The Games of Ganthrea

by Andy Adams

  “This will only work if we get some cover from behind,” said Brenner. “You can pull the shields back for a rest. We need to hope Alerio and Haggerty catch up to us soon.”

  “They probably don’t even know where we are.”

  Brenner hated to admit Lucas was likely right.

  “We have maybe ten minutes before the knights on the mountain above us come in for a new angle and flush us out,” Brenner said. “When that happens, be ready to create the shield cover. Then let me take first shot, and as soon as I say the word, we fly out, hugging the waterway around the hills.”

  “Okay,” Lucas said, but a heavy sigh betrayed his lack of confidence.

  Brenner’s anxiety only grew as minutes passed, and he watched the angle of shots against them shift: the upper knights must surely be moving down for a clearer shot into the cave. Only then did Brenner realize how tired he was—the game must have been a couple hours in, and he had been channeling elixir for either flight or Arcyndo spells nearly every moment. He tried, without success, to relax his body.

  Spells continued whipping through the entrance. Where were Alerio and Haggerty? There wasn’t much time now. Something else nagged at him. That name, Jarik…he thought…where have I heard that before…oh…that’s right. Sorian. That’s his cousin.

  The red spells were nearly level with them—soon the second squad of knights would have a direct shot. Brenner steadied himself; if he was going to get shot here, he would at least take a Seltick down with him. He scooped the three glowbes behind his shield arm and gripped his mircon, readying for a last ditch shoot-out. Even if we do get past Jarik and the other sharpshooter on the hill, how will we get through the back territory of Boldenskeep, where more enemy reinforcements—?

  Brenner’s thoughts were interrupted by the loudest and strangest war-cry he’d ever heard: “COME and GET SOME, Bald-eeeeez!”

  Haggerty had arrived.

  The pelting of spells outside their cave paused briefly, and Brenner looked urgently at Lucas— “Now!”

  Lucas pivoted his shield out the entrance; Brenner put his below it, creating a larger slot to both see and shoot from, then aimed and shot his mircon across the river canyon toward the two knights, who were busy shooting skyward at Haggerty.

  With pleasure, Brenner saw his spell hit: not the fighters, but the tree-limb above their heads. A loud snap echoed across the canyon—and the branch fell onto the red knights.

  “Let’s fly!” Brenner shouted to Lucas. “Volanti,” he said to himself, and the two rocketed out of the cave, hugging the rocky right side, as the waterway led them around the hills into the flatter center of Boldenskeep’s territory. An island formed in the waterway ahead, but then Brenner’s shield pinged, and he tasted white froth erupting from the river: spells splashed into the water on both sides of them—a sentry was stationed at the highest tree on the island, shooting determinedly at them.

  “Split!” yelled Brenner.

  He banked hard right into a small grove of trees, while Lucas whisked left. He knew that they couldn’t afford to hide out anymore—they had come through an exposed part of the river, and more players had probably seen them than Brenner had accounted for. As he snaked through the woods, flying at waist level around roots, rocks and trunks, he stole glances across the waterway, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lucas.

  A flash of green flickered behind some trunks. There he was. Brenner sent a green spell ten feet above Lucas’ head. Lucas looked through his trees and across the water. Brenner pointed ahead to the edge of the forest, before it gave way to the shrubs bordering the water and island. Lucas nodded.

  The two stealthily flew to the last of the thinning trees. The red knight atop the island tree paused his spellfire, scanning the forest for his foes.

  Brenner met Lucas’ eye. He raised his mircon hand, pointed forward, and counted down his fingers…three…two…one…

  They sprang from cover, fired Arcyndo spells from opposite sides of the island, and flew back to the banks of the waterway. The treetop sentry blocked Brenner’s shots with his shield, only to be stunned by Lucas’, and dropped into the foliage below.

  Soaring quickly up the water channel, they soon flew around the sides and then back of the island—intermittent shots flicked past them, coming from the back crag corners—and then they glided into the last third of Boldenskeep’s territory, which had one last large grove of trees in the center.

  Zooming past the trunks so fast that the woods seemed a brown and green blur—more than a few times did low hanging branches swipe leaves across his face—Brenner and Lucas wove toward the backfield, and closer to Boldenskeep’s tower.

  The tree line thinned for the last time, and Brenner slowed to a rest behind a large trunk. A hundred feet of open ground lay between them and the stone tower, which posted Boldenskeep’s score—52. Unfortunately, there were clear sight-lines up to the crags on both corners, where the last red knights stood, ready to shoot.

  “Okay,” Brenner panted, “Here we go. Last hurdle.”

  “I can’t believe we got this far,” Lucas said in a ragged breath. “Should we fly it together?”

  “That’s what they’ll be expecting,” Brenner said, pointing to the sentries up on either side.

  Loud jeers came from the high ridges, and then, “You think two of you are going to get over our rock walls? Not on your life!”

  “You’re down your king and your healers,” taunted another red knight, “you need all three of our glowbes now—you won’t even get one!”

  Laughter rang out from above. Branches cracked nearby as shots blasted into them. The Boldenskeep knights were trying to get them to act impulsively.

  Not today, Brenner thought, eyeing the tower…did it have one last sentry?

  Spells pulsed through the trees behind them; they’d been followed.

  “Lucas, you need to distract them, far left from here. I’ll take the last leg alone.”

  A shot burst into a tree about twenty feet behind them.

  “Now! Fly!” Brenner said.

  Lucas obeyed, hovering left through the trees.

  Here we go…Brenner thought, breathing hard, waiting for the green spellfire. A dull buzz droned from above. He called to mind the image of aviamirs he had seen whistling through the sky—so fast they seemed like mini-tornadoes. Any moment—

  Above his head, bark blasted off from a red spell coming from behind.

  He jolted sideways.

  “The treetops!” someone yelled. “There!”

  He couldn’t see Lucas, but saw the green Arcyndo spells hitting the crag.

  Now! Brenner blazed forward with his Volanti spell harder than he had in his life: his body made air ripples as it carved forward and twisted—his back to the ground so that his shield could fend off spells from above—shots pelted around him, singeing the hairs on his arms. He curved neared the base of the tower, felt a spell shoot and tingle his foot, immobilizing it.

  He began his ascent up the tower, arcing around it in a tight spiral like a serpent, so that neither side could get an easy tracking shot—thirty feet up—the air formed tears against his eyes—fifty feet—spells now rained down from above—eighty feet—he changed course, spiraled backward, then at last came up and over the tower wall, firing off his own Arcyndo spell—and freezing the sentry on the tower. Out of the corner of his eye, airborne knights zoomed to the tower from the corner crags, firing spells.

  He ducked into the inner part of the tower, lunged toward the small well in the middle, flung wide his shield arm—the back of his mircon hand burned as it was shot—the three glowbes tumbled away from his arm, down into the black hole. Icy shots stung his back.

  “Got him!” someone yelled triumphantly.

  Brenner slumped against the center well, frozen.

  And for a moment, nothing at all happened.

  Then, the stones against Brenner’s body started vibrating.

  A great whistling sound rumbled up from the depths of
the Boldenskeep tower; the vaporous score over Valoria’s own tower shimmered, changing from 19 to 139 points; then a terrific fireworks display screamed past Brenner, skyward from Boldenskeep’s tower, exploding in green clusters of forked-lightning.

  With foot stomps and full-body cheers, the crowd thundered their applause; half a million voices rose into one deafening sound; above it all, in an amplified, giddy voice, an announcer hollered—as though he could not quite believe it himself—

  “Valoria HAS IT! A WIZARD’S GAMBIT for the WIN!”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  An Eve of Sweet Sorrow

  Although his team had lost their king, three healers, and all but two of their knights—a crippling position—Brenner’s gambit had given them a bonus of one hundred and twenty points—more than enough to clinch victory. After officials had sent healing spells to the immobilized players, Sovereign Drusus orchestrated the Zabrani awards ceremony, with each of the Valoria players given their choice of three hundred golders, a leadership position in government, or, for the top five scorers on the team, their choice of elixir.

  As Brenner watched Gemry gladly choose the golders, he considered his options. He already had opportunities for work…which could provide ways to earn golders…but what he couldn’t easily get, and would probably help bolster his skills the most, was the elixir.

  He had two colors that complimented his physical magic—red and green—one that assisted with mental magic—blue—which meant he was missing one area of elixir magic: the Aura. Two colors provided that strength.

  Drusus finished handing his peers contracts for positions and golders, and came to Brenner, eyebrows raised. “What do you choose?”

  “I’d like the yellow elixir.”

  Drusus smiled, “A fine choice.” He pointed to the palette, and amber yellow elixir from Safronius flew out, trickled into his amulet, then swirled mesmerizingly with the three other colors: verdant green, fiery red, and sparkling blue.

  “Quite the collection you’ve got there,” Gemry said, pulling him out of his temporary trance.

  “Brenner,” Maverick called to him over the din of the crowd, “I don’t know how in the world you thought that gambit would work, but I’m glad you went for it.”

  “Thanks,” Brenner said, “but it wouldn’t have worked without these three.” He pointed to Haggerty, Lucas, and Alerio. “And Gemry, for reviving us.”

  “Knights, Gemry—fantastic work out there,” Maverick said, clapping them on the shoulders. Then he turned to address the whole group. “Team, meet with your families, and Haggerty—your new groupies—then meet at the midfield platform in ten minutes for a victory flight.”

  Brenner saw most of the team fly to the middle section of the crowd, and thought he saw a glimpse of Windelm and Sherry waving. He used his Volanti spell to fly him across the field. As he came closer to the section, people held out their hands to him and shouted from all sides:

  “That finish was brilliant!”

  “Haven’t seen a Wizard’s Gambit in decades!”

  “Where’d you learn that speed?!”

  Even more shouted, “Come to Murfayn’s with us! We’ll buy you as many drinks as you want!”

  Before he could reach Windelm, a confident baritone called out to him.

  “Brenner!”

  He paused his hovering, looked over, and saw Dalphon floating in front of the crowd toward him. As he did, one of the fans reached out and grabbed onto Brenner’s foot.

  “Hey, leggo—” Brenner said, trying to kick him off.

  “Let me help,” Dalphon said, muttering a spell which encased the two of them in something like a bubble, cutting out the shouts of the stadium, and causing the fan to let go of Brenner’s foot, recoiling with a shout.

  “That’s better,” said Dalphon.

  “Yeah…thanks,” Brenner said, surprised and grateful for the spell.

  “Allow me to be among the first to congratulate you, Brenner. That was quite the strategy out there. Well done.”

  Brenner smiled.

  “Say, do you recall my earlier offer to work with my merchants?”

  “Yes.”

  “After seeing that finish today, I’d like to multiply it. I can promise five thousand golders for a year’s work with my men in Aquaperni.”

  Brenner’s eyes widened to the size of his amulet.

  “So, what do you say?” Dalphon asked.

  “Well, that…that is very generous…” stammered Brenner.

  “Only the best we can offer. You’re a talented knight.”

  “It sounds excellent…only, can I have a little more time?”

  “You can…certainly. However, my caravan is leaving the city tomorrow; we have business to attend, contracts to uphold. If you’d like to work with us, and develop a reputation for yourself, meet me by the central Arborio fountain within two hours of sunrise.”

  “I might just do that,” Brenner said, nodding.

  “Good,” Dalphon said, and with a flick of his mircon, the bubble encasing them dematerialized. “Look forward to working with you.”

  Dalphon floated back to the crowd, and Brenner continued his flight ahead to the largest section of green supporters, where banners and pennants waved feverishly, and the spectators rose and fell in a giant wave of hands that swept around the honeycombed stadium.

  “Brenner, over here!” a familiar, warm voice rose to his ears.

  Brenner looked over to his left, and saw Windelm and Sherry waving heartily at him. He touched down next to them, and the crowd swayed towards him like the ocean’s tide.

  “Brenner,” Windelm said, putting an arm on his shoulder, “we couldn’t be prouder of you today. Not even in my glory days of Zabrani did I pull off a Wizard’s Gambit.”

  Red warmth spread across Brenner’s cheeks as Windelm spoke. It had been a long time since he’d received so much as a small compliment from his parents. “Thanks, Windelm.”

  “Brenner dear,” said Sherry, giving his arm a pinch, “you had me worried sick when you flew into the lake—we’d thought you’d lost your mind—then we saw you rescue your teammate.” She beamed. “That was your best moment on the field today…”

  “Thank you, Sherry.”

  She smiled at him, and then Windelm said, “We’d love to host you at our cottage in Vale Adorna for the summer break. I know you have your celebrations at Valoria tonight, but you are welcome to come tomorrow after the Fall’s promotions are posted and you finish packing.”

  “We’ve got your room spruced up and everything,” added Sherry.

  “Also,” said Windelm, “what do you think about joining my Silvalo scouting expedition?”

  A crease spread across Brenner’s brow as conflicting emotions tugged at him. “It’s very kind of you both. Only…”

  “Yes?” Sherry said encouragingly.

  “How much do new spellcasters make in a year?”

  Windelm and Sherry looked at each other, and Sherry spoke. “You know we won’t be charging you for lodging, right? One simply doesn’t do that to family.”

  Brenner nodded, “Yeah, I know.”

  “Well,” Windelm said, “low-level apprentices or laborers earn about a fifty golders a year. But a mid-level mage coming out of Valoria could earn probably around eighty to over a hundred golders, provided they obtained a good job in a Leadership Department, Biome Planning, or worked for a Magnate.”

  “I see,” said Brenner. “I’d love to stay with you…it’s just…I’ve been offered a job at five thousand golders.”

  Windelm and Sherry looked at Brenner as if he’d just sprouted wings.

  “That is a very lucrative offer,” Windelm said. “You’d do well to consider it. What’s the job?”

  “Merchant protection and scouting.”

  “That’s fairly typical for winning Zabrani players. But wow, five thousand. Where?”

  “With a company in Aquaperni.”

  “Hmm,” Windelm said, looking as though a stor
mcloud was coming.

  “Any of your teammates going?” asked Sherry.

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “I would be careful,” said Windelm, “That biome is in the far east—”

  “Brenner!” Maverick’s voice shouted to the stands. “We’re waiting on you! Come and join us!”

  “Sorry,” Brenner said. “I better go. Thanks for coming today.”

  “Of course,” said Windelm, and Brenner thought he saw a fleeting, forlorn look in his eyes before they changed to their normal cheer, “Please keep us posted, whatever your choice. We’ll be at Heather Heights until lunch tomorrow.”

  “Great job, Brenner,” Sherry beamed, giving him a firm hug. “Your great-uncle and I couldn’t be prouder.”