by A. L. Knorr
She smiled as we approached the doors where Guzelköy stood waiting for me. “You’ll see them yourself soon enough. Good luck, Ms. Cagney.”
She put her hand out to take my bag and I handed it over. Thanking her, I turned to face the game-maker.
Guzelköy had one hand on the fire-gym’s door and his eyes on his watch. “Just one minute.” He flashed a look up at me. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’m about to visit the dentist … but at Disneyworld,” I replied, stretching my arms overhead.
He chuckled. “That’s the most unique answer I’ve ever received to that question.”
“Something to remember me by.”
He nodded, then pulled the door open. “You can go in now. Good luck with the Disney dentist.”
I took a deep breath and stepped forward, ants of nervousness marching in circles around my stomach. A strange pink glow emanated from inside. I’d expected to at least recognize the gym, but that was not the case at all.
The door closed behind me but I hardly noticed, wrinkling my nose at the stench. It wasn’t as offensive as rotten eggs but it was awfully close.
I was in a small, closed off room. In front of me stood two statues, identical but mirror images of one another. They were made of gray stone, probably concrete, and set far enough apart for a person to pass between them, arms outstretched, without touching either of them. Except that passing them was impossible. There was a wall in the way. In fact, there were walls on all sides. I was boxed in with these statues and a bad smell.
The statues were female and dressed in flowing robes and head coverings. They each held a hand outstretched. Looped over each palm was a chain from which dangled a lantern, hanging at the height of the statue’s knee. For me, that was chest level.
The lantern on the right was lit with pink flames. This fire was the only source of light. The statue on the left held a lantern that was not lit.
The task was clear enough, I thought. Light the other lantern to move to the next obstacle.
I approached the unlit lantern and found a dry wick ready. Lighting the end of my finger, I started to bring it to the wick when the difference in the colors of the flames stopped me. My fire was the usual garden-variety amber, the color found in fireplaces and wood-stoves worldwide.
The color of the flame in the other lantern had to be chemical, which explained the smell.
I pulled my hand back, feeling my armpits grow damp. What would happen if I lit the other lantern with fire that didn’t match?
The pink flames shifted in color, settling into a very fetching violet. The rotten-egg stink shifted as well, the smell became sharper, more pungent.
“Well, damn.” I pulled my hand back and let the flame on the end of my finger go out.
I wasn’t off to a good start. Matching the color required alchemy, and I had no clue how to do it. Tension built in my body. I bit my lip, trying not to imagine the look on Basil’s face when I couldn’t pass the very first obstacle of the entire games.
The violet flame shifted to blue. The pungent smell sweetened. It became a cloying perfume that made the back of my throat clench. My thoughts picked up speed.
Guzelköy and Davazlar designed this game to challenge our fire-skills. They knew that there would be some of us who might not know alchemy. Perhaps the colors were shifting through levels of difficulty. If I could have matched the pink, I would have been on my way a long time ago. The violet would be slightly easier, the blue easier yet.
The blue flames flickered, changing to green. The sweetness burned away and the smell sharpened and became metallic, almost burning my nose.
My breathing accelerated as time ticked by. Surely, the very last flame the lantern would produce would be regular old boring amber fire? I watched the lantern, shifting my weight from foot to foot from the nearly unbearable urgency.
The green flames made me think of Ryan’s idle, even if his color was totally different. This green was bright lime, his had been a deep emerald.
The green flickered, changing to yellow. With it came the sharp tang of fresh-cut grass that made me feel dizzy. I tried not to think of the time ticking away, the minutes adding up.
The yellow flames flickered to a bright, unnatural red, the color of blood. When they shifted to orange, I lit my finger again, but hesitated. The orange wasn’t quite right. It was too tangerine, too-neon-bright to be right, and there was a smell like turpentine in the air.
When the tangerine shifted into the color of my fire, I lit the wick with a shaking hand. How much time had I wasted? Part of me wanted to curse the game-makers, part of me wanted to congratulate them on their cleverness, the remaining third dreaded what was ahead. If this was establishing a pattern, penalizing your clock the less advanced your skill, then I might be in big trouble. I’d only made it through one year at Arcturus, and with less than half the normal course-load.
The wick flickered to life, throwing back the shadows. The sound of stone grinding against stone echoed around me as the wall between the two statues moved back and then slid to the right, revealing a dark corridor.
Heart thumping, I wiped the sweat away from my brow and stepped through the opening. I took a deep breath of unscented air as the stone wall slid closed behind me.
There was no going back now.
Thirteen
Traps, Tools & Time
My eyes adjusted to the gloom of the corridor as the light from the lanterns faded away. A strange dim light—as if from the glow of some hidden exit sign like you find in cinemas—came from high above my head. Looking up, I realized there were steps ascending before me, steps that had been constructed with a giant in mind. Each stair was twice my height, but it wasn’t the height of the steps that concerned me. I could clear them using detonation, which this obstacle was modeled specifically to challenge. It was the fact that the ceiling followed the stairs, keeping the same height consistently. The construction resulted in a zigzag pattern, it was more like a tunnel full of right angles than a set of steps.
I could only make out three of these huge steps, what was beyond that was blocked from view. If I detonated too little, I wouldn’t clear the step. If I detonated too hard, I’d smack my head on the ceiling, or even knock myself out.
I blew out a breath, firing up along my muscles and joints.
With measured explosions, I vaulted high enough to hook my hands over the lip of the first step. Slow-burn energy hardened in my knuckles as I swung a leg up and over the edge. I had to roll like a log a few times before I had enough clearance to stand. I got to my feet and approached the next step.
I repeated this process five more times, narrowly avoiding the roof and rolling like a log each time. At the fifth step I saw the source of light. It was an actual exit sign, backlit with a white halogen bulb and positioned over top of a black doorway with no visible knob. A stenciled sign read ‘Stage Door’.
I studied the door. Running my hand along the jamb, I pressed against the edges. On the right side it didn’t budge, but on the left it swung open. The moment the door opened, the sound of crickets chirping began. I stepped through and looked around.
Artificial stars glittered down from the fire-gym’s ceiling several feet above my head. Before me was a plain black expanse with even blacker polka-dots scattered randomly across it all the way to the far wall some sixty meters away.
An owl hooted and the sounds of rodents running in invisible underbrush made my forearms prickle. I squinted at the strange, perfectly flat terrain, registering that the black circles weren’t polka-dots. They were holes. Holes about the same size as the manhole I’d descended to rescue Ryan.
It wasn’t immediately clear what I was supposed to do until a light in the distance turned on. An arrow, blinking and pointing to the right.
I’d been standing here for too long. Pulse picking up, I stepped a foot down onto the platform, intending to beeline past the holes to the other side. The pure darkness of them sent a shot of adrenaline into m
y blood. I imagined huge toothy worms snaking out of those holes to snatch me and drag me into their den. But, putting my weight onto the ‘stage’ and taking it off my back foot showed me pretty quickly that this challenge was not about worms.
I loosed a bloodcurdling scream, a combination of fear and exhilaration, as the entire floor moved beneath me.
Arms flailing, I staggered back to the safety of the door where there was a foot’s width of solid surface. I had to jump to catch it as the floor swung downward. Grabbing the lip, I hauled myself up, chest heaving as I navigated my way to standing on the narrow ledge.
I let out a shaky laugh of relief as I turned and watched the floor with the holes level itself. Now that I’d removed my weight, it returned to perfectly balanced. The entire stage had to be suspended on hinges or casters. It was just like those old wooden maze games where you controlled the tilt in order to get the marble through the maze without sinking it.
“I get it.” I put my palms together and rubbed them vigorously as I eyeballed the blinking arrow. “I’m the marble.”
The trick would be … well, there was no trick. Try to get across the floor without falling into a hole. The fact that I had no idea what I’d land on or in if I did fall added further adrenaline to my bloodstream. My hands were shaking, but my pulse was pounding with excitement.
I couldn’t detonate after I stepped onto the maze, that might make the whole floor vertical or even make it turn over completely, dumping me into whatever was below. I could only detonate once, from the solid lip on which I presently stood. After that, detonations would mostly work against me. My first step would have to get me as far on the floor as possible, after that, I’d just have to scramble.
Hinging at the hips, I cocked my arms back for a double-legged jump, and fired.
The sound of wind blew against my eardrums, adding to the backdrop of cheerful crickets and hooting owls, as I vaulted toward the center of the gameboard. I’d aimed to land between two holes, not quite at the center line. Landing in a half-squat, I shrieked as the ground dropped when my weight came down, but it didn’t swing as wildly as it had before. Still, I staggered for balance as the board tipped me toward a hole. The black, yawning space made my stomach leap into my mouth as I tried to step away from it.
It was impossible to stay upright. I hit the floor, unable to stop myself from rolling. Lifting my legs as I slid along on one hip toward a hole, I stretched my toes out and cringed, reached across space. The soles of my shoes caught the far edge of the hole as my outstretched arms braced either side. The ground beneath my hip vanished, my torso hung suspended by my limbs. Slow-burn lit through the back of my shoulders and in my hips as I made my body taut to keep from falling. The floor swung, slowed, then settled, not flat but at an angle.
Panting, I eased myself so I could balance on my toes on the lip of the hole. The blinking arrow was out of sight now as the floor had tilted up and covered it, but I knew where I was headed.
Only now I was in a bind. How to get off this hole when there were no holds or anything other than a slick neoprene surface all around me. I craned my neck, scoping out the next closest hole. I’d have to detonate after all, if I wanted any chance of reaching it.
The cricket sound lulled me into a state of concentration as I focused on the lip of the next nearest hole. Aiming to hook my fingers on it and ride the floor back to some approximation of level, since the next hole was nearer the middle of this crazy obstacle, I detonated.
Hands outstretched like a flying squirrel, the floor moved away as my weight left it. Hooking the edge of the next hole with my fingers, I rode the floor down, my stomach forgetting it was part of me and remaining suspended. My weight settled against the neoprene as the floor tilted further, in the other direction this time. I’d overshot center.
I slid straight for the hole on my belly, letting out another scream. I hadn’t known that I was such a screamer, but this obstacle had the adrenaline level of the Tower of Terror ride at Disneyworld. It seemed impossible not to scream.
Flailing for a grip as the hole loomed under my torso, my fingers clutched at air. Wishing wildly for Felix’s long limbs, I slipped into the hole just like the marble in the game. Then I was falling, but I hit something much sooner than I expected to. Too bad it was a surface just as untrustworthy. It was a large ball and I landed on it with a harsh ‘oof.’ My torso hit first and my legs followed, falling lower than my upper body. My weight caused the ball to roll underneath me. With nothing to hold on to, I was dumped off and dropped onto a second ball suspended just below the first.
I scrambled for a grip but even a fire mage can’t hang on to a smooth slick surface, a perfectly round ball larger than the largest fit-ball I’d ever seen. I rolled and slithered as I failed to get control, dropping from ball to ball and fighting off panic as the faint light from those artificial stars got further and further away.
Helpless, I tumbled like a ragdoll through a set of cartoon gears, all the way to the bottom … the floor of the fire-gym. I landed on my back. Winded, discouraged, and a bit giddy from the pure looniness of this obstacle, I lay catching my breath.
Like a thick cloud of jellyfish, the cluster of balls I’d just fallen down hung suspended above me. It was easy to see which ones I’d struck on the way down, they were still spinning. If I squinted, I could make out a network of iron forks and pins, suspending the balls in space. If I wasn’t so disappointed about having failed the life-sized marble-maze, I would have marveled at the pure engineering genius.
I sat up and looked around. There was no visible exit, but there was light emanating from a strange construction off to the side.
Unsure if I was supposed to try and climb my way out—an impossible task, even for a Burned mage—or if there was another obstacle I had to deal with down here, I got to my feet. Brushing myself off, I headed toward the construction, feeling heat baking off it.
It was a water-feature of sorts, with seven masks lined up in a row over seven basins. Liquid poured from the mouth of each mask, but it wasn’t water, it was molten metal. Even before I stopped in front of the feature, I had identified three of the metals from their color alone.
A streetlamp stood on either side for illumination, and beyond the one on the right stood a little table like the one in Basil’s office. On it sat a carafe of water and a glass. Thankful, I went to it and poured myself a cup of water. As I set down my empty glass I noticed a drawer beneath the tabletop. Cautiously, I opened it. Inside were several pieces of metal, all the identical shape but slightly varied in color. I took one out and held it up in the light of the lamp. Wrinkling my nose, I realized it was shaped like a human tongue.
“Yuck.”
But even as I shuddered, I realized what I had to do.
A subtle whirring sound began somewhere behind the walls. A gentle breeze licked at the hot skin of my cheeks. I looked around and realized that the jellyfish-balls had begun to rotate. All of them. That complicated things further.
I took a breath. One problem at a time. Grabbing the metal tongues, I went over to the masks. Holding one tongue up in the light, I looked at the liquid metal pouring from the mouths of masks and compared their color to the tongue in my hand. The variances were minute, but I’d done a lot of this work with Basil. He’d even told me I was gifted with metals.
I stepped to the third mask, whose drool matched the tongue in my hand, and slipped the tongue into its open mouth. The flow of metal from its mouth ceased.
Encouraged, I moved along the masks, matching tongues to molten drool and sliding each tongue home. When I slid the last tongue home, two things happened simultaneously. The distant engine quit its drone and the wind stopped. I looked up, confirming that the spinning of the balls had slowed and was slowing further even as I watched. There was a loud clank, like a bolt sliding home, and the balls suddenly froze in place.
Below the line of masks, a drawer popped open. It looked like a lockbox at a bank. The box inside had a little
handle. I hooked a finger and pulled it out, feeling its considerable weight. Taking it over to the table with the carafe, I opened the latches on the front and lifted the lid.
Inside were two very thick bracelets, like Viking vambraces, which looped over the thumb and covered from hand to mid-forearm. Spikes jutted from the sides. Sliding one over my right arm, I cinched three thick leather straps with metal buckles. Quivers of energy vibrated in my gut as I pulled on and secured the other one, and approached the nearest ball.
Drawing my hand back, I made a fist and slammed it flat on the ball. THUNK. The tooth at the side of my hand buried itself deep in the ball. It didn’t pop or cave in, just accepted the spike into its side without sacrificing its integrity as a solid object. Pulling on it, I confirmed that the ball was indeed locked in place.
I began to climb.
Fourteen
A Long Drop, A Sudden Stop
By the time I reached the gameboard near the ceiling, I was panting and my clothing was damp with sweat. Tendrils of hair stuck to my cheek, making me itch. I craned my neck, looking up from the underside of the holey landscape. I’d climbed aiming for the blinking arrow, but as I was still underneath, I couldn’t see it. I hoped it hadn’t moved.
I could hear the crickets chirping and the odd hoot of an owl as I hooked one of the spikes in my gauntlet on the edge of the hole above me. Keeping myself balanced on the ball beneath my feet, I pulled and the whole floor tilted down easily. Pulling further, my head emerged and my torso followed it. The lip of the floor against the far wall, struck something and stopped. I tugged, but it had hit its limit.
Crawling the rest of the way out through the hole, I slid flat-footed down the slope toward the wall. The ledge running the circumference of the gameboard was a little too far over my head to reach, so I detonated to catch it, then used slow-burn to pull myself up. The floor swung upward as my weight left it.
