by A. L. Knorr
“Of course. Zafer Guzelköy, this is Gage Wendig.”
“I remember you from the initial meeting, but we never met. Hello.” Guzelköy shook Gage’s hand.
Gage greeted Guzelköy and said hello to Basil, whom he’d updated about Ryan during the afternoon.
“This is about the final event.” Guzelköy settled into his chair, eyes on me. “If you want we can speak privately?”
“That’s not necessary,” I replied, my pulse picking up its pace. “What about it?”
“Since there are only two competitors left, we’re not calling a prep meeting, just keeping things informal. The final event will take place tomorrow. The gym is ready.”
I swallowed and nodded. It had only been four days since the escape room. “It’s come up fast.”
“We have an efficient team,” Guzelköy said with a smile. He tapped the ends of his blunt fingers on the tabletop, never still. “I think you already know, since you were at the committee meeting, that this final event pits you and Eira against one another in hand-to-hand combat?”
I nodded, taking a sip of water to moisten my mouth.
“The gym has been turned into a set, of sorts. A varied terrain with features that you can use to gain an advantage. Naturally, you’re permitted to use your supernatural abilities throughout, but you must keep all engagement non-lethal. Sorry to state the obvious.”
I nodded. “What’s the objective?”
“You’ll start on opposite sides of the gym; in the middle of the course is a platform,” Guzelköy said, tapping on the table. “It’s outfitted with four cuffs. Your objective is to get Eira into those cuffs to win the challenge. Likewise, her objective is to get you locked down. We think you’ll agree there cannot be a stalemate with this challenge, so there is no time limit.”
“Can she use weapons?” Gage asked, leaning his elbows on the table and looking far too relaxed for this conversation.
“No weapons allowed,” Guzelköy said with a slice of his hand through the air. “The competitors have plenty of offensive force available to them without bringing weapons and tools into the mix.”
“What about parts of the terrain? Could she use something from the surroundings against her opponent?”
“By and large, no,” Guzelköy said, “the terrain and features are not to be used that way.”
“By and large?” Dr. Price said. “What does by and large mean? Is there an exception?”
Guzelköy wobbled his head back and forth. “When we designed it, we tried to use only materials and features that a fire mage wouldn’t use in combat under normal circumstances. Almost everything is fire-proof and fixed. Most of the design features have been ready since the start and could not be altered. It has come to light after the fact, however, that there is one feature that might be utilized as a weapon without breaking game rules.”
As he made this little speech, his words slowed down and his gaze shifted around the table. He paused as though needing time to think.
“Are you going to tell us what you’re talking about, or are you going to make her find out tomorrow?” Basil asked, shoving his glasses up his nose.
“I’m not sure if I can. Give me a moment to consult with Davazlar? If he’s told your opponent, then I can give you that detail as well.” He got up and fished a phone out of his jacket. I guessed their telepathy only worked in close contact. Moving away from the table, he dialed his partner.
We waited while Guzelköy murmured into his phone. The call lasted maybe five seconds before the game-maker hung up and returned to us, not sitting down again.
“It’s a water-feature,” he said.
“Water?” I parroted, feeling stupid. It wasn’t immediately apparent to me how water might be used as a weapon between two fire mages. A mage could heat water up, make it boil, turn it into steam, but hot water wouldn’t actually harm a mage, whose skin was impervious to heat at temperatures far above that of boiling water. I supposed the steam could be used to cloud the air, reducing visibility.
Basil and Dr. Price shared a look I didn’t like, but couldn’t put my finger on why.
“Any other questions?” Guzelköy said, sounding cheerful as he dropped his cell phone into its pocket.
“I’m sorry,” Gage said. “I’m a little slow. How exactly can Saxony use the water as a weapon? Even hot water isn’t much use in a battle with a fellow mage.”
“Sorry, I’m not permitted to say anything more about it.” Guzelköy’s gaze fell on me. “Saxony? Any questions?”
“What time?” I asked.
“Ah, yes. I didn’t say, did I? Sorry. You’re to meet me outside the fire-gym doors at ten minutes to ten tomorrow morning. Anything else?”
Feeling spaced out, I shook my head, still wondering what the look Basil and Christy had exchanged was all about.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Guzelköy wished me good luck, dismissed himself and left the cafeteria at a brisk walk.
“Strange,” muttered Gage, exchanging a look with Cecily. “I don’t get it. Do you?”
Cecily shook her head.
“I think I do, now,” I said, my voice sounding dry and looking from Basil to Christy and back again. “You both know what that was all about but you can’t say.”
“I’m sorry, Saxony,” said Dr. Price, looking glum.
Basil dropped his head and sighed, looking into the crooks of his crossed arms.
“Still not getting it,” murmured Gage.
“Guzelköy would never have mentioned the water-feature if this fight was between two fire magi, but he had to mention it because Eira is a fire mage and something else. Something that makes it easier for her to leverage water into a weapon than if she were pure fire elemental.”
Gage’s eyes grew wide, looking from Christy to Basil and back again. “Is she right?”
“They can’t say,” I said, frowning. “But they know that I’m going into this at a disadvantage, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
I looked at Basil. “Should I try to call Targa?” Seeing confused looks around the table, I added, “A friend who is a water elemental.”
“That wouldn’t do much good, I’m afraid,” replied Basil, looking miserable.
I took his response to mean that he didn’t suspect Eira was a siren. So what did he suspect she was?
Twenty-Six
The Final Challenge
My heart was steady but my stomach was in knots. I stood on a platform near the ceiling of the fire-gym, listening to the sound of my breathing as it echoed off the walls of my starting box. I wondered if I had ever felt as alone as I did in this moment. A surge of longing for my parents rose in my breast and I put a hand over my heart. What was it about being nervous that made one revert to a state of child-like ache for the safety of home? I’d been in many nerve-wracking situations in my short life, but this challenge felt more serious than the rest, and I hadn’t even seen the gym yet.
Feeling like I had to move or I’d go crazy, I knelt to retie my fireproof boots. My hands moved systematically. I straightened, plucking at my vest and fireproof pants.
A shaft of light appeared by my feet. The door at the end of the platform rose, revealing the artificial world the game-makers had created. Stepping forward as the gym came into view, my gaze was drawn to the small figure of Eira where she stood on a platform just like mine, directly across from me.
Her body was encased in black clothing, her pale face and even paler hair stood out like disembodied parts. We locked eyes, stepping to the edge of the platform, then surveyed the terrain below. Our own private battleground.
The game-makers had manufactured a city skyline, and harbor still under construction. I-beams and the arms of cranes with dangling chains and hooks crisscrossed the air. The climbing walls had been unfastened from one another and placed in a staggered line along the far side of the harbor, making artificial building exteriors too bizarre to be real. I recognized the wrought-iron balconies, the bric
k wall, and the nylon ropes. One wall looked like a building taken over by nature, choked with tree branches, vines and roots, leaving a tangled green mass. Leaves fluttered gently in the artificial wind. Air was being circulated by the gym’s powerful ventilation system. It smelled earthy but artificial at the same time. Like the outdoors, but laced with the smell of neoprene, rubber and nylon.
The most remarkable part of the engineered landscape was the artificial harbor. Half the gym floor had been lowered, sealed and filled with water, though it couldn’t be more than five feet deep. A red light flashed in my mind upon seeing the harbor and I was reminded of the conversation in the cafeteria yesterday.
Three docks—of different lengths and various materials—stretched out into the water from a road running along the artificial shoreline. Across the road were a string of false shop-fronts. In the harbor sat three miniature vessels, large enough for a couple of people to stand on but scaled down too far to function as actual boats. One craft resembled a narrow speedboat that looked like it would tip over from a single occupant. Another was a fishing trawler with gear extending into the air from the back. The last vessel was a kind of barge stacked with colorful, miniature metal sea-cans. The sea-cans made me think of Gage, which made my heart ache.
Setting thoughts of Gage to the side, my gaze went to the middle of the water. To the platform, the place where the victor would be decided.
It was flat, black and square, large enough for two people to do an exuberant polka without falling off the edge. It looked solid, but hovered above the water by a foot. The sight of four cuffs set into the surface jarred me and I wondered, am I going to throw up?
Crouching, I reached back for a last swig from my water bottle. Swishing the water in my mouth, I swallowed, set my bottle aside and straightened. I felt a little better, but lamented useless questions. Why couldn’t the game-makers have planned something less in-your-face for the final challenge? Less primal. I could defend myself and had good instincts, I thought, but this was different. I needed to be offensive, aggressive, dominating. None of these traits came naturally to me. Somehow, I had to manufacture them … synthesize them from nothing.
My gaze lifted to the observation pods where I made out the silhouettes of Basil, Christy, Gage, Mr. Bunting and Babs. In the other pod sat Guzelköy and Davazlar.
I wondered if they’d speak to us over the intercom with some final words of advice or wisdom. The sound of an amplified chime blasting from the speakers gave me my answer. There would be no final words. The game had begun.
My pulse quickened as my gaze fastened on Eira. She didn’t move. Was she expecting me to make the first move?
I took a steadying breath, the blood rushing past my eardrums loud enough to hear. All I had to do was get her into those cuffs. Tomio’s voice rang in my memory: Make chaos for your opponent.
Make chaos? How? I hated chaos. I didn’t even like it when my library shelf was out of alphabetical order. Why hadn’t I asked him to elaborate on that instruction?
A flash of fury licked through me. Not at Tomio, but at the game-makers. They had no business setting Eira and me against one another in this barbaric manner. But it wasn’t the game-makers fault, either. This was Babs’ doing. She was the one who wanted a show. That’s why all the effort had gone into making this artificial arena. They could have used the VR, where the stakes were real but no one would get hurt.
I shook myself and thought of Dante, what he’d done to me, what he’d done to Federica. That had been worse than this, surely. He’d almost killed me. If I could deal with that then I could deal with this. What right did I have to dream of working for the Agency if I couldn’t handle a little combat?
Eira moved, preparing to jump.
Suddenly, I wanted to move first. I already knew that her plan for me was the same as my plan for her. Neither of us could strategize until we had engaged and seen how each of us fought. I gulped, turned off my brain, cranked up my fire, and leapt.
Detonating in every joint down my right side, I vaulted across space to land on the arm of a crane. I caught a flash of Eira’s hair as she went for the closest stable structure, the top of a climbing wall. The one festooned with brightly colored ropes.
Scampering to the end of the crane with my arms out for balance, I dropped over the side. The cold metal chains slid under my hands until I latched, halting my fall. Hand under hand, I fed the chains through my grip in a controlled descent. Slow-burn alternated from one shoulder to another in smooth liquid bursts of heat. I reached the hook to dangle twenty feet above water. Looping a hand over the large iron hook, I locked my grip. A few forceful swings were enough to bring me close enough to the stack of sea-cans.
I let go.
My stomach lurched up through my throat. It was a long drop but the landing came quickly. Too quickly. Mis-timing my detonations, I hit hard and rolled my ankle. Gritting my teeth, I ate the pain and looked for Eira.
She was running along the water. I blinked and stared. Her movements were jerky and strange. It rose gooseflesh on my body to watch her.
She’d soon round the artificial bay and reach the road in front of the shops. I wanted to get there first, but… what was with her body? The way she moved rattled me. Maybe that was the intention. I ignored the desire to shudder, calculating the distance to the road. It was far, but if I detonated just right this time…
Backing up as far along the containers as I could get, I exploded into a sprint. Reaching the end, I detonated so powerfully I could hear soft popping sounds reverberating in my eardrums. Water sailed by beneath me, my eyes teared up against the wind.
I landed on an exhalation and dropped into a forward roll, going too fast to just stop. A flash of blond hair to my right made my heart leap. She loomed, speeding up. Now she was too close.
She attacked!
Acting on pure instinct, I detonated as I came to my feet, shooting into the air as Eira flew by beneath me, hands grasping empty air. Still airborne, I cocked an arm and released a fireball at her back, intending to give myself time to land and orient.
With a thwap against her fireproof jacket, Eira staggered forward as if shoved from behind. With those jerky movements, she arrested momentum and whirled as I landed.
Gone was the sweet doll-face, the demure expression. Her upper lip curled in a snarl, one eye glowed red while the other was piercing white. I didn’t have time to absorb her fierce appearance. She cocked her own arm back and, with a scream, released a shower of projectiles.
I put a hand up and ducked, protecting my face, not knowing what to expect. They weren’t fireballs she’d thrown.
I gave a cry as my skin was blasted with tiny sharp objects: ice pellets. When it ended, I looked up. Water dripped from my eyelashes. My face stung like it had scraped along an iceberg. My hair dripped and my clothing was damp. On the floor around me lay a scattering of melting pellets.
That was how water was her weapon.
With a flare of heat, I could steam away most of the moisture but there wasn’t time to do that and defend myself and it wasn’t like being wet was a problem. It was the ice-pellets that were dangerous.
Panting, I wiped my face and reassessed my opponent. My hand came away with traces of blood.
Eira stood there with her hands up, grim and determined. My lantern gaze clashed with her red and white one.
“You’re a fraud,” I growled. “Is that what Babs teaches her students? To use deceit?”
“Don’t be naive,” she hissed. “In the real world, the best deceiver wins.” Then she came at me, charging like a mechanical ram.
Fire blossomed in my torso, filling every limb with explosive power. It raced up my neck and crackled across the top of my scalp. I was ready.
Rational thought got checked. Fire blossomed in beautiful sequences, an orchestra of impeding violence. I blocked fists and feet, sent my own punches, kicks and thrusts. Arms collided, shins clashed. Neither of us landed clean blows. She was hardly ever where I
expected her to be. Eira’s frame and limbs moved fast but not smoothly. She jerked around like a stop-motion puppet. It was unnerving, and impossible to predict where she’d be next.
She went for a hold on my upper arms, I broke it and made to sweep her off her feet. She jumped, jerked away, moved in. I tried to knock her into the water, she used my strike to pony me off my feet. I got an arm through her legs and lifted, detonating in my shoulder and back. She rolled in my grip, using me as a vault. She summersaulted and landed on her feet.
Still, my hopes lifted. As our battle continued, it became apparent that I was faster, more precise.
She sent another shower of ice pellets that took me off-guard and half-blinded me. I brought a hand up to wipe my eyes as she hit me like a train, full in the side.
My quads flexed and I slid along the neoprene. My ankle struck the edge of the road. I was weightless, then I was floundering, fully submerged in water. She’d thrown me into the harbor.
Thrashing to find the floor and get upright, I gasped for air as I surfaced, hair sticking to my cheek. My skin stung with a burning sensation not like that of fire. I was sure I had multiple lacerations across the side of my face; even my ear was burning.
Eira knelt at the water’s edge, a smug smile on those petal pink lips. My heart spasmed with fright. I knew what was coming and thrashed away from her as quickly as I could.
She put a hand in the water.
A sharp crackling sound cut through the air. The water’s edge turned a brilliant white where she touched it, then spread rapidly, advancing toward me.
Ice closed around me and beyond, stilling all movement and locking around my shoulders. It wrapped me up like a huge snake, a python, squeezing and squeezing. Ice pressed against my skin, filled every space. The compression increased as it expanded, forcing air from my lungs. My arms locked into place. The unforgiving hand of panic gripped my throat.
My vision blurred, the white and red of her eyes fuzzed and grew, like looming, mismatched headlights. I blinked in an effort to see better. The blood in my body compressed upward. My head pounded.
