing his hands together. His eyes sparkled. I was certain this man loved his job. Davazlar remained in the background, leaning against the desk with the backs of his thighs and keeping that same pensive posture.
“Welcome to the Arcturus Academy versus Firethorne Collegiate Games.” Guzelköy opened his palms and bounced on his toes. “After much hard work, some inventive construction and days of testing, our first challenge is ready. We will begin within the hour.”
Whispers swept through the lecture hall. It sounded like wind stirring the tops of summer grain.
“We call the first challenge Traps, Tools, and Time. It’s an obstacle course but not one you’ve seen before, unless you’ve competed in one of our designs previously and I never forget a face, so I know none of you have.” He pointed a finger around the room, eyeballing the faces.
I shifted on the bench and fought to keep my knees from bouncing up and down. I loved obstacle courses. Not that I’d done many, but our elementary school had had a challenging one, which I’d loved, as part of the playground. In grade ten I’d taken part in a muddy obstacle course event to raise money for multiple sclerosis. The day had been full of laughter and feel-good moments when our team had come together to master the course.
“Each competitor will run the course alone,” Guzelköy said.
My legs relaxed. That didn’t sound like near as much fun.
“This briefing is to prep you, but I can’t give you much information so listen carefully. The course has been built to test fire mages specifically. It consists of ten obstacles which tests six main skills. Some obstacles will require you to combine skills to complete them, some will take a lot out of you while others will require more brains than brawn.”
Davazlar cleared his throat and Guzelköy looked back at him. Some silent communication passed between them. Guzelköy swung back to face us, looking contrite.
“Enough about the course. The only metric that matters is time, so just get through it as quickly as you can. You’ll get no extra points for creativity. This course is not like the ones you’ve seen naturals doing. There won’t be monkey bars or rope ladders.”
Davazlar cleared his throat again.
Guzelköy blushed. “Anyway, moving on. There will be no observers, but you will be monitored and recorded at all times. When you’re finished, someone will escort you away from the gym. Those who have completed the course will be kept separate from those who have yet to run it, to avoid information leaks. No one goes in with any extra information. Once every contender has run the course and the times have been registered, we’ll reconvene as a group to reveal which of you have won, and which of you is … well, suddenly dead, since this is sudden death.”
Someone from the Firethorne side called out, “This is a single-elimination, right? One Firethorne competitor against one Arcturus competitor. How do we know which com
petitor we are up against?”
Guzelköy swung to look at Davazlar and then swung back again, presumably after some telepathy. “You won’t.”
A confused murmur swept through the group.
“The clock is your main opponent but there is another factor at play behind the scenes. Your respective headmasters have furnished us with detailed information about your strengths and weaknesses. That information has been converted to data and that data has been uploaded to a custom algorithm, into which we also load metrics from our game’s structure. The algorithms then supply an Arcturus name against a Firethorne name, but the pairings won’t be revealed until the end. We’ll reveal your opponents and the times all at once. You’ll have no specific preparation beyond what’s said here today, and you’ll take nothing into the course with you beyond clothing and shoes. Water will be provided along the course. Any further questions?”
Tomio put a hand up.
Guzelköy nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Tomio spoke in a voice loud enough for the room to hear. “I don’t understand what the custom algorithm is designed to do, exactly. Can you elaborate?”
Guzelköy gestured to Davazlar that he should take this question.
Without moving from his post at the desk, the other game-maker answered. “Without the algorithm, this kind of game structure comes with a high probability that one team could win the whole tournament in any given round, eliminating all competitors from a single team at a single event. The algorithm spits out pairings that should mitigate this problem since our aim is four full rounds, but the algorithm doesn’t just make pairings, it looks at the data as a whole and predicts outcomes. I say ‘should mitigate’ because there’s no guarantee, your performances still determine the outcome, but our algo is sophisticated and has proved itself reliable in many other tournaments of this nature.”
There was a murmur of quiet amazement at this explanation.
Tomio had a second question. “Will we have access to the footage when the challenge is over?”
Guzelköy answered this one. “Not before the games are completed. Your headmaster will have access for coaching purposes, but competitors will have to wait until the conclusion of the games.”
Tomio settled back, satisfied.
“Anyone else?” He swept the room and found a few hands raised in the Firethorne crowd. “Yes? The lady at the end.”
“Have you run the course yourselves?” asked Liu.
“Of course we have,” Guzelköy replied. “Multiple times. There’s no other way to work out the kinks.”
“Then I was wondering if you could tell us what a good performance time might be. Something to aim for?”
That stilled the room but Guzelköy shook his head. “I’m sorry but we can’t. First, because we don’t know. We’ve run the course but we also designed it, so we don’t know how long it might take someone who tackles it for the first time. Second, even if we knew, we wouldn’t say. If we said ‘x’ time would be considered strong, you will try to keep an internal clock and if it takes you longer, there’s a risk you’ll become demoralized, or go more slowly because you think it’s a lost cause. Worse, that might happen to someone who may in fact be ahead. We don’t want that.”
There was a pause as Guzelköy eyed the crowd, but no one had any more to ask.
“Okay.” Guzelköy slapped his hands together, which triggered Davazlar into action. He picked up a cardboard box that had been sitting behind him on the desk and moved toward the crowd as he opened the flaps. He pulled an item out of the box and looked at it. Scanning the group, he approached Tomio and handed him a small plastic disk.
Tomio took it. “Thanks.”
I peered at the disk as Tomio turned it over in his hands. It had a label on the back with Tomio’s name and school name printed on it.
Davazlar rifled through the box, pulling out another that looked the same. He handed it to me.
“Thank you.” I took my disk and looked at the back. It had my name printed in small neat letters next to Arcturus Academy. One side of the disk was slightly raised. I’d seen similar devices given out by restaurants to patrons who had to wait for a table. It was a buzzer.
Davazlar moved through the lecture hall, digging through the box and matching a disk to the competitor whose name was on the back. I marveled that he seemed to have everyone’s name and face memorized. The only Firethorne students I knew on sight were Eira and Liu.
“Davazlar is handing you a buzzer with your name on it. This is your own personal starting gun, keep it with you at all times. When your buzzer goes off, you’ll have twenty minutes to get yourself to the main doors of the fire-gym. Your game clock will start after exactly twenty minutes, whether you are there or not, so please consider punctuality your first obstacle.”
After distributing the last of the buzzers, Davazlar returned the box to the desk and resumed his relaxed posture.
“The game will pause from 11pm to 8am. No one will be buzzed overnight. But you’d all best be up and ready to go every morning before 8, in case you’re the first competitor of the day.”
I looked up, blinking with surprise. Every morning?
There was an unsettled murmur in the room, but Guzelköy noticed my expression first.
He templed his long fingers in front of his lean stomach. “Ms. Cagney? Question?”
“This challenge could take days?”
The game-maker’s expression turned smug. “Not could, Ms. Cagney. Will.”
There was the sound of bodies shifting against one another and wood creaking as we absorbed this.
“We’re almost done here, just a bit of housekeeping.” He beckoned to Dr. Price.
She slid off the end of the bench and stepped up on the dais, facing the opposing team. “Firethorne competitors have been designated the first-year lounge on the first floor. We’ll have meals brought to the lounge while the games are in progress. Once you’ve run the course, you’ll be escorted to a lounge on the second floor. Pack an overnight bag, as where you sleep will be determined by whether you’ve finished the course or not.”
The doctor turned to address the Arcturus students. “The same instructions go for you, only you’ll start in the lounge on the third floor. Once you’ve run the course, you’ll be escorted to the professor’s lounge, where you’ll wait out the remaining time. Likewise, have an overnight bag ready.” She looked at Guzelköy and nodded, then returned to her seat beside Basil.
“If there are no more questions,” Guzelköy said, now grinning like the Cheshire Cat, “then let the games begin. Good luck to all, and keep an eye on those buzzers.”
He turned and strode over to Davazlar and they resumed the tableau they’d started with. I watched them, fascinated, wondering how they’d come to have the professions they had, and if we might be allowed to hang out with them casually at any point in time.
A tap on my shoulder by Tomio made me realize that half the students had left their seats already. Gripping my buzzer, I slid along the bench, hopped into the aisle and followed the group out.
Dr. Price escorted the Arcturus students to the third-floor where she stood by the door of the lounge and waited until the last of us had gone inside before following us in. We lined up our overnight bags along one wall and then spread out. I gravitated toward the window seat, hefting my buzzer absently as I shoved a pillow against the frame and sat down. Tomio joined me there while the rest of the team collapsed on the sofas and chairs.
Dr. Price stood by the door, resting a hand on the knob.
“Lunch will be at twelve-thirty,” she said.
“Is Lars cooking?” Harriet asked, polite but clearly hoping not.
“He’ll cook for the Firethorne team,” Christy replied, “since he’s Mr. Bunting’s contact. We’ll be catering in your food.”
“Hallelujah,” Felix murmured under his breath.
Dr. Price ignored him. She picked up an empty basket sitting on a side-board. “We’ve loaded the lounge with mov
ies, books, games. Please use only the third-floor toilets. Also, you must surrender your cell phones until the challenge is completed.” She pointed at the basket, indicating where we were to put our phones.
There was a collective groan at this. One by one we approached Christy, dropping our phones into the basket before returning to our seats.
“I’m sorry.” Dr Price said to our moping faces. “Game-makers rules. No outside communication is allowed.”
“Can we go outside?” Cecily asked as she pulled a magazine from the stack on the coffee table onto her lap.
“Only with an escort, I’m afraid.”
There was a communal groan. These early summer days in England were the finest we’d seen.
Dr. Price gave us sympathetic look. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll be monitoring the games as they progress. While the Firethorne students are running the course, I’d be happy to go outside with you, as long as Basil doesn’t need me.”
“Are we going to see him?” Felix stretched his extraordinarily long legs out before him, hooking a heel on a coffee table.
“He’s juggling matters of his father’s estate while this is going on, as well as some agency business. He’ll be in as often as he can.”
A disappointed look flitted around the room like a bird.
“He didn’t even give us a team pep-talk or anything,” Brooke grumbled.
As though summoned by her complaint, Basil appeared behind Christy. “Hello, troops.”
He looked tired, but less weary than he’d looked all semester, and there was an electric air about him. I supposed the worry about his father had passed now and he’d had to shift into survival mode. The games were unexpected, but he looked as though he’d come to terms with them.
He passed Christy and took a seat on the ottoman next to the cold fireplace. He palmed his hands between his knees, fingers pointed to the floor. “Thank you for what you’re doing for me.”
“Maybe don’t thank us yet, Boss,” Cecily murmured.