by Gina LaManna
Ranger X introduced the Trial Masters, a group of three judges dressed in all black robes, masks over their faces. Their identities remained completely anonymous for obvious reasons.
“Let the Trials begin…” Ranger X set the microphone down and stepped back.
The three judges strode to the center of the arena and moved back to back. Extending their hands, they spoke in low tones, raising their arms in sync with their words.
Black smoke rose from the outer edges of the pitch, masking the arena in clouds so thick I could taste bitter metallic flavors. Since I couldn’t see anyway, I closed my eyes and waited.
It was only a minute before the smoke vanished as quickly as it’d arrived. I coughed and blinked a few times, along with those around me were also coughing, waving their hands, and struggling to see. When my sight finally returned, I blinked a few more times, unable to believe my eyes.
Where a patch of empty grass had been moments before, the arena was now filled with a series of obstacles. Flames shot from one end of the playing field, while boulders rolled across the other. Ropes appeared from the sky, seemingly attached to air, and swung violently back and forth over a spike-laden field.
“Omigosh,” Poppy said, then keeled over in a dead faint.
I wouldn’t admit it, but I was glad she fainted first because I was feeling light-headed, too.
“It’s an obstacle course,” Hettie said, rubbing her hands together. “Yippee skippee.”
I bent over my cousin, pulling out a small vial of Antidote that I kept on me. Similar to Advil or Aspirin, it was a potion that had a strong healing vibe for any minor illness, including but not limited to nausea, fainting, cuts, and bruises. A quick sniff and Poppy was back on her feet and straightening her dress in no time.
“Whew,” she said, taking a few deep breaths. “Guess I’m not cut out for this Ranger business.”
I silently agreed. Once I was sure Poppy was fine on her feet, I turned to face the arena. Zin stood on top of a tall pedestal along with the rest of the Candidates, perched in her ready position. I held my breath as Ranger X raised a whistle to his lips and blew, the shrill sound echoing over the silent crowd.
As soon as the first reverberation left his whistle, the Candidates were off, racing through the minefield of obstacles. By the time the sound had faded into the distance, the crowd was going wild.
I froze, a hand clasped over my heart as the scene unfolded before us. No longer was I rooting for Zin to be the best, the fastest, the cleverest—now, I prayed that she would make it out alive.
CHAPTER 5
“How long does the Trial last?” I asked. The large clock on the wall, a magic-enhanced version of a sundial, signaled thirty minutes had passed. “They’ve got to be exhausted.”
“This is nothing.” Hettie waved a hand at the arena. “I once danced for eight hours straight. And that is harder than it sounds. I had blisters for a year, and I think I’m permanently missing a toenail from that night.”
I scrunched up my nose, watching as the Candidates scaled sheer rock faces, hurtled over moving boulders, dodged spurts of fire. “I’m not sure that’s the same thing.”
“Sure it is.” Hettie did a little jig. “My feet were moving just as quick as theirs. Only the fire was missing from my performance. Maybe next time I’ll get a fire-breathing baton. I wonder if there’s a dragon trainer who’d—”
Hettie’s recollections were interrupted by a huge, collective inhalation from the crowd. My heart skipped a few beats as Poppy grasped my arm, squeezing so tight I nearly lost the circulation in my biceps.
On the pitch, one of the Candidates, a handsome man by the name of Dillan Dartmouth, had scaled a wall, the highest wall in the arena, when a pile of boulders hurtled at him out of nowhere.
The boulders rolled from the far side of the arena, crushing paths in the grass, taking down small trees as they went. If the rocks hit the wall, the whole thing would surely crumble, and the Candidate would go down in a heap of rubble.
Dillan wobbled at the top, trying to steady himself and get a firm grip where he stood. He was in the lead, the rest of the Candidates lagging so far behind they’d never catch up. He stood alone, trapped. I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t—nobody could.
I was actually thankful that Zin had struggled to cross the rope mine—a section of the course filled with heavy strings dangling from the sky. Spikes poked up from the ground below, forcing the Candidates to swing straight through.
The first boulder hit the wall with a resounding thud. Dillan wobbled, bending in half to grip the slick wall with his fingers. The second boulder hit shortly after, jolting him from his perch. He fell off the side, his fingers grasping at the wall, white as bone.
Poppy screamed as he swung. Dillan groped futilely at the air with his free hand while his grip with the other weakened. When the third boulder hit, the impact was too much, and he lost what little hold he had on the wall. With a gut-wrenching cry, he began to fall.
I shut my eyes and curled my body into Poppy’s. I couldn’t stand to watch, couldn’t stand to listen.
“It’s okay,” Hettie said finally, shaking me by the shoulders. “He’s alive. A bit broken up, but he’ll be fine.”
I peeked through one eyelid at the crowd, not daring to look at the fallen Candidate. “Why is everyone watching? This is horrible!”
“You forget, sugarpants. We have magic.” Hettie winked. “The Healers are on hand, and they’ll get to him quickly. We’re allowed to be a little rougher than your human friends.”
I allowed myself the quickest of glances toward the pitch, relieved to see the Healers had already arrived, strapped Dillan onto a stretcher, and carried him off of the field. Meanwhile the competition raged on.
My nerves, however, had shattered. The possibility of injury—or worse—had become real. Too real. I excused myself from the group to go wait outside. I couldn’t bear to watch the events unfold knowing that Zin was wrapped in the middle of it all. Ranger X had promised to watch out for her, but how? How could he promise that?
I’d stepped halfway out of the box when a patch of red hair caught my attention, stopping me in my tracks. At the far end of the pitch stood two Candidates—Trent, the one with the strange, robotic movements, and a second I didn’t recognize.
They were tucked behind several obstacles that shielded them from Ranger X’s view. I stepped back into the box, swiped a program from the closest seat, and matched the second Candidate’s face to a picture that identified him as Raymon. If I’d seen clearly, Trent had just whispered into Raymon’s ear.
I pushed forward until I reached Hettie’s side, keeping my eyes locked on the scene before me. Trent’s fingers snaked out, grasped Raymon’s hand, and then let go just as quickly.
“Did you guys see that?” I raised a hand to point toward Trent and Raymon. “What is Trent doing?”
Hettie was focused on a section of the course currently sizzling under flames, while Poppy was busy examining her swimsuit tan lines. They looked to where I was pointing, but it was too late. The Candidates had moved on to the next phase in the Trial.
“But why would they stop to talk when flames are shooting everywhere and…”
Poppy looked at me like I was crazy. “Maybe they were saying good luck. It’s not against the rules to talk.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, though something didn’t feel right about it.
Although I’d intended to leave, I couldn’t tear my eyes away this time. Zin and her fellow participants dipped, dodged, and ducked, while Trent and Raymon pressed onward until eventually, Trent pulled ahead and left Raymon behind. The latter’s pace noticeably slowed, turning sluggish as he struggled to climb a tree.
My palms were slick with sweat as Raymon floundered, his arm movements clumsy and slow. When he finally summited the tree, he paused, sucking in oxygen as if he couldn’t catch his breath.
My stomach plunged. If I had a way to contact Ranger X, I would—something fel
t off about this whole thing. The point was moot, however, since X’s Comm device was set to a “Rangers Only” channel to stave off miscellaneous interruptions.
Similarly, the arena had a magic-dampening charm layered over the grasses to prevent the Candidates from using spells. During the public Trials, magic was not allowed for participants or spectators within the arena.
Ranger X stood at the head of the stage, arms crossed, focused thoroughly on the events before him. A sharp gasp rose from the crowd as Raymon reached a hand out to swipe for the first rope dangling from the sky. A sea of spikes rested below, and in order to cross, he’d have to use the swinging ropes.
But he missed the rope entirely.
It shouldn’t have been difficult. Even I could’ve grabbed hold of the first rope but somehow, he missed—an inexcusable miss, considering that all Candidates were preselected, and peak physical fitness was expected from the Candidates at this stage of the Trials.
Even so, the next time he swung he missed again. And then again. Moving at the speed of molasses, he swung a fourth time, spiraling out of control.
He wobbled dangerously, drunkenly, on the edge of the tree branch. As the crowd’s attention focused on Raymon and his struggle to remain upright, the rest of the Candidates were forgotten.
“What is he doing?” Poppy said in horror. “He’s going to fall!”
Raymon reached a hand to his forehead. Sitting down hard, he balanced against the trunk of the tree and let his head sink into his hands, as if whatever was inside was hurting him so badly that he couldn’t see straight.
My chest constricted, and I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, couldn’t respond.
Then a cry so raw, so soulful rattled through the crowd, beginning from Raymon and permeating the arena. Struck silent by fear, I couldn’t move. Ranger X leaped from the stage, hurtling himself across the pitch. He sprinted faster than I’d ever seen him move before, bypassing one obstacle after the next as he raced toward Raymon.
If there were any doubt about X’s physical prowess, it vanished after his showing in the arena. Pure athleticism and grace, he raced past the fire, the darts, the boulders, and pulled up to a stop below the tree where Raymon sat rocking, lost in the pain inside of his head.
Ranger X called up to him several times in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, but Raymon gave no response. Someone in the crowd screamed. And then there was silence.
“Look!” Poppy pointed toward the center of the course in horror, and I turned to find Zin rushing back toward Raymon and Ranger X. She scaled the wall from which Dillan had fallen, moving as fast as she could toward the tree.
A cry froze on my lips as she reached for the ropes and began swinging back through the jungle of spikes. She moved fast, her small figure agile. The rest of the Candidates froze. Except for Trent, who moved onward. Forward. Never once looking behind as he pushed into first place.
Zin was mere feet away from the tree when it happened.
Raymon stilled on the branch for a long moment, a moment that’d be permanently frozen in time. The crowd inhaled as one when Raymon’s body tipped left, farther left, his weight off-balance, and he fell, hurtling to the ground below.
Ranger X moved like lightning. Maybe he’d anticipated the fall, or maybe his reflexes were just that sharp, because he reached the place where Raymon would’ve landed on the spikes in an instant, catching the man’s body.
X grunted under the impact. His knees bent under the weight as he staggered toward a patch of soft-looking grass and laid Raymon down. Kneeling next to him, X gestured for the Healers, who were already halfway there, to come assist.
From my seat far, far away, I could see the blueish tinge of lips, the emptiness across Raymon’s face. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
And then from somewhere deep within the crowd, a female burst into tears, a guttural cry that pierced the sky. She went hysterical, crying and screaming, until someone pulled her away from the auditorium.
But long after she was gone, the weight of her words hung heavy in the air.
“He’s dead.”
CHAPTER 6
The crowd moved as one, a throng of bodies fighting to reach the exits. With the exception of one. While the rest of islanders evacuated, I reached over the edge of the box’s railings, my fingers stretching into the arena as I called for X.
My cries were swallowed by the cacophony rising from the bleachers. The stands sagged under the stampeding feet, but I didn’t move. Ranger X stood below, his eyes scanning the crowds as he blew his whistle and shouted instructions that only the Candidates could hear.
“X!” I yelled. “Please, X—”
My cries were cut short by a tree trunk–sized arm colliding with my stomach, crushing the air from my lungs. My breath whooshed out in a grunt, and before I could speak, someone had flung me over their shoulder and started a march for the exit.
“Apologies, Miss Lily, but you’re coming with me.” The man who’d scooped me up was big—broad-shouldered with lots of dark hair on his head, arms, and chest.
I’d forgotten about the Companion assigned by Ranger X. Companions were shifters of all sorts who went through Ranger training, and then typically entered the field of security, watching over high-risk targets—and now me, apparently.
As it turned out, I’d had more experience with Companions than I’d ever known. Just recently Hettie had explained that the man who I’d assumed was my father wasn’t anything more than a randomly assigned Companion. It’d been a shock, but in retrospect, not as surprising as I’d once thought.
“Put me down,” I said to the big hairball of a man. “I have to talk to Ranger X.”
“I have instructions, Miss. I’m to bring you to the bungalow and stand watch until relieved of my duties.”
“No! This can’t wait. I saw something, and I need to talk to Ranger X.”
As he lumbered forward, I realized he had many distinct mannerisms of a bear. It would also explain the dark hair everywhere. He didn’t stop, so I pounded on his back. Nothing, not even a flinch.
“Hettie,” I called. “Help!”
My grandmother licked her lips as if she wouldn’t mind being strapped across the back of a big, strong man. “Look at that, we’ve got ourselves a lift home.”
“No, Hettie, I need to get down!”
She reached a wrinkled hand out, grasping my wrist with surprising strength. The Companion kept right on marching, and Hettie kept holding on tight. Eventually, she just dragged behind us like a sled.
“Stop, you’re hurting my grandmother,” I said. “She’s old and fragile.”
The Companion looked over his shoulder, surprise blooming on his face when he noticed the gray-haired lady being dragged behind him. “Please let go, Miss Hettie.”
My grandmother ignored him. She was a little old, but not the slightest bit frail, and her spunky spirit made up for the number of years lining her face. Rising onto her tiptoes, she whispered into my ear, “It has started, Lily. The beginning of the end.”
“The end?” I echoed. “The end of what?”
“Don’t fight it, just go with him,” she said. “I’ll explain later.”
“But—” I started to argue, but Hettie pinched the Companion on the behind and shouted for him to giddyup. The Companion lurched forward, leaving my argument trailing in the wind.
I looked for Poppy, X, Mimsey… even Zin, but there were too many faces blurring my view. Finally, we reached the clear pastures beyond the arena, yet he still didn’t listen to my pleas to be set down.
Once at the bungalow, he dropped me inside the door. Then he stood, and he stared. Directly at me.
“Can you at least turn around?” I said. “You’re not even blinking, and it’s freaking me out.”
He had the grace to blush. Without arguing, he turned to face the waters lapping against the shore, his body so large it barricaded the entire doorway.
“May I go o
ut to the bar?” I asked. “I need coffee.”
“No.”
“What if I get customers?”
“They can come inside.”
I slumped in Gus’s normal seat at the storeroom table. My mind spun, working on another argument for why the Companion should leave me alone in my own house. Until my attention was stolen by something else entirely.
On the table sat a flower. A gorgeous, huge bloom—freshly picked, judging by the rich, full scent of the petals. It hadn’t been here when we’d left; I had watched Gus clean up all the ingredients, sweeping the table empty before locking the door behind him.
No one should have been inside the storeroom during the ceremony. Only Gus and I had a key. Everyone else on The Isle had been occupied at the arena, and I was pretty sure Gus wasn’t the flowery type of guy.
My fingers shook as I rested them on the table, bending closer to examine the flower. I used a special examination technique Gus had been teaching me, one which utilized all five senses.
After my examination was complete, I still couldn’t find anything wrong with the flower. It smelled like a flower, it felt like a flower, it looked like a flower… it just didn’t make sense why this flower was on my storeroom table.
On the mainland, we called this flower the lily. The calla lily, to be exact.
Gus had pulled this very same bloom out during my first day on The Isle, except his had been dead—dried petals contained in one of the hundreds of vials on the shelves. Even then, he’d instructed me to never touch it. One of his most valuable flowers, he’d said.
I wondered where this particular one had come from; I’d never seen these blooms on The Isle before. They were rare here, and not readily available.
“What is that?” Gus asked through the doorway. He was hidden behind the Companion’s large frame. “Move, this is my storeroom. Please.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but—” The Companion’s explanation was cut short when Gus raised his cane and poked him in the stomach.
