The Games of Ganthrea

by Andy Adams

  My only choice now…Brenner thought with a sigh, is down.

  A high-pitched whistle grew louder, but before the giant vulture could sink its claws into him, he leapt into a fissure.

  He fell for about ten feet before hitting one slanted ledge, then another—his momentum propelling him forward—finally coming down on all fours on the cold, blackened ground. Groaning, he peeled himself off it and surveyed the chasm floor. The giant vulture was still cackling high overhead, but it refused to fly lower to get him. That isn’t good…he thought as his eyes swept the area, that means there’s something down here it fears more…

  Rustling and scuttling echoes caught his attention, sounding like a suit of armor being dragged across a courtyard. He crouched low, ready to run, but didn’t see any creature.

  Ahead, a T in the canyon wall gave him the options of going left or right. Recalling the orb to be distantly left, he ventured to that side. He trekked for ten minutes, watching his back every other step, but realized after a couple switchbacks and bends that he couldn’t reliably determine which way he should go. He needed to go back up.

  He turned the corner around another stone wall, and saw where the smoke he’d seen earlier was coming from: a black land-dragon twenty feet away leered at him with coal-fired, yellow-orange eyes, a plume of acrid smoke rising from its nostrils.

  “I bet you’re a friendly one, aren’t you?” Brenner said.

  In response, it sent a jet of hot orange flame directly at him.

  Brenner leapt back past the corner, the heat from the fire warming his side. He scanned the rock ledges for a way up. He saw one not too far, and bolted for it. By the time he was on the second ledge, the wingless dragon had rounded the corner, its heavy claws scraping against the rocks as it sped toward him. A bright scarlet stream of flame shot at him, and Brenner ducked behind a rock outcropping. It began to glow red.

  He wiped the sweat from his forehead, forcing himself to stay calm. All he needed to do now was climb a switchback…which required him to dash back the way he came, giving the dragon a wide-open shot at him. That wasn’t going to work. So, he waited for the dragon to move.

  It didn’t.

  Instead, it rocked back on its haunches like a guard dog, knowing full well where the exit was.

  Brenner thought quickly. He grabbed a nearby rock, and ricocheted it across the canyon walls behind the beast. He heard the dragon’s tail slapping against the rocks as it turned a corner below. Yes! Wasting no time, Brenner leapt from his cover, bolted across the rock path, and up the switchback. Suddenly heat and smoke licked his heels. Go, go, go!

  Hand over hand, he scaled the rockface, as another burst of fire struck the wall just below him. With a tug up and over the lip, he rolled onto the top. He sucked in clean lungfuls of air. I’m not out of this stage yet…

  His eyes darted across the upper landscape to find the giant-vulture before it found him. Thankfully, it had not ventured far from where he’d left it, circling and peeking its head down the cracks. Turning forward, he realized he was now closer to the final wall of rock, and also, the glowbe. Slowly, he positioned his body onto his knees, lifted his torso, and calculated the shortest zig-zag route. Capitalizing on his headstart, he sprinted across the boulder tops, jumping from crag to crag over the gaps.

  A raspy bird-call pierced the air behind him. Here we go again! It would be a few seconds before the vulture was bearing down on him.

  But he couldn’t stop now: there were no shelter stones, and the white glowbe was only fifty feet away. He spotted a rock ahead the size of a shot-put, and grabbed it before he jumped another fissure. When he landed, he tumbled forward and spun around—just as the vulture’s outstretched talons were bearing down upon him. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Brenner aimed and chucked the stone at the head of the diving-bombing bird.

  A sickening thunk told him he had aimed true, but the vulture was still careening at him in a frenzied spin. Brenner rolled to his right, and the massive bird whammed past him into a wall, then ricocheted off and fell back into the chasm. That was too close, he thought as he rubbed his hands together and scrambled to his feet. As Brenner summited the next rockpile, he heard the dragon below crunching the bones of the vulture.

  Moments later, he stood in front of the white glowbe, then reached out and touched it, causing it to shimmer green. He smiled, and another sight ahead gave him hope: he could see the curving sides of the stadium coming together. The end was getting near.

  He walked down a stone-cut, spiral staircase, and stood before a grassy field, in which was a fountain, a glowbe surrounded by rings, and beyond which rose a partition, stretching from wall to wall. A door cut into the far end of it. That’s my exit.

  His muscles were tense and sore, but at least his hand had stopped bleeding. This next challenge…seemed surprisingly straightforward. On the right side, he saw five concentric rings painted on the ground with a white glowbe hovering in the middle, and on the left, a fountain shot up shimmering splashes of colorful, delicious-looking water.

  While the fountain looked tantalizing, he had doubts about the reliability of the water, given the tricks of the banshee he had encountered earlier. And the fact that the glowbe was nowhere near it.

  Warily, he ventured towards the glowbe. When he passed over the first ring in the ground, he paused.

  What am I doing here? He looked at the fountains and arena walls and, far above, the empty stands. I’ve never been inside a vast stadium like this before.

  There was a shimmering orb not too far from him, and pool of rainbow water the other way. He was thirsty. Maybe a drink will jog my memory. He turned away from the orb and strode towards the pool. He came to its edge, dipped his hand in the soothing water, and brought a cupful up to his lips. Just as he was about to drink, he saw the cut in his hand, remembered the razor pole, realized what he was doing and dropped his hand. The water splashed into the pool, and he jerked away from it. No, he thought, I better not drink from that.

  He started toward the glowbe again, and had a moment of déjà vu as he passed over the first line. Again, he couldn’t remember his purpose. Why was he striving for this glowing sphere? He backed up, past the line, and then it hit him: the line unleashed a power that was interfering with his mind. He looked around for some dirt…spit on it, and then dabbed his finger in the mud to write on his arm the words ‘Get glowbe.’

  Steadying himself, he walked again past the first line…Where am I going? He turned around, about to give it up, when he saw the muddy message on his arm. He nodded.

  He strode forward and passed the second line, and as he did, he felt his energy sap. His legs had to be dragged with all his might to move an inch; his shoulders felt like they were loaded down with heavy stones. Okay, the first one was a memory charm, the second was a strength remover, but I can do this, he thought, looking up, I can get to the…and then he cringed. There were three more lines he needed to cross before he could reach the glowbe.

  After much slogging forward, he came to the third black line marking the ground. He pushed his body to move past it. Suddenly, voices called out from the stadium on every side.

  “You pathetic boy!” one snapped.

  “Give up!” a high-pitched girl shouted. “You’re getting nowhere!”

  “Hey Wheezeridge, no one likes you!” a voice leered. “You’ll never be good enough!”

  Brenner realized the ploy of this ring. Again, he pushed himself forward.

  But it was hard.

  Each jeer and verbal spar stung like ocean water in an open wound, eroding his determination. Hours seemed to pass as he trudged to get to the next ring. When he crossed it, he heard a commotion behind him. Looking back at the rainbow pool, he saw himself holding a mircon and wielding extraordinary power. He was clad in golden robes, shooting jets of magic that made the ground burst as new plants shot forth, magic that forced enemies to cower before him, and magic that attracted throngs of admirers to line up for a glimpse
of him. And all it took was a drink of water.

  No, he thought, I have to gain admission to Valoria to get a mircon. That isn’t real. It’s another mirage.

  He turned back towards the glowing orb, now only a dozen feet away. He edged closer to the last line. His weary foot stepped over it. And the day plunged into night.

  Instead of the white orb in front of him, it morphed into blue fire, shifting between frightening images: the banshee shrieking and clawing him, Stewart Guffman coming at him with knives, Windelm dying—Brenner fell to his knees—his forest and tree tower burning in a blazing inferno, inside an old, sallow man that looked eerily like himself, but this person was babbling to himself with vacant, defeated eyes. He stopped, unable to look further.

  He retreated. When he crossed the thick line in reverse, the horrible blue fire stopped. It transformed back into an orb. Daylight returned. Though jarred, he was okay. It was just in my mind. He breathed deeply. Just my mind…and I’ve come this far; I can’t stop now.

  He willed his feet to step forward again.

  Immediately the fire came back, even stronger, and feelings of helplessness and fear washed over him. He felt sick; he needed to turn back, make it stop. And then a faint voice rose from within.

  No. I will not be beaten by my fears.

  He trudged forward, one step at a time, despite the images tearing at his soul.

  He reached out his hand towards the flame. It crackled against his skin, burning hot and painful. He pushed his fingers to touch it, blisters forming on his skin, and then—

  The fire extinguished, turning into a cool, green orb; the vise grip on his body abated. He walked backward; the jeering ceased; his energy returned; his memory refreshed; once again, his goal was clear.

  He jogged to the door on the far side of the partition, opened it, and walked into the final stage. He passed under a gnarled olive tree, and, to his relief, saw that the gray stadium wall was only a couple hundred yards away. He walked slowly across the flat field, past piles of rocks, checking the sky for any winged-threats, the ground for suspicious holes, and the walls for booby-traps. The only unusual thing about this field was the enormous bull-like statue standing next to a large wooden door in the stadium wall with a green symbol on it.

  The statue was life-like in its carving, and held a giant battle-axe in its hands. Although he had never seen one outside of his mythology books, Brenner was sure the creature he was staring at was none other than a minotaur.

  He looked to either side of the door, and spotted the white glowbe on the far left. He changed his stride toward it, when a husky voice nearly blasted him off his feet.

  “MOVE NO FURTHER, OR YOU WILL DIE!”

  The stone minotaur had come thundering to life, swinging its axe above its head.

  Dumbstruck, Brenner very nearly wet himself.

  It took three large strides toward him, each shaking the ground. Brenner looked around earnestly for some rock or stick to grab, but nothing was close-by. He backed up, eyes wide with fear.

  “To reach that glowbe, and the door behind me,” the minotaur said in a loud voice that sounded as if the earth itself was speaking, “you must defeat me in a physical or mental match.”

  Brenner’s hands trembled, and he tried to make himself sound much more confident than he felt. “What are the rules of each contest?”

  “The physical match is a test of strength,” said the minotaur. “Whoever can lift the biggest rock after three tries is the victor. For the mental match, you must answer a riddle correctly.”

  “How many guesses do I get?”

  “ONE,” snorted the creature disdainfully.

  Brenner weighed his options: with its towering physique and bulging muscles, the minotaur was clearly stronger than him; the riddle could be about anything, and would probably be magic-related, in which case he didn’t stand a chance of getting it right. The minotaur was setting him up for a contest he had no hope of winning. He panicked.

  “CHOOSE!” the beast said irritably, rolling the shaft of the axe in its hands.

  With these rules, I can’t outwit the minotaur, can’t get around it without being bludgeoned, certainly can’t move the rock…he tried looking at the problem differently…I doubt I’m even faster…unless…an idea came to him.

  “I challenge you to a physical contest,” said Brenner.

  “So be it,” said the minotaur, thundering towards a pile of stones.

  “On one condition,” said Brenner.

  The minotaur paused, eyes narrowed in annoyance, “What is that?”

  “We have a race,” said Brenner, with what he hoped was a convincing tone.

  The minotaur arched his head back and chortled, which Brenner surmised was laughter. “That isn’t a contest at all,” it said. “Of course, I will win.”

  “Then prove it,” said Brenner, stepping forward. “See that tree over there?” he said, gesturing over his right shoulder toward the lone olive tree by the gate. It stood about a hundred yards from them.

  “Yes,” the minotaur snorted impatiently.

  “The first one to touch it,” said Brenner, raising a finger, “wins.”

  “You’ve sealed your fate, human,” the creature replied. “Once I win, I will cleave you with this,” he said, brandishing his giant battle-axe.

  “Perhaps you will,” said Brenner. “But if I win, you must let me advance past this stage…and you—you can’t carry any weapon with you during the race.”

  “Accepted,” said the beast with a wicked smile, using its axe to carve a deep line in the dirt. “We start here,” it grunted, letting its axe fall to the ground with a clamor. Brenner cautiously stepped over to the line. The breath of the beast smelled like rancid meat. With the minotaur standing twice his height, he realized just how futile this race would be.

  “On my count then,” Brenner said, jockeying himself forward. The minotaur leaned his torso and gave a huff of impatience.

  “Three…” said Brenner, “two…one… Go!”

  The two set off sprinting, and immediately the raging minotaur took an enormous lead. The beast bellowed with satisfaction as it thundered triumphantly toward the tree. With twenty feet to go, the minotaur turned back to gloat as it closed in on certain victory and Brenner’s certain death—

  But by then, Brenner was off in other direction, halfway to the final door.

  The minotaur ripped up earth with its hooves as it stopped, turned, and charged back towards Brenner, screaming “NOW you’re going to get the AXE!”

  What did he say finished the Agilis?! Brenner feverishly thought, sprinting towards the door. How do I open it?!

  The minotaur was now racing up to their starting line, hardly slowing to pick up his battle-axe as he trampled toward the teen.

  Brenner reached the giant wooden door; there was a metal knocker on it. He raised it and hammered it down—nothing happened. He looked desperately for a knob—there was none!

  He glanced over his shoulder. The minotaur was closing in, battle-axe raised high above its head. In a few seconds, it would be upon Brenner.

  Panting, Brenner scanned the whole door one last time. No handle—no hinge—no flap. Something green glittered above. The insignia!

  Brenner leapt up and slapped his hand against the symbol.

  “YOU are MINE!” the minotaur roared.

  In a split-second, the door whooshed open; Brenner leapt inside; it closed, and then—

  THWACK!

  The blade of the minotaur’s battle-axe hammered the door. The frame vibrated angrily, but did not yield to the axe; Brenner let out the biggest sigh of his life. Chest heaving, he looked around to find himself in a candle-lit, stone anteroom.

  Blood pounded through Brenner’s body; and then, ever so slowly, a blissful thought floated through his mind…I. Did. It. The realization felt like sunlight warming his skin; he grinned wider than ever before.

  I made it! I’ve beaten the odds. I’m in, and better yet, I’m alive!
>
  “I’m ALIVE!” he shouted euphorically, pumping his fists high above his head, “Yeaahhh!”

  Just then footsteps echoed in the chamber; Brenner brought his fists in front of himself like a boxer and watched the door. Only when he heard muffled, familiar voices, and was certain it wasn’t another creature hell-bent on destroying him, did he lower his arms.

  The deputy walked into the torch lit room first. “You performed quite well,” he said in a formal, approving tone.

  From behind him, Windelm came bursting into the room, and practically threw the academy official aside.

  “You did it, Brenner!” Windelm shouted, running up to Brenner and lifting him up off the ground, and into the air. “I knew you could do it! Absolutely knew it!” For a moment Brenner couldn’t breathe due to Windelm’s great bear-hug. “But that was even better than I’d expected!” Windelm finally set him down, his green eyes twinkling brightly.