The Games of Ganthrea

by Andy Adams

  “We do it every other day,” Finnegan said. “Sorian likes to spring it on us as though he thought it up, but every squad does group practice.”

  Brenner chased down his sandwich with a swig of pomegranate juice, and joined Finnegan as the squad walked together through the inner castle corridors. They passed through a large hall that had towering brown statues on either side. Brenner looked at one of the winged-horses standing twice his height, and marveled when he realized the Pegasus was carved from a single, giant trunk.

  “What color is your amulet?” a soft voice asked behind them.

  He and Finnegan turned around to see a small group of pretty girls staring at them, one of whom he recognized as Maureen. Brenner wasn’t sure who asked. The girls looked back at him expectantly, continuing their walk.

  “Why’s that matter?” Finnegan cut in.

  “We just wanna know,” said a taller girl with crow black hair. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “What color is yours?” Brenner asked them.

  “Green,” the girl said, which the others echoed in turn.

  “Right,” said Finnegan, “All of ours are green, so what’s your point, Evie?”

  Brenner peered down at his tunic. “Mine is green…and red.”

  The girls let out a small squeal of surprise. “See?! I told you he had different elixir!”

  Brenner felt a flush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks. “Don’t other students have red elixir?” he asked.

  “No,” said Evie. “Students with red elixir never come to Valoria. Why didn’t you go to Boldenskeep Academy in Montadaux?”

  “Course they have!” Finnegan jutted in. “Lots of dual elixir students come here. They’re just usually blue or yellow in addition to green. Don’t act like you’ve never seen a double colored amulet.”

  “He’s right, Evie,” Maureen said, as the group went down steps into a dark passageway illuminated by hanging lanterns.

  “Fine, but why didn’t you go to the other school?” Evie said, pressing her point.

  “This is where my family always went,” said Brenner coolly.

  “What’s your last name?” said Evie.

  “Wahlridge.”

  “I’ve never heard of that name before,” said Maureen.

  “And I’m sure you know every spellcaster that has graced these halls, right?” said Finnegan dryly.

  Some of the girls laughed at his comment.

  The students filed through a large door into a large space about half the size of the Agilis stadium. Before the girls could question Brenner further, Kendra and Sorian strode to an elevated platform and addressed the squad.

  “Today you train on the rods,” said Sorian, “until all of you finish without error. Then you will scale the crag wall. Boys, follow me!”

  “Girls,” said Kendra, “come with me to the wall.”

  Brenner looked up and saw two large castle turrets on either side of the training space. Between them a dozen tall, narrow poles stood like stilts and stretched across in a line for probably a hundred yards.

  The groups split, and Sorian directed the boys towards a high turret, with a winding, exterior staircase spiraling upward like ivy. In a minute, they had scaled the steps and waited on the roof of the turret. In front of them stood about thirty poles staggered some ten feet apart and, more importantly, they rose up fifty feet from the ground.

  “Travarius,” called Sorian, “show ‘em how it’s done.”

  A tall, dark-skinned boy with intimidating muscles strode towards the front. Quickly he leapt from the turret, landed on the first pole with his foot and launched towards the next, nimbly jumping across the flat tops of the thin poles, as carefree as if he was sprinting down a track. In less than a minute, he had reached the turret on the other side, turned, and crossed his arms smugly as the next teenager walked to the ledge.

  Sorian nodded his approval, then yelled, “Witkins, you’re next!”

  Witkins, a chubbier teen with spiky hair, stepped forward and gulped.

  “Get on with it.”

  Witkins nodded tentatively to Sorian, pumped his legs and started crossing the poles. Arms out and wobbling like a tipsy panda, Witkins was nowhere near as graceful as Travarius. On the fifth pole he missed the mark and sprawled forward, screaming. His hands flailed, grasping for something to cling to, but it was too late: he fell through the columns, halfway down bashed into another rod—Brenner held his breath—and then…an unexpected splash hit Brenner’s ears.

  A splash? Brenner let out a relieved sigh. He hadn’t seen the thin layer of water before, and up until that moment presumed the poor kid would be dashed upon the hard ground.

  “Pathetic,” Sorian said, peering over the edge of the turret. “Batterby,” he called out.

  A mouse-like boy shimmied through the group and stood at Sorian’s side. “Yes?” he said meekly.

  Still looking at the floating body, Sorian said, “Go pull Witkins out of the water. Make sure he’s breathing.”

  “Yes of course,” Batterby said obediently. He leaned over the other side of the turret, grabbed onto a metal pole, and quickly slid out of sight. Brenner walked over, and saw an enormous fireman’s pole that hugged against the turret and stretched down to the ground.

  He heard the sound of water sloshing below, and saw Batterby prodding Witkins to the side of the pool with a long pole.

  “Next!” shouted Sorian.

  With group morale shaken, it took a moment before anyone ventured forward. Brenner considered volunteering, but thought that Sorian would perceive his confident act as brazen showmanship, which he didn’t feel would help his already icy relationship with the captain. Finally, another boy took to the starting ledge.

  By Brenner’s count, only five teens finished the course, while eight unfortunate others stumbled and fell headlong fifty feet down into water, which, judging from their arm-flailing shrieks and belly-flops, couldn’t have been too pleasant. Nevertheless, if they weren’t completely knocked out, Sorian ordered them back up the turret to do it again.

  Brenner stepped to the ledge, watching the current runner. The boy nearly completed the course, but missed the last pole by inches, and before his cries of fright were cut off by the water, Sorian turned and directed Brenner.

  “You. Go.”

  Brenner looked across at the stone columns, tried to push away the tense feeling of being watched by the other conjurers, backed up, and hustled towards the edge of the stone turret.

  He jumped.

  The first pole was as wide as a dinner plate, and he caught it easily with his left foot and then leapt to the next. The rest of the field melted: he was in his element now, calculating each jump quickly and flawlessly. He felt like a mountain lion leaping along a well-trodden path…this was even becoming fun. When the surface of the last poles shrunk to the size of a fist, requiring precise footing and balance, Brenner still sprinted as though on solid ground. Then he landed upon the roof of the other turret, and slowed to a stop before the back wall. He grinned.

  “Nice run,” said one of the boys. “That looked as fast as Travarius.”

  A couple other teens nodded, and Brenner heard some shouts from the other turret. Travarius bristled and gave him a cold look.

  “Thanks,” said Brenner, walking the perimeter. His Mindscape training over the past weeks had paid off: he felt hardly winded.

  “You! Brenner!” Sorian’s voice called from across the poles, “Do it again.”

  “What?” one of the boys asked incredulously.

  “You heard him,” Travarius sneered, closing in on Brenner. “Do it again, or you’ll find yourself falling.”

  “Get on with it!” Sorian called out loudly from the other tower, “Or everybody has to do the course again.”

  Brenner could see Finnegan shaking his head and motioning something, but he didn’t want to cause more of a commotion.

  “Fine,” he said.

  Brenner backed up on the platform so that he could
begin with speed, and again raced towards the poles, leaping across the gaps.

  Jumping the course in reverse actually was slightly easier, as the pole footing started small and became larger. He was nearly halfway through when something unexpected happened: a bolt of white light struck a pole three places ahead of him—it shattered in two and fell towards the ground far below. He landed. Only one pole stood between him and the huge gap. He surged his strength. He landed and vaulted, and careened over the gap as the huge pole whacked like a dragon’s tail against the water below.

  He grimaced, it would be close—

  His foot connected with the pole-top. Yes! The forward energy surged down to the ball of his foot and he became like a spring, uncoiling itself and rebounding for the final stretch of poles. I’m going to make it!

  Then his face fell.

  Two more spells rocketed into the next poles in his path, which let out groans as they toppled over.

  Brenner didn’t have enough time to plan this next jump.

  He bounded forward into the gap—his arms whipped in panicked circles as he began his free fall—there was no chance of making the jump—this is gonna hurt—

  Then he froze, midair.

  “That’s enough, Sorian!” a stern voice called from below.

  Brenner tried to move. He couldn’t. It was like he was stuck to invisible fly paper. Presently, he felt himself being lowered to the ground. He saw Sage Shastrel, a deep scowl on his face, directing a steady beam of magic at him, but speaking with an amplified voice toward the upper deck of the turret.

  “Sorian,” Shastrel said firmly, “the next time you try to sabotage a member of your own squad you will be stripped of your captain’s rank. Squad dismissed.”

  As they walked back in the tunnels from the practice field, Finnegan came alongside Brenner. “That piece of scum,” he said, scowling towards Sorian. “You alright?”

  “Yeah…” Brenner said slowly, still shaken from the fall. “I think so.”

  “It’s one thing to stun an opponent during Zabrani, or Contendir, but your own squad?” Finnegan said, shaking his head. “Sorian’s sunk to a new low.”

  “There’s one in every school,” Brenner said, more to himself than to Finnegan.

  “You’ve been to other schools, then?” Maureen asked unexpectedly from behind.

  “Uh, no,” Brenner thought fast, “Just in general, there’s a bully in every group.”

  Maureen’s look told him she was not convinced. “How did you get so good at Agilis?”

  “I just practiced a lot…” Brenner said, trying not to meet her eyes, “a Mindscape in the woods.”

  “Hmm,” Maureen said. “Should be interesting to see you play Zabrani tomorrow.”

  They entered the Banquet Hall, where the tumult of other students talking and laughing covered for him as he followed Finnegan to the buffet table. He and Finnegan sat together by the rest of the conjurers, and eagerly started eating.

  In mid-bite, a sharp jab to Brenner’s back caused him to cough. A low voice came from behind.

  “Don’t think I’m through with you,” said Sorian coldly, continuing past Brenner so that the sages on the edges of the room wouldn’t notice.

  Anger coursed through Brenner, but he forced himself to remain seated.

  “Great lesson in Agilis, Captain,” Brenner called after him. “Now we know how to promote fear and failure in our squad.”

  Sorian stopped and turned to stare at Brenner, shooting a scowl at him. Brenner stared defiantly back, knowing that Sorian wouldn’t dare do anything brash in the middle of the Banquet Hall.

  “Lucky break for you, rookie. Tomorrow’s Zabrani may be too much for you to handle.” He turned on his heels and joined the other side of his squad.

  Finnegan’s attempts at humor later that evening in the common room helped his spirits, but Brenner’s mind kept returning to Sorian, and how to outmaneuver him.

  “What do you want to do tonight?” Finnegan asked.

  “Depends,” Brenner said. “How well do you know Zabrani?”

  “Been playing it since I started in this squad.”

  Brenner smiled. “Mind teaching me?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zabrani

  “You’ll like the next class we have,” Finnegan said the next morning.

  “What’s that?” Brenner asked, sipping his pomegranate juice.

  “Mental magic with Sage Erlynda. And I believe this time I’ll have an advantage over you.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Of course! I’ve been toiling at it for twelve months longer than you. You won’t be able to walk into this class and blow everyone away.”

  “You’re probably right,” Brenner said. Although if mental magic required the same intuition that physical magic did, he reasoned, he may grow to rival Finnegan fairly soon.

  Ten minutes later, Finnegan guided them into a sun-lit courtyard that Brenner guessed was in the middle of Valoria. Students were already seated in a circle around a lady with dark, raven hair, darker eyes, a thin physique, and silver sage robes.

  “Please be seated,” Sage Erlynda called in a clear, high voice, pointing to woven-reed mats.

  Brenner and Finnegan sat on the mats next to stone columns.

  “Fair morn, spellcasters,” she said to the group.

  “Fair morn, Sage Erlynda,” the group dutifully responded.

  “Today we will continue our foray into mind reading. Using what you learned about mentalidium, you will read the image presented in your partner’s mind. Now, look at your mat.”

  As she spoke, luminescent yellow lines from their mats grew on the ground like tendrils, curling across the circle toward other vines until each found a match. Brenner followed his light-line until he saw who he had been joined with. He gulped. He was paired with Kendra.

  “Now that you’ve been partnered,” Erlynda went on, “Boys, picture an animal in your mind’s eye, and maintain eye contact with your partner. Girls, let your minds see the reflection of their thought. Raise your mircons. Begin.”

  Around the courtyard, spellcasters called out, “Mentalidium.”

  Brenner didn’t know which was more awkward: having to stare into a girl’s eyes for what seemed like forever, or knowing that she was trying to see inside his thoughts. He pictured a green chameleon, perched on a branch.

  Nervous giggles rang out from the class, and after a moment, animals started being called out.

  “Leopard!”

  “Nightshade!”

  “Golden Ursa.”

  “Very good,” Sage Erlynda commented, walking around the students, and pointing her mircon at their foreheads.

  So far, Kendra wasn’t having much luck getting into Brenner’s head, but she was certainly causing discomfort. Brenner felt something like a vice grip squeezing his mind.

  Kendra’s eyebrows furrowed, and she continued scowling as the two made the most unwelcomed and forced eye contact Brenner had ever been part of, broken only when a fly landed on his arm and bit him. He winced and batted it away.

  “It’s something green…” Kendra said, as the sage passed next to her.

  Brenner gritted his teeth, unwilling to let his concentration lapse again.

  After another long minute, Erlynda thankfully called out, “Stop.”

  Kendra lowered her mircon, and Brenner felt like a magnet stopped tugging at his head.

  “This time,” Erlynda said, “visualize the mental defenses of your target. See beyond the physical person in front of you.” She raised her arm and said, “Again.”

  Brenner pointed his mircon at Kendra, said, “Mentalidium,” and although he was watching her eyes, they turned into a hazy mist, and pushing through that, he found a solid mental wall erected. He knew he’d have to do more than just put pressure on it.

  How does she think? Confident, controlling, proud, an alpha…How would she defend with a wall?…she’d expect brute force…so if I can distract her, I might just
slip around it…he didn’t exactly know how, but he sent her a picture of an army…first it attacked a section of the wall, which held fast, then it divided in two and tunneled at opposite ends. Then it divided again and tried scaling the walls…and now a war broke forth, with Kendra’s own army appearing at the tops and pushing his soldiers back…his mental energy fading, he gathered his army into one mass again except for a scout laying low to the ground, and after failing at breaking the front entrance, bowed before the wall and turned back in retreat. Then it happened. The back of the wall faltered, likely because Kendra felt she had won and relaxed her guard, and his lone scout saw beyond the rampart to a scaly creature flapping its wings.