by Brandon Mull
“We know Seth is in Humburgh?” Newel asked.
“We suspect he is,” Kendra said. “It is a large town, and this will be a challenging job. If you find him, he might not be happy to see you.”
“I’ll do it,” Knox said. “I was worried you were going to give me busywork or something. Finding Seth is the main reason I came here. You can count on me.”
“And as long as Knox takes full responsibility, we’re in too,” Newel said.
“I really want to see Seth again,” Doren said. “Even if his memories are wiped.”
“I’ll go too,” Tess said.
“Good,” Vanessa said. “Your sensitivity to magic will be an asset there.”
“There are other pressures to worry about,” Tanu said. “The Perennial Storm will hit Titan Valley within a day or two.”
“Are you kidding?” Doren exclaimed.
“I wish,” Tanu said. “It’s a magical storm of unfathomable power.”
“I know,” Doren said. “I remember cowering in a shelter during the Perennial Storm years ago. My uncle Igor disappeared in that storm.”
“We have reason to fear Ronodin has plans against Titan Valley,” Vanessa said. “He earned the Giant Queen’s favor and was here not long ago.”
“And we got news this morning that Polar Plains has fallen,” Warren said. “The more dragon sanctuaries fall, the more Titan Valley becomes the main target.”
“And the more dragons can join the fight,” Tanu said.
“When do we put this plan into action?” Knox asked.
“Now,” Kendra said. “Gather whatever you want to bring. Warren, Tanu, Vanessa, and I will see you off, and then we will depart as well. We’re out of time.”
“I was just beginning to worry today would be boring,” Knox said.
A steady breeze flowed from the west, sometimes gusting enough to make the flags and banners along the street flutter and snap, or even to blow off hats. Seth made his way down the avenue alongside Virgil, with the invisible presence of Reggie nearby.
“Are there magical barriers or sensors that could block Reggie from getting inside?” Seth asked.
“He is technically part of somebody who resides in the coliseum,” Virgil said. “I don’t see how anyone could protest his entrance. With him traveling formless, the hardest part for the guards might be detecting him in the first place.”
“Worst-case scenario, I still have my pass from the rabbits,” Seth said.
“I doubt you’ll need it,” Virgil replied.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside today?” Seth checked.
“You’ll be working behind the scenes,” Virgil said. “I think my time would be better spent trying to get Calvin an audience with Sable.”
“Excited, Calvin?” Seth asked.
“I don’t have words to explain it,” Calvin said. “Today could be the day I have dreamed of for years.”
“I have a good feeling about it,” Seth said.
The avenue delivered them to the plaza, where crowds were beginning to gather in the morning light. Seth felt jealous of a woman taking a bite of a baked apple dusted with cinnamon. Without warning, a hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind and whipped him around. The grip squeezed as Seth looked up at a dignified older man with steel gray hair and a close-cropped beard. He wore a chain-mail shirt and carried a broadsword.
“Celebrant,” Seth said.
The hand on his shoulder tightened painfully, making Seth crouch a little and arch his back. “Do not utter my name,” Celebrant demanded through lips that barely moved.
“Lighten up or I’ll shout for help,” Seth replied through gritted teeth.
The grip remained firm but stopped being painful.
“You’re still after the stone,” Seth surmised. “You were there in the castle after . . . I forgot myself.”
“You also still hunt the same prize,” Celebrant accused.
“I just want my memories back,” Seth said. “Wait a minute—back at Stormguard Castle, you mentioned somebody who lost an arm.”
“Now two arms,” Celebrant said.
“Her fault,” Seth said. “She tried to kill me. She’s a dragon too?”
Celebrant nodded toward somebody, and a powerful man with a ponytail of brown hair seized Seth by the upper arm. Celebrant kept a hand clamped on his opposite shoulder, and together they marched Seth away from the plaza.
“Wait a minute,” Virgil said, stepping in front of Celebrant.
The Dragon King briskly shoved the satyr to the ground and kept walking.
“Help!” Seth shouted, but before he could call out again, the man with the ponytail covered his mouth. Seth thrashed, but the men holding him were too strong.
Shall I intervene, Master? Reggie asked.
“Yes,” Seth yelled as best he could into the palm over his mouth, jerking his head in a nod.
The guy with the ponytail lost hold of Seth and sailed through the air, landing in a tumble. Celebrant launched sideways, bouncing and sliding over the cobbles of the plaza, bowling over a young couple who had been holding hands.
“Stay on them,” Seth called as people cleared away from the supernatural fight.
“Get him, Kerzian,” Celebrant ordered.
The man with the ponytail charged at Seth but seemed to collide with an invisible wall. He barely had time to register his surprise before he was hurled backward, his body skipping a long distance over the cobblestones.
Celebrant regained his feet and faced Seth, hand on the hilt of his sword. “You are making the wrong enemies, whelp,” Celebrant threatened.
“So are you, grandpa,” Seth replied.
As Celebrant started to draw his sword, his legs lurched sideways, and he slammed down violently, the metal of his sword and armor ringing against the timeworn stone.
“Prevent those two from following me,” Seth instructed. “Then come find me.”
Consider it done, Reggie replied.
Seth hurried swiftly toward the nearest of the arena entrances. Virgil came up beside him. “Sorry I was little help back there,” the satyr apologized. “I’m not much of a fighter.”
“It’s all right,” Seth said.
“It’s almost too bad you can’t keep Reggie in his present form,” Virgil said. “He’s quite powerful.”
“He deserves to be restored to his body,” Seth said.
“It’s true,” Virgil said. “I’m going to give you some space. I’ll watch with Calvin until you’re safely through the entrance.”
Seth took his place at the end of the line, trying not to look over his shoulder too much. He half expected to see Celebrant or Kerzian shoving their way through the crowd, but neither of them materialized. Seth scanned the area with his shadow-charming senses and soon perceived Reggie drifting his way.
They gave up, Reggie communicated once he drew near.
“Stay vigilant,” Seth murmured.
I am, Reggie assured him. They are heading off in a whole different direction.
“They may be back,” Seth whispered.
I’ll remain alert, Reggie promised.
Seth tried to relax as the line inched forward. He felt like he was doing a horrible job of hurrying away from danger. At least Reggie was keeping watch. Finally, Seth reached the front of the line, and a minotaur waved him through the entrance. If the guards noticed Reggie, they gave no sign.
“Still with me?” Seth whispered as he walked along the corridor to the arena.
I’m here, Reggie conveyed.
Seth went through the coral archway at the end of the corridor. The clear day felt warmer than in Humburgh, and the air was placid. Seth entered the coliseum and headed for the ramp down to the underground barracks.
I feel something, Reggie expressed excitedly. S
omeone. A familiar energy.
“Good,” Seth said. “Let’s follow that feeling.”
This way, Reggie expressed.
Seth ignored the crowd and the enticing aromas wafting from food stands. The cheering of the fans faded into the background as he focused on perceiving and following Reggie. They soon reached a gate guarded by a minotaur with a black head and gray fur dappled with dark spots.
The minotaur barred his way with a poleax. “Where are you going?”
Want me to knock him flat? Reggie asked.
“Diplomacy,” Seth whispered.
“What was that?” the minotaur asked.
“I’m visiting some of the gladiators,” Seth said.
The minotaur snorted. “We know about you. Last time you poked around where you didn’t belong. Stick to the common areas.”
“That’s my plan,” Seth said.
The minotaur stepped aside. Staying focused on Reggie’s unseen presence, Seth followed him down a long, gently curving ramp, then to the bottom of some grimy stairs. He traversed cramped halls and descended more stairs to an unfamiliar passageway lined with doors.
We’re near, Reggie communicated.
“Lead on,” Seth said.
Before long, Seth sensed Reggie stop in front of a certain door. In here.
Seth knocked. He was about to knock again when the door opened.
“Seth?” Fenrick asked. “This is a surprise. How did you find me?” He looked freshly bathed, a towel hanging around his neck, his damp hair newly combed.
“I’m surprised too,” Seth said. “You need to hear the story behind it. Can I come in?”
“Only for a minute,” Fenrick said, stepping back. “Two of my trainees face off in the arena shortly. I’m guaranteed a win and a loss today.”
He feels familiar, Reggie enthused.
“He’s part of you,” Seth whispered. “You’re part of him.”
“What was that?” Fenrick asked, tossing his towel beside a laving basin and grabbing a pair of sandals.
“How would you like your memories back?” Seth asked.
“Sure, who wouldn’t?” Fenrick replied. “I know you would.”
“It’s a risk,” Seth said. “Some of it could be heavy.”
Fenrick regarded him more seriously. “I would want to remember.”
“What if I said I had found your memories and brought them here?”
I belong here? Reggie verified.
“I have to admit I wouldn’t believe you,” Fenrick said, strapping on his sandals. “Are they in your pocket?”
“I named your memories Reggie,” Seth said. “They got lost without you. I think it will make sense once you’re reunited.”
“Are you serious?” Fenrick asked.
“Reggie, you wanted me to tell you who you are,” Seth said. “You’re not dirt. You’re Fenrick. You’re an important part of him.”
Seth felt Reggie surge at Fenrick, who fell to his knees, waving his hands as if he were being attacked by bats. “What’s happening?” Fenrick cried.
I . . . can’t . . . become him, Reggie conveyed with frustration.
Seth could sense Reggie pressing against an unseen barrier. Apparently Fenrick could feel it as well.
“Stop pushing, Reggie,” Seth said. “Fenrick, I think you have to invite your memories in.”
“That force is my memories?” Fenrick asked. “What’s your game? I felt under attack.” He rose and retrieved a short sword, pointing it at Seth.
“Your memories exist separately from you right now,” Seth explained. “Like a phantom. I found them on my way here. I’m helping you the way I wish somebody would help me.”
“You really believe this?” Fenrick asked.
“It was confirmed by the Diviner,” Seth said.
“I don’t know who that is,” Fenrick said. “But, all right, phantom, if you really are my memories, I invite you to return.” He spread his arms wide.
Seth sensed Reggie dissolving into Fenrick.
Fenrick swayed, his sword clattering to the floor. He closed his eyes, fingers pressed against his temples, then dropped to one knee, head bowed. After a moment, he looked up at Seth.
“No,” he whispered, eyes darting. “I don’t believe it. All this time.”
“What?” Seth asked.
Fenrick closed his eyes tightly, sweat beading on his brow. “Please . . . allow me a moment. This isn’t happening. How could . . . ? Wait, of course.” He laughed nervously. “No. No, no, no. I can hardly . . . it’s like waking from a long sleep. From a coma. No, it’s like nothing else. Master, I mean Seth, I need a moment.”
Fenrick arose, then walked into a neighboring room, muttering to himself. Seth heard him pounding a mattress.
Seth waited, hoping Fenrick was okay.
“I can’t believe it,” Fenrick mumbled in astonishment, apparently to himself. “This is too much to absorb.” Seth was pretty sure Fenrick started weeping.
Seth remained respectfully quiet.
After splashing water on his face, Fenrick returned to the room and paused, a new energy about him. He clutched a wooden stake in one hand. “Fenrick was a false name.”
“Were you aware?” Seth asked.
“I had no idea,” he said. “My name is Merek. And I have lived for a long time.”
“You were in the Games?” Seth asked.
Merek grinned. “Not on the arena floor. Not ever. Any rumors of that sort were a sham. I came here like you did, Seth. I won one of Humbuggle’s Games in the Necropolis of Antilla, long ago.”
“You won the Wizenstone?” Seth asked.
“I broke a long-standing curse,” Merek said. “I won a chance to learn the true Game. I came here to claim that opportunity.”
“What is the true Game?” Seth asked.
“It’s the surest way to the Wizenstone,” Merek said. “I never found it. To obtain that knowledge, I had to unlock a door, and it cost me my memories. That loss sent me down an alternate path. The senior staff acted like I had elected out of active participation on the floor to become a trainer. Seth, I had no reason to believe otherwise. The more I learned about the Games, the better the story fit. I was Fenrick—a seasoned trainer who could not recall his past.”
“But you remember your past now?” Seth asked.
Merek nodded thoughtfully. “I have lived my life in many stages and accomplished deeds you could scarcely imagine. My identity has gone out of focus on other occasions—part of the price of immortality.”
“You’re immortal?” Seth asked.
“Almost,” Merek said. “My father was known as the Legender, and for centuries, I have served in times of need as one of the legendary Dragon Slayers.”
You kill dragons?” Seth asked.
“Do you know the story of the Legender?” Merek asked.
Seth shrugged. “Maybe I did once. I lost my memories.”
“Five legendary Dragon Slayers helped win the dragon war,” Merek said. “I am one of them.”
“Doesn’t every dragon sanctuary have a Dragon Slayer?” Seth asked.
“Anyone who has killed a dragon is a Dragon Slayer,” Merek said. “Every sanctuary has a resident Dragon Slayer to assist in emergencies. Apart from all the rest, there are five legendary Dragon Slayers, so-called because that group includes the Legender and his four children. I hoped to win the Wizenstone to better protect the world, and to keep it out of evil hands.”
“Just be careful picking it up,” Seth said. “I saw two guys try, and they got vaporized.”
“You’ve seen it?” Merek asked.
“My sister used magic to send it away,” Seth said. “That choice broke the curse at Stormguard Castle.”
“And now you’re here,” Merek said.
“Hunting for my m
emories,” Seth said. “You’ve really slain dragons?”
Merek gave a little chuckle. “You have no idea. Unless . . . confession time—did you have any inkling about my true identity?”
“I still don’t,” Seth said. “I lost my memories by opening a door as well. Or so I’m told.”
“At Stormguard Castle,” Merek said. “Seth, among all of my memories, I also remember traveling with you as Reggie. I believe in your sincerity. Do you wish to join me in the quest for the Wizenstone?”
“If it might help me find my memories,” Seth said.
“At the very least, it should lead us to Humbuggle,” Merek said. “Wait here for a moment?”
“Sure.”
Merek went into the other room. Seth picked up the short sword the Dragon Slayer had dropped and practiced swinging it. The weight felt good in his hand.
“Keep that, if you like,” Merek said, returning to the room as he buckled a sword at his waist. The stake he had held was in a sheath on the other side of the belt. He had put on some leather armor. “Change of plans. I’m not watching fights today. Or ever again.”
“You can just walk away?” Seth asked.
“I never intended to be a trainer here,” Merek said. “I didn’t vow to be a combatant in these games. I could have walked away at any time. I just never realized I could.”
“Do all of those memories feel like an overload?” Seth asked.
“Yes!” Merek said. “It’s simply too much to absorb. And such a spectrum, triumph and failure, joy and misery. The more recent recollections are freshest. Including you convincing me to make dirt my physical vehicle. I remember Hermo, Virgil, and Calvin. And the latest rounds of training here at the coliseum. Together with my long history, it all fused into one. I’ll be trying to catch up to what I know as the days pass.”
“Where are we going?” Seth asked.
“Back where I intended to go when I first arrived,” Merek said. “To learn the most direct path to the Wizenstone. The secret Game, hidden among the others.”
“I can come?” Seth asked.
“You have done me a great service,” Merek said. “I mean to return the favor. You’re welcome to join me, shadow charmer.”