The Games of Ganthrea

by Andy Adams

  Finally, Greaves shook the reigns of the Pegasi, and the two took to the sky just as Sovereign Drusus boomed out, “And from Silvalo—Brenner Wahlridge!”

  Together, Brenner and Gemry made their loop around the stadium—Brenner’s nerves racing under his skin in an unpleasant tingle. He’d rather just get to the game, as this—several hundred thousand spellcasters yelling, the scrutiny of the leaders—was causing his stomach to tighten.

  Gemry seemed to sense his discomfort, and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry about them. You’ve gotten this far, which is great in itself.”

  He gave a small smile.

  “And even if they turn on you, or worst case, you lose,” she added, looking him directly in the eye, “you’ll still have me around.”

  He squeezed her hand in return. “Thanks, Gemry.”

  “Of course. Now just finish in one piece, okay?”

  Brenner nodded.

  “Good,” said Gemry, “Come on. Time for you to smile with aaaall your exquisitenness, and wave to your adoring fans.”

  He laughed. As if coming out of a trance, Brenner raised his arm over the side of the carriage and did his best to appear like he was enjoying himself. Gemry’s words strengthened him; now all he had to do was keep his end of the bargain…and live until the end of the match.

  After ten more minutes of touring above the crowds, Brenner and Gemry touched down on the arena by the largest section of Silvalo fans.

  A voice from above caught his attention.

  “Brenner!”

  He turned around, and saw Windelm wedged between a large cluster of people, leaning over the front row of the stands. Using his mircon, Brenner flew up to him.

  “Thanks for coming, Windelm.”

  “Of course!” Windelm said, as though it had never occurred to him not to come, “You know, it’s not every day my great-nephew competes in the biome’s largest Mindscape course.”

  “This…is the largest?” Brenner said, gulping as he looked again at the river, the islands, and the marble ruins in the field.

  “Well, yes,” Windelm said, nodding, “but you’ve played in tough courses before and you can do it again. Don’t let your emotions get to you.”

  “Uh-huh…right,” said Brenner tremulously.

  Windelm twisted his head to the side and said quietly, “Did you… happen to bring that Alacritus potion I gave you? From Vale Adorna?”

  “The Alacritus potion?” Brenner repeated, thinking. “No…” he said, remembering the vial was still in his backpack, and all the way back at Valoria. “I wish I did.”

  “Not to worry,” said Windelm, reaching into his robes. “I have a spare bottle here.” He pulled out a glass flask with blue and green bits swirling inside.

  “Is this allowed?”

  “Sure. It’s just for your mind. Not a steroid. But it only works if you focus your attention on one task. Go ahead.”

  Brenner looked from Windelm to the multitudes of people in the arena…to the special box of sovereigns…back to Gemry…then closed his eyes, focusing on the glowbes that would soon flit across the field.

  He opened his eyes.

  Windelm passed him the vial. “Remember, take one task at a time. And if anything, your entrance Agilis test was probably as hard as this.”

  Brenner uncorked the vial and drank; the liquid coursed down his throat, tasting faintly of green tea, he thought.Brenner felt like his vision narrowed. He became less aware of the crowd chanting on all sides…the food vendors shouting in the aisles…“Thanks, Windelm.”

  “I’m here to help. Now, go get those glowbes.”

  Brenner nodded, then turned, and flew back to the Pegasi carrier.

  “Feeling better?” Gemry asked.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good.” She leaned in and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Be amazing as I know you are.”

  His face flushed with warmth, and then the two reluctantly drew apart. “Thanks, Gemry.”

  She pulled out her mircon. “It’s about time I joined the fans. Maverick and Finnegan said they’d save me a spot in the Valoria section, which, judging from the riotous volume there,” she thumbed her finger backward, “I’d say it’s safe to guess they’re excited to see you play.”

  Brenner looked up, seeing a wave of emerald supporters. Wider in their green section of the stadium than a concert he’d once seen at Red Rocks in Colorado, the fans were singing an anthem:

  “We fly fastest and longest,

  We shoot and stun every foe,

  We are greenest and strongest:

  For we are SIL-VA-LO!”

  “Agilis players,” an official called in a loud voice that echoed across the whole stadium, “please head to the start of the course.”

  “That’s my queue,” said Gemry, hovering. “One last thing, Brenner: be sure you beat that punk sorcerer, Rodick.”

  Brenner smiled. “If I can, I will.”

  Gemry flew off to the Silvalo section, and he sat back in his seat.

  “Ready, Brenner?” Caster Greaves said, reins in hand.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Caster Greaves shook the reigns, and the Pegasi flew from midfield toward the far side of the stadium, where the three other Agilis players were touching down.

  “Officials,” Sovereign Drusus commanded, “add landform seeds, and release the glowbes.”

  Peering over the side of the carriage, Brenner watched as five officials flew through the course, adding seeds that brought the land to life, while others opened chests, and seven bright white glowbes shot through the field, crossing over the flowing river, growing forests, islands, marble ruins, before hovering to the perimeter. One zoomed to the far side, stopping over a thin band of something a dull iron. Interesting, Brenner thought, the glowbes were forming a six-sided Star of David pattern across the field…with the seventh glowbe flying to the middle, over the ruins.

  “Each of the four players,” Sovereign Drusus said when the glowbes and land had settled, “will receive a prize for making it to the finals of Agilis, and that prize increases for every glowbe captured. The spellcaster who catches the most of the seven glowbes will be the champion.”

  Greaves’ team of Pegasi touched down on an elevated platform, and Brenner jumped out, casting a glance at the other three players, who were pacing around the starting circle. Because of the height of the platform—about eighty feet—Brenner was afforded a decent view of the nearly three-mile stadium.

  He turned back, and the combatants met his eyes briefly. A searing intensity radiated from Rodick, his long, blond hair pulled back above his dark blue attire and thick arms. An amulet with blue and red elixir hung around his neck. The orange-clothed teen from Arenaterro, Armin, bronze skinned and brown-eyed, gave Brenner a dismissive huff, while the girl from Vispaludem, Jace, who sported a violet cloak beneath her pure black hair, gave the curtest of nods. An attendant approached Brenner with an open chest. Brenner deposited his mircon, and the man closed the lockbox, then bowed and returned to the edge of the platform. Having grown accustomed to flight and his spells, Brenner felt different…naked… without the mircon. To refocus, he swung his arms, then balanced on one foot and stretched a quad.

  “Officials, unleash the creatures.”

  There was a savage grumble, and from the center of the marble ruins burst an enormous snake, as thick as a semi-truck and longer than three of them from its tip to its tail.

  “Should’ve guessed there’d be a landwurm…” said Jace to his left.

  Coiling around one of the marble structures beneath a glowbe, the land-wurm opened its cavernous mouth, sounded a devilish roar that muffled into a hiss, before lowering its grey, scaly neck, camouflaged against the stone pillars.

  A loud splash came from the river ahead, and a group of officials quickly backed away from water. While he couldn’t see anything besides frothing bubbles on the surface, Brenner knew something was gliding in the river now. More noises came from the jungle below
them. Then a shiver pulsed down his neck as a piercing roar and a flicker of orange erupted from the furthest end of a field.

  I have to play against a dragon. With no mircon. He shook his head and gave a nervous laugh. He took a deep breath, and words he’d read or heard somewhere floated to the front of his mind… It always seems impossible until it’s done. He let the air out. There must be a way.

  He scanned the field for all seven glowbes. The island glowbe was central and closest; he could go for that first, then separate from the group and pick a side for two more…

  “Lastly,” said Drusus, “begin the repulsion process.”

  Officials came to three sides of the middle island, where a glowbe hovered. They threw down shimmering rocks into the waters—immediately a gushing noise like geysers erupting filled the stadium, and three reverse-waterfalls sprayed upward fifty-some feet, cloaking the island behind water-jets. The dense mist from them shrouded the middle of the field. If he weren’t about to race through danger, Brenner would have enjoyed sitting and marveling at the wide water-columns shooting upward like grand fountains. The forest was almost done growing now, with several trees sprouting branches right up to and beyond the starting platform.

  “Spellcasters, await your signal,” Drusus said with solemnity, then rotated to speak to the crowds. Brenner’s amulet pulsed with warmth against his chest. “Fellow Ganthreans, you have the pleasure of seeing this year’s final match of Agilis. May the best athlete win.” He spun in a circle, eyes resting on the four spellcasters. “Begin!”

  There were two sets of stairs that rose up to the starting platform on either side, and while Jace and Armin raced down them, Brenner and Rodick leaped forward into the boughs of the tree canopy. Rodick then slid down his trunk until he could jump down to the ground, but Brenner took the high road, bounding like a panther across the giant limbs from tree to tree.

  While he jumped through the canopy, he caught glimpses of the race below: the other three Agilis players ran ahead of him, elbowing each other when they came too close, Rodick lashing out with kicks.

  They were getting too far ahead. Brenner started to clamber down to catch them when he heard deep, angry snorts.

  “Ah!” someone yelled ahead.

  He climbed to the bottom bough of the oakbrawn—then a dense pack of warthogs stampeded through the undergrowth. Busting through bushes, snorting, and tearing up dirt, the tusked-animals circled and charged back. Brenner reversed course, keeping to his route in the trees.

  Less than a minute later, he saw Armin and Rodick sprinting sideways through the bushes, the sounder of warthogs rushing right after them, eyes raging red. Only when the players climbed trees and began racing along the boughs did the warthogs snort angrily and end the hunt.

  Through the jungle-tops the players progressed, the roar of the reverse-waterfalls growing louder, until the forest thinned, and Brenner scaled down one of the maple trunks. The warthogs appeared to be gone.

  Across the river, on the big island, Brenner could make out the pulsating white glowbe behind the upward coursing waterfalls. There were three small openings around the island that would likely be the best routes. Looking up and down the riverbank, he noticed something else: four slim boats a ways down on the bank…and further away, a cluster of rocky rapids that could be used to jump across the river.

  He made a dash for the boat, but Armin and Jace suddenly burst from the jungle ahead of him, shoving one another. Armin pushed a boat into the water and hopped into it, pulling a paddle from below the gunwale and making deep strokes toward the island. Jace got a boat, too—and, looking scornfully back at Brenner, pushed the third boat hard into the water. The current quickly carried it downstream. That left one vessel.

  Brenner ran the final fifty yards to the last boat, put a hand on it to heave it into the river, when sudden movement to his right caught his attention: Rodick body-slammed into him like a hockey player, rocketing Brenner off his feet.

  “Feels good, don’t it?!” Rodick yelled, then seized the fourth boat.

  In a daze, Brenner scrambled to his feet. Rodick had just pushed off shore and was about to paddle when a tentacle slapped the water in front of him. Rodick shook his head, turned back to shore, and abandoned his boat, which floated downstream. He ran to the rapids on the right side.

  Brenner had two options: chase after and fight Rodick to jump across the rapids, or swim through the river. The fight held zero appeal: he’d either lose the fight, or waste time and lose a glowbe. And the swim—he saw Armin was now using his paddle to both steer and fend off a tentacle—would be madness.

  Those were both terrible. What else can I do?

  He looked left. There was a glowbe past the water, but no rapids, and no stepping stones. The river channel was fifty to a hundred feet across: too far to jump. But could I…run? He remembered how his earliest attempt to run on water had ended in failure. But today…I have the Alacritus potion.

  Grunting startled him from behind. Out of the bushes stomped a smelly warthog…and then another. He bolted left along the river, the herd crashing behind him. Bounding over roots, ferns and rocks, Brenner thought, if Windelm could do it…it’s possible!

  He brought to mind a nature documentary he’d seen long ago, with a green basilisk lizard running across the surface of a stream.

  He pumped his legs hard, gaining speed as he made a cutting curve toward what he hoped was the narrowest section of the river. The tusks of the warthogs scraped rocks behind him. He was at a full out sprint. Focus—on—speed. Here came the last grasses, the sand, the edge, and then—

  Like a thrown pebble, he was skimming across the surface.

  His only thought was to keep moving: be the wind across the water.

  The dark river blurred. His peripheral vision saw something slap the water, but he kept pumping his feet, the other side approaching—twenty feet—ten feet—five feet—solid ground—made it!

  His amulet radiated heat and magic against his chest; far above, the crowd chanted; he panted, incredulous; somehow only his back and boots were wet. Then his goal came back into focus, and he ran toward the first glowbe.

  While he wouldn’t have to navigate around a reverse-waterfall to get the white glowbe in this clearing, it wouldn’t be a cake-walk, either. The pulsing glowbe was hovering over the middle of a pit, black-as-night. And there were no trees, bridge, or rope around to assist him.

  That left Brenner with a very long jump. Steeling himself, and pumping his legs into another sprint, he tore across the land to the abyss, then at the edge of the pit pushed off with all his might—time seemed to slow as he vaulted up, over darkness; just before mid-arc he hit the glowbe with his right hand, then, with arms and legs wind-milling, he descended down… down…and landed at the earthen edge of the other side, rolling into a somersault to reduce the impact. His body tumbled to a stop. His captured glowbe changed, and now shimmered green.

  Vaguely, he could hear the rumbling applause from the crowd. He climbed a hill, and looked across the terrain: Jace had made it to the island before Armin, gotten past the reverse waterfall, and now that glowbe pulsed violet; on the far side, Rodick must have snagged a glowbe as well, as it shimmered blue. Three glowbes taken…four left.

  He hustled forward. While he couldn’t see the others as he rushed past trees, he sensed that all four were converging into the middle obstacle of the field: the stone ruins. Like the skeleton of a crumbled city, there were marble beams criss-crossing together above rows of colonnades, frames of pyramids, and pillars that looked like strands of DNA coiled on the ground. Although large, the ruins wouldn’t have been too hard to climb through, if it wasn’t for the giant wurm that was lying dormant… somewhere in the labyrinth.

  Brenner entered the ruins from the left, and heard the footsteps and crumbling rock as the others entered off to his right. Jumping over a raised section of pillars, he made the mistake of trying to use a beam as a step. His foot slipped on its polished surface, and he l
anded hard on his side. A dull ache spread along his waist.

  As he lifted himself up, he heard what sounded like tree trunks snapping, and then the ground shook.

  Up ahead, columns smashed down into one another, causing clouds of dust that masked the field. He hastened to his feet and continued weaving through the ruins. He heard his opponents gaining ground ahead of him.

  Dodging around fallen columns, Brenner advanced to the middle ruins, when out from the dust-cloud a wurm-coil came whipping at him. Brenner ducked—and it whistled over his head and smashed into a row of pillars, shattering them as if they were nothing more than bowling pins.

  Brenner followed the outline of the thick coil another hundred feet until he saw the ferocious head of the landwurm. With yellow fangs bared, its dusty face looked like a wrathful cobra.