Split the Party

by Drew Hayes

  “Is that all?” Gabrielle asked, leaning forward in her seat as she realized the show was about to begin. “For a minute, I thought Grumph was actually in trouble.”

  “I know you have faith in your friend, but he only knows a few spells, and not nearly enough to circumvent all those dangers,” Fritz reminded her.

  Gabrielle shook her head, refusing to take her eyes off the field. “No, Fritz, you don’t get it. I was scared this whole time that he’d be given a test demanding lots of magical knowledge or power, because then, he might have come up lacking. This trial doesn’t outright require any of that, though. All it asks is that Grumph survive and complete his goal.”

  “How do you think he’ll do that with such limited magic?” Fritz asked.

  “I don’t know,” Gabrielle admitted. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking Grumph is the contents of his spell book. My friend was dangerous long before he ever learned to cast.”

  Chapter 24

  Unlike nearly every other mage in the coliseum, Grumph wasn’t wearing robes. Instead, he wore a simple shirt, sturdy pants, and comfortable boots. Dejy had offered to have some proper mage attire crafted for him while they studied, but Grumph had politely declined. Robes were well and good for creating an impression of power and mystery; however, they came up severely lacking in terms of practicality. He might have looked more impressive in robes, but Grumph knew he could actually be more impressive with his usual attire. As he’d walked into the fog-covered field, his instructions hurriedly whispered to him by Talcia before the announcements, Grumph was thankful for this decision. Rough as the task before him already seemed, he could hardly imagine having to do it while tripping over a bunch of flowing fabric.

  It was obvious they were going hard on him with this trial, not that he’d expected any less. When one declared that they would do in mere days what others spent years preparing for, there was a lot of room for egos to get bruised. Someone, somewhere higher up the echelon, wanted to make an example out of him for daring to insinuate that it would be so easy to join the ranks of the other mages. All he could do was hope that they hadn’t gone so far as to rig the whole test to be impossible to pass. As long as Grumph had a legitimate chance, he felt there was hope. A single arrow could slay a dragon, if shot straight through its eye and into the brain. No matter how slim the chances, it could still happen. Grumph clung to that thought as the last vestiges of fog faded and Talcia’s voice filled the air once more.

  “Wizard Grumph, are you ready to begin?”

  With a single motion, Grumph yanked free his demon-bone sword from its sheath, holding it before him with both hands, ready to attack the first thing that came within striking distance.

  “My spells are prepared.”

  Despite this being the proper reply, he could still hear the ripple of uncertainty amidst the mages watching from above. Weapons were allowed in the trials, but most expected them to be the last resort of mages whose mana had run dry. Drawing a blade from the start was unusual, even insulting, to those looking on. Grumph paid them no mind, however. If this caused a ripple, he imagined some would suffer from full-on cases of fainting by the time his trial was done. Talcia, at least, seemed unfazed as he spoke for what would be the last time until a result was rendered.

  “Then I hereby officially commence this wizard’s trial.”

  The words had barely faded before Grumph was off, dashing headlong into the ruined buildings without so much as a single spell of caution or protection cast. It wasn’t as though he’d learned either of those to begin with, and Grumph had decided from the start that he had exactly one strategy available to him that hadn’t existed for the previous test-takers: he was not accustomed to thinking of himself as a mage. Therefore, he reasoned that if he could do things as unwizardly as possible, acting in ways they’d never have anticipated, he might just take the creators of the trial by surprise. It was, obviously, sheer madness and the longest of shots, but it was also the best he had, so Grumph followed through on the plan, barreling past half-eroded buildings as fast as his mighty legs would carry him.

  A real wizard would still be back near the start, casting spells that would shield him from damage or help him avoid danger entirely. The enemies—artificially created magical constructs, as Talcia had explained—would no doubt be trying to move into position, expecting such a late start. Grumph hoped he was sprinting past a great many of them, catching them too off guard to react to a half-orc dashing straight up the middle. It was a strategy that would buy him very little gain, if it even worked, but Grumph had built an entire tavern from the ground up. A little here, a little there, and soon the impossible could be made to take shape.

  His luck held for almost a full minute as he darted through the ruins, cursorily appreciating the amount of effort his fellow mages had put into creating the scenery. Unfortunately, just as he got clear of a small cluster of burned out homes, he hit a massive blast of wind that caught his foot and nearly sent him hurtling into the air. Only Grumph’s weight saved him, as the heft of his body allowed him enough time to fling himself backward, out of the upward tornado’s range. He quickly righted himself and paused for a moment to contemplate the obstacle before him.

  Wrapping around the next section of the runes, for as far as Grumph could see, was a tremendous upward billowing of air. It was ceaseless now that it had begun, shooting up from the ground with such force that even standing too near it made Grumph feel uneasy. He’d barely put more than a toe into the skyward stream and it had taken all he had to yank himself free. Charging through was impossible: he’d be hurtled out of the coliseum entirely, and when he finally came down, even if he survived, he’d have failed the test. Fire and ice spells were of no use, nor was his bucket of water. With no allies to invigorate, the rejuvenating spell was off the table too. He had his new ones, but those took a lot of mana to execute. Grumph knew there would be more obstacles than just a wall of wind before the day was done. An idea tickled the back of his brain. It was risky, and would burn precious mana if it failed, but if he pulled it off, he could get past here with only a single spell.

  The sound of stirring from behind—regrouping enemies, no doubt—made Grumph’s decision for him. Hesitation was not a luxury available to him; only action would see him to victory. With a single wave of his free hand and a few whispered words, Grumph summoned the golden weapon of energy he’d called forth several times before. It appeared as a sword, but Grumph immediately willed it to turn into a spear. The light shimmered and then obeyed, stretching out and taking its new shape. Holding his breath and dropping a prayer to the gods for luck, Grumph stabbed the energy weapon into the fiercely blasting wind, waiting to see if it would be ripped from his hands.

  Instead, there was nothing—not so much as a tug on the massless weapon. The breath inside Grumph came whooshing out in an explosion of relief. He’d noted long ago that this weapon had no weight despite its power to injure when wielded, but he hadn’t known if that would be enough to spare it from the wind-wall’s thunderous blasts. More scuffling from the rear reminded Grumph that while his gambit had worked so far, there was still work to be done. Focusing on the shape of his magical weapon, Grumph pulled it back and changed it to something he’d never had cause to call up before. As the new shape formed in his hand, he heard the first tittering of excitement from the crowd as they realized what he was creating. Grumph ignored them, as well as the sound of approach from behind, instead sheathing his demon sword and swinging his new weapon high overhead. He would likely only get a single shot at this.

  He had to make it count.

  * * *

  “An anchor on a rope,” Fritz muttered under her breath, watching in wonder as the display before her eyes unfolded. “Dejy, has anyone ever gotten past the wind wall using an anchor on a rope?”

  “Can’t say they have,” Dejy replied. “Though I should also add that I can’t recall a time when anyone tried. Most attempt to cast a flying spell and navigate through
, or else try a weak teleport spell, if they’ve got the chops for it.”

  “Do those work?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Depends on the mage. Flying through one of those is pretty hard: takes a lot of control. And the whole field of the coliseum is warded to interfere with teleportation, otherwise these would be too easy. You can break through a ward, but it takes a lot of skill and drains loads of mana,” Fritz explained. Her eyes weren’t on Grumph, but rather on the humanoid figures clattering through the ruins in pursuit of their prey. The things were always bunched up near the start, so Grumph’s sprint had caught them by surprise. His lead was dwindling, though; they’d be on him in moments. Fritz was so caught up in watching Grumph’s pursuers that she actually missed the throw that would be spoken of for weeks afterward amid the mages who were—and those who would falsely claim they had been—at the trial.

  “He hooked it!” Dejy leapt up, completely forgetting his station and raising his arms high in the air. “Fritz, did you see that? He got the anchor around the corner of a building on the other side!”

  “Of course I saw it,” Fritz quickly lied, turning her attention back to the half-orc. It was clear from the glance over his shoulder that Grumph knew time was almost up. With a firm grip on the glowing golden rope in his hands, he gave it a test tug, pulled tight the slack, wrapped it around his forearms, and stepped boldly into the wall of wind.

  He was immediately hurled upward, but stopped after only a few feet, his rope and anchor holding even as the building they were attached to seemed to wobble. A cheer went up from around them, even the mages who were betting on Grumph’s failure forgetting themselves at the impressive display. None of the three who were friends of the half-orc joined them, however. They knew he was far from safe. Grumph still had to pull himself to the other side of the wind.

  And the longer they watched, the more the building he’d hooked seemed to be shaking.

  * * *

  Wind screamed in Grumph’s ears, pulling on them so hard he feared they’d tear away. Never had he been more grateful to be born a half-orc, whose ears were small and close to their skulls. Had he been an elf, he’d likely either be bleeding from the sides of his head or pulled free from his tenuous tether to the ground. Focusing through the pain and sound and terror took nearly every bit of self-control Grumph had.

  He moved his hands slowly, steadily, one at a time over each other as they pulled more of the rope to his body. Tempting as it was to try and hurry down the line to safety, he didn’t have that much faith in the stability of the ruins he’d hooked the anchor to. One good jerk might be enough to yank him free. As it stood, he was already hoping against hope that it would last until he’d finished crossing over. Also that his arms wouldn’t get torn free from his body under the wind’s relentless assault.

  It was impossible to say how long he was stuck in the center of the howling barrier; there was no time in that world, only sound and pain. He might have been in it for only seconds or for several minutes. All he knew was that when his right hand reached out to grab a new section of rope and found itself suddenly beyond the wind, Grumph nearly dropped his lifeline in sheer shock. Recovering quickly, he continued his effort, slowly but surely extricating himself. Now that he was almost out, he could see how close the building was to giving way. He fought against the panic swelling in his brain, screaming at him to hurry things along. He was so close now. This wasn’t the time to lose it all through primal emotions like fear.

  At long last, Grumph fell a short way to the ground on the other side of the wind wall. He lay there for a brief moment, panting as sweat glistened across his dark green skin. The effort had been exhausting, far worse than he’d realized when he was midway through doing it. What he wanted was a good ten minutes to rest comfortably before continuing on his journey. What he got instead was the sound of something moving in the ruins ahead of him, the noise jolting him up from the ground.

  More enemies. Of course there were more—he hadn’t imagined they would only be in the first section—but this time, there was little hope of outrunning them. Even if Grumph had had enough energy on hand to pull it off, he’d taken too long resting once he breached the wall. They’d no doubt gotten into position, blocking off any of the exit routes he might have taken.

  With his right hand, he redrew his demon-bone sword, while with the left, he shifted the form of his golden weapon, turning it into a compact hammer with a sizable head. Weapons in both hands meant casting would be impossible, but Grumph preferred to get a sense of his enemies before resorting to spells anyway. Swinging a blade took no mana, after all.

  The first of the creatures finally burst forth from behind a half-shattered building. It scurried forward on a set of six legs, a long set of curved blades mounted on the front like pincers. Grumph momentarily mistook the thing for a beetle with its wide, flat back and rapid leg movements. Beetles didn’t tend to be a metallic gray in color with glowing magical runes on their backs, though. Nor were their legs and pincers fastened with bolts, and they certainly weren’t the size of well-bred guard dogs.

  More followed the first, at least half a dozen appearing in the span of seconds. Grumph wasted no time, refusing to let them surround him; he charged forward and met the first head-on. Lifting his golden hammer high overhead, he brought it down like he was trying to split the very earth, aiming for the rune that he imagined was the thing’s power source. The blow struck true, slamming into the false-beetle’s back with tremendous force. Instead of sending it to the ground or cracking the rune or even shattering the creature outright, something utterly unexpected happened.

  The golden hammer in Grumph’s hand shimmered once, then fractured into pieces, and finally vanished entirely. Grumph quickly backpedaled, but the creature took the opportunity to advance, slashing at his legs and leaving Grumph with a few shallow cuts for his trouble.

  Grumph turned the situation over in his head several times, trying to understand what had happened while also bringing his blade around to a defensive position. The spell-weapon lacked any kind of physical mass, which was why it had been able to cross the wind wall; that meant the odds of the not-beetle being so tough it shattered the hammer on its own were negligible. The thing had been composed almost entirely of magical energy.

  Grumph nearly stepped back into the wind wall as the truth struck him. This was a test for mages, one meant to show more than their skill with attack spells. What better way to do so than giving them an enemy they couldn’t simply blast into oblivion? As soon as the idea hit him, Grumph knew it had to be right.

  These bladed, deadly creatures he’d been set against were more than mere crafted obstacles. The damned things were also resistant to magic.

  Chapter 25

  “I really hate those little bastards,” Dejy said, watching as Grumph’s weapon was destroyed in a single swing. “Had to fight a few for my own trial. What do they call them? Constroids?”

  “That’s the name for all magically powered creations. This type has a specific term, but damned if I remember what it is,” Fritz corrected.

  “You both seem to be taking the fact that Grumph just lost one of his weapons, along with some flesh from his legs, with a very carefree attitude.” Gabrielle was trying not to get worked up, but as she watched her friend backpedal, trapped between a wall of endless upward wind and seven large machines that were slowly surrounding him, it was hard to keep the worry out of her voice.

  “Constroids are a big pain for most mages because they’re heavily warded to resist magic,” Fritz explained. “Nothing is magic-proof, of course, so some mages beat them by using enough power to blast through the wards. For most, this is a challenge that requires strategic thinking like they’ve never encountered. When magic is one of your tools, you rarely need to reach for anything else. Lots of mages can’t adapt to a situation where their default tactics are useless and fall to these things.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel better? Because you are doing a shit job i
f so,” Gabrielle snapped.

  “What she’s saying is that these are a big hurdle for most mages. But Grumph isn’t like most mages, now is he?” Dejy pointed out. “He’s more accustomed to handling problems without his magic. And I’m extra calm because I happen to know which spells he has tucked up his—well, never mind, looks like he’s about to show us himself.”

  Gabrielle and Fritz looked down at the field, where Grumph was completely surrounded by the constroids. Despite what had happened with his hammer, he was clearly casting a spell with his free hand. Several of the other mages nearby chuckled, muttering something about rookies, but Dejy was grinning from ear to ear.

  “I had a feeling that would come in handy.”

  * * *

  “One of the fundamental keys of magic is to learn what you do best. Some wizards are naturally adept at fire spells. Others excel at summoning. Play to your strengths, in other words. But since we don’t have time to test you in every discipline, we’ll have to use that strategy slightly differently.”

  Dejy’s words echoed in Grumph’s head as he wove the spell. It had been the first one his teacher had decided he should learn, and therefore the one he’d gotten the most experience in casting. True, that was very little compared to the time he’d spent with the ones from his book, but Grumph had thrown his first spell without instruction in the midst of a demon attack. Some oversized metal bugs weren’t nearly enough to rattle his concentration as he finished the last of the gestures and let the final word of command fall from his lips.

  He could see the crowd lean forward, their faces expectant as they waited to witness his spell fizzle out against the well-defended opponents closing in on him. They were quickly disappointed, as no massive fireball or blast of force appeared from his hand. In fact, to the untrained eye, it looked like Grumph hadn’t managed to actually call forth any magic at all. Only those who recognized the spell, or had the keen eyes to watch his body, understood what Grumph had done.