The Games of Ganthrea

by Andy Adams

  Forty yards away, Windelm and Sherry squeezed against the railing from the packed crowd, smiling and waving down at him. Finnegan and Gemry waved from behind them.

  “Meet in thirty minutes at the northern doors!” Windelm called out.

  Brenner gave them a thumbs-up, which, judging from their confused looks, must not have been a common gesture in Ganthrea.

  “Got it!” he clarified. “See you then!”

  He turned and retrieved his mircon from the team lockbox, then headed under the railing into the Silvalo dugout. The noise of the stadium dimmed as he walked through a tunnel, replaced with the peaceful sounds of running water. Steam and warmth met his face as he entered a large chamber illuminated by strange, glowing ferns all around the perimeter. There were three pools fed by rippling waterfall cascades, but, he frowned, no showers. Ah well…he thought, when in Rome… He changed out of his Agilis uniform, and noticed with a wince the jagged red cuts along his leg from being dragged on the rock ledge.

  A tropical smell came from the one of the shimmering pools, not unlike aloe vera. He walked to it, and as he lowered himself into the water to clean off the sweat, the warm liquid relaxed him. He closed his eyes. When he looked down at his leg a moment later, the red cuts were already closing and healing over with new skin. He raised his eyebrows: Okay, this is waaay better than a shower.

  Refreshed from the soaking pool, he climbed out, dried off, then put on new green robes he found at the end of the chamber, neatly organized by size. After walking through more stone-lined tunnels past the pools, he saw rays of light coming down a corridor, and followed them until he reached an exit from the stadium.

  “There you are!” Finnegan said, clapping him on the shoulder as he emerged. “We thought you got lost.”

  “Brenner! Well played!” Windelm said warmly. “Your friends here suggested we go to Hutch & Sons. With the thousands of fans flooding the streets, we’re surely better off flying. You all know the flight spell, right?”

  Gemry nodded, but Finnegan turned red and said, “Actually—”

  “We can walk,” Brenner said, not wanting Finnegan to have to travel alone.

  “Are you sure you’re up for it?” Sherry asked, a concerned look in her eyes. “It’s at least an hour with the crowds…and you must be exhausted from the match.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be alri—”

  “Excuse me,” Gemry said, “if you can spare a few minutes, I have something that will help. Be right back.”

  She flew over the crowd in the direction of Valoria. Finnegan looked embarrassed that he was slowing the group down.

  Sherry turned to Brenner. “How did you feel competing in your first Agilis match?”

  A mix of emotions came to mind: “Well, nervous for starters…but then each task came so fast that there wasn’t time to dwell on it… I felt hyper alert—probably because each obstacle was a must-win.” A thought occurred to Brenner: he played today in a way he never could back on Earth, his body able to run, jump, and climb without limitations. “Once the landscape and creatures started attacking me, everything just…flowed…” He smiled. “And for the most part, that was fun.”

  “Your trick using tendril vines for gloves was impressive,” Sherry said.

  “That was good, but—” Windelm started saying, giving an annoyed look to a chubby man who bumped into him. Windelm cast an Aura spell around the four of them, then said, “That’s better. I’d have to say my personal favorite was when you acted like a matador—treating the aviamir like a charging bull, using your cape to blind it, and then hanging on for the ride. I’d like to think I would have done that.”

  “Thanks,” Brenner said. “I wished I could’ve ridden one sooner, then I would’ve been able to skip past the centaur.”

  “Yeah,” said Finnegan, “That fall looked painful.”

  There was a tapping on the outside of the Aura. Looking up, they saw Gemry floating on Velvo.

  “Capital idea,” Windelm said, dissipating the Aura.

  Finnegan and Brenner joined her on the carrier carpet, sitting cross-legged next to each other while Windelm and Sherry flew ahead, robes swishing in the light breeze. They hovered over the thick crowd on the streets and flew into the denser-than-usual current of flying spellcasters zooming high above the street.

  “Thanks, Gemry,” Finnegan said, looking over Velvo’s side. “The vias are jammed down there.”

  “No problem,” she said, then turned to Brenner. “Hey, nice plays in your Agilis match. Glad you came out on top.” She slipped her hand into his, and to Brenner at least, her eyes sparkled.

  A rush of happiness filled him. “Thanks, Gemry,” he said, smiling back at her. He pretended not to notice when Finnegan looked over at them and made a gagging sound.

  Velvo floated down for a soft landing at the entrance to Hutch & Sons, past a large replica of a mug on a pedestal, blue fire crackling from its top. A glowing green sign beneath it read, “Arborio’s Favorite Singefire Ale.”

  “Looks like your Dad’s reputation has spread,” Brenner said, seeing an overflow of orange and blue robed customers forming a queue out the tavern’s front door. Windelm went to join the end of the line, but Finnegan waved him back.

  “Follow me,” Finnegan said, ushering the five around the side, next to a massive redwood. Pots of steaming vegetables and aromas of grilled meat met them as they entered, and a startled cook who shouted, “’Scuse me! You can’t come through there!”

  “Hey Tarino,” Finnegan waved over a counter covered with sliced tomatoes and grated cheeses, “They’re with me.”

  “Oh…hey Fin. Hurry up about it.”

  They followed Finnegan and squeezed past other busy cooks and waiters through the extensive kitchen. Windelm looked ready to sample everything if it weren’t for the watchful eye of Sherry—“Don’t you dare, mister! It’s not our cottage!”—and instead of leading them out the main door to the ground floor tables and packed booths, Finnegan took them up a circular staircase “These are the best seats in the house,” he said, “where Pop and I like to eat.”

  The five of them slid into a corner booth, where chatter and laughter from the fans below wafted up and over the balcony. On the walls were iron statues of dragons and a few paintings of what must have been great Zabrani players, shooting spells across a huge arena. Brenner could see over the bannister to the packed tables below, where orange flames danced in stines before patrons blew them out and sipped their singefire ales.

  Finnegan passed around thick menus, then leaned over the bannister and called out to a waitress, who looked up and waved to him.

  “To celebrate,” Windelm said with a flourish to the group, “order whatever you’d like. The meal’s on me. Not only did Brenner win the first Agilis match, he won us a dozen golders, too.”

  While Finnegan and Brenner looked pleased at the invitation to eat to their heart’s content, Gemry looked dourly at her menu, and Sherry crossed her arms.

  “Relax, dear,” said Windelm, “I never put down any coins I think we’ll miss.”

  “So, you don’t mind losing our golders then?” Sherry said with raised eyebrows. “Maybe you should balance the books this month and see what golders are left to throw away.”

  “Oh, come now, we both know he’s good,” said Windelm defensively, “really, with Brenner it was a sure bet!”

  Windelm’s words didn’t erase Sherry’s concerned look, but they created a glow of pride in Brenner. And it also made him wonder aloud, “Can anyone bet on the outcome of the games?”

  “Sure,” said Windelm, “There’s gaming booths all around the stadium—I’ll show you tomorrow at Zabrani—you can bet on teams, or, for higher odds, on individual players. That’s one of the perks of the hosting biome, they get revenue from lodging and food of course, but the lion’s share comes from all the gambling at the Games.”

  “Pop says there are at least a hundred bookies roaming the stands, too,” Finnegan added, “I’ve seen a few here a
fterward, usually bragging about their winnings.”

  Windelm nodded. “For every patrolling city guard of Arborio, there are at least ten illegal bookies running their own odds. Sure, you could get better odds with them, but that’s assuming they avoid a bankrupt payout, and worse, if you’re caught, you could get a year with a collar around your neck.”

  “So the winnings must be good enough for people to risk getting collared,” Brenner said. “Players couldn’t bet on themselves, could they?”

  “They can only bet for themselves, never against, or on a competing team,” said Windelm, “even still, some do. But if they’re caught taking money for throwing a match, they’re banned from the Games for their life. And when the fans meet them in the streets, they’re not kind.”

  A pretty, red haired woman sidled up to their table. “Hi, dears, I’m Ambry. All ready to order?”

  As they did, she jotted down their remarks, then turned and walked back down the circular staircase.

  Windelm asked about Gemry and Finnegan’s families, listening politely, but with a crease in his forehead when Gemry said her last name of Gespelti. He brightened after Finnegan finished and said, “I haven’t been to Hutch & Son’s in years. Your father has a fine tavern here, Finnegan!”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Finnegan said, beaming.

  “Gemry,” Sherry said, “How do you feel about tomorrow’s match?”

  “Mostly good,” Gemry said. “The Game Keepers just posted the Zabrani schedule this morning, and we’re playing Arenaterro. I think we have better knights than them. But I also hear they play dirty.”

  “For being neighbors of Silvalo,” said Windelm, “you’d think they would show more decency…but you’re right, I would expect the worst.”

  Soon Ambry arrived back with a tray steaming with five entrees and drinks, and they bit into hot sandwiches and roasted vegetables. Brenner smiled; his bryfallo steak was just as good as he remembered.

  They finished their meal with cool ciders, except for Windelm, who drank a Singefire Ale, declaring its dark ale and spicy, honeyed taste as—“One of the best flavors of the games!”—and then they left the tavern.

  “A good morning, and a good game, Brenner,” Finnegan said. He eyed the crowd of patrons sprawling out the door and added, “Pops could definitely use more help. I’ll see you later.”

  “See ya, Finnegan.”

  With a wave, he turned and wove his way back inside.

  “Well,” Windelm said, “We are lodging at the Heather Heights inn—saves us from the long flight home each day—and you’re more than welcome to join us…relax before your next Agilis match on Wednesday.”

  “Thanks…” Brenner said, looking over at Gemry, “I’ll swing by later this evening.”

  Gemry smoothed her robes and smiled. “Thanks for the lunch, and it was nice meeting you today.”

  “And you as well!” said Sherry.

  “I think I’ll head back to Valoria,” Gemry said, “rest up for tomorrow.”

  “Mind if I join you?” Brenner said.

  “Sure thing, conjurer.”

  A knowing look flitted behind Sherry’s eyes. “Windelm, I believe we have some sightseeing to do.”

  “We do?”

  She nodded and tugged his arm. “Brenner,” Sherry said with a smile, “we’ll see you later this evening.” Then she hooked elbows with Windelm and steered him down the street.

  As an afterthought, Windelm pulled something from his pocket and said, “Brenner, catch!”

  Brenner caught the airborne coin: a heavy golder.

  “Extra winnings from your match,” Windelm shouted. “Enjoy!”

  “Oh. Thanks!” He waved back and then pocketed it.

  Gemry sent a spell to the roof of Hutch & Son’s, and Velvo appeared from behind a chimney and circled down to them. They hopped on.

  “Valoria please, Velvo,” Gemry said. “But take the scenic route.”

  The carrier carpet floated up, almost seeming to nod its front tassels.

  “So…what’s on your mind?” Brenner asked, as they whisked into the flight pattern of spellcasters.

  “Well… the games of course. I’ve been working towards this week for my whole life. Winning will change everything.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded. “With those golders, I can pay off tuition, make a name for myself, maybe do some traveling…see what the rest of Ganthrea is like.” She sighed. “If I can convince my parents to let me.”

  “If anyone deserves to win at Zabrani, I think you do. You can read flight formations, predict offensive surges, you’re easily one of the best.”

  Gemry’s green eyes met his. “Thanks, Brenner.”

  “Of course.”

  She slid her fingers into his hand, then said, “You’re blushing again.”

  “Me?” Brenner said, trying to laugh it off, “No…it’s just…hot out…”

  “Oh right,” she said, “Up here in the breeze.”

  “Well…heat rises, and we’re up in the canopy…”

  “You’re not fooling anyone,” she said with a grin.

  She was right, of course, but he didn’t want to admit it.

  For the next hour they swooped through the canopy hand in hand. Brenner was sure the curious looks they received from spellcasters looking down from their tree homes were because of the ridiculous grin plastered on his face. Soon, they soared into view of the ramparts and tree turrets of Valoria.

  Velvo smoothly decelerated and Gemry directed it around the southern walls, then up to a large, open balcony with violet and pink flowers cascading over planter boxes. Brenner leaned against Gemry’s shoulder, the light fragrance of her silky, dark hair floating into him.

  “So, this is where the magicians live?” Brenner asked, already knowing the answer by seeing spellcasters inside reading on armchairs, but wanting to savor the moment.

  “Good job, conjurer!” said Gemry, patting his knee. “Yeah, I like to come out here on the balcony to practice my spells…it’s usually quiet and free from spellcasters, even though it has one of the best views of the academy and Silvalo…”

  Velvo slowly rotated, giving them a panoramic view of the sweeping parapets and towers of the castle around them, then of the oakbrawns and lush, colorful foliage of the tree-city skyline.

  Brenner’s heart was thumping madly in his chest, as though urging him to do something…

  He smiled at her, looked away…just go for it already! He closed his eyes, swung his head over to hers and kissed… her teeth.

  Oh, no!

  He pulled back, supremely embarrassed. “I’m sorry! That was not what I was going for!”

  Gemry looked at him, eyes wide with surprise, and then she burst out laughing. Brenner felt mortified. I blew it! That was horrible! He covered his face with a hand.

  Gemry’s loud giggling drew some curious looks from the spellcasters inside. If he could have, Brenner would have sucked his head into his body like a turtle.

  Finally, Gemry calmed herself down. Brenner pretended to be really interested in the distant woods, but he could feel her looking at him. She pulled his hand down from his face. “So was that your first almost-kiss then?” She chuckled again.

  “Uh…yeah,” he said, nodding and feeling like a thousand pins were pricking him all over.

  She turned his chin to face her. “Here’s another tip, conjurer: it works better when you keep your eyes open.”

  She leaned over and kissed him seamlessly: it was soft and golden and much, much better than Brenner’s failed attempt. Then they drew apart, Gemry’s eyes seeming to twinkle, Brenner’s in a haze.

  “See? That’s not so hard, was it?”

  Brenner felt numb. He nodded vaguely.

  “And here I was starting to think we were only study partners…”

  They sat a moment longer in a wonderful glow of silence, looking out over the city, as the sun drifted down through cotton-puff pinks.

  “Alright,” s
aid Gemry, “I should be going.” Her fingers pulled apart from his hands, and she nimbly stepped off Velvo. Brenner’s senses returned to him.

  “Will you be watching the Zabrani match tomorrow?” Gemry asked.

  “That’s a for sure.”

  She grinned. “Great. Do you want to borrow Velvo to head over to Heather Heights?”

  “Thank you, but I think I have enough energy to fly back.”

  “Okay,” Gemry said, giving him one last smile before turning back to her quarters. “As you’re flying, don’t let the tourists plow into you mid-flight on the airpaths. I’ve grown rather fond of you.” She winked and walked inside.