by Andy Adams
“Yes,” he laughed. “Even after that.”
“If you’re sure then…” she raised an eyebrow at him. “I’d love to.”
Brenner wanted to pump both fists into the air and jump, but again, he composed himself.
“Great,” he said. “Thanks again.”
“No worries,” she said, tapping Velvo with her mircon, who rolled up and curled under her arm. They walked to the castle doors. “I have to work for my parents over the weekend, so how about Monday night?”
“I am completely free.”
“Good. See you then.”
The two walked through the broad castle entrance, and Gemry motioned her quarters were down a different passageway.
“And Brenner?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time, see if beforehand you can sneak in a quick shower.”
His face puckered. Ouch…she had noticed.
“I can handle that.”
She laughed. “Alright, see you Monday,” she said, waving as she glided down the passageway to the magician quarters. “Sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Gemry.”
He wound his way through the halls, his path illuminated by yellow wall lanterns. While walking, he couldn’t decide which was luckier: that Gemry had said yes to meeting with him again, or that she had said yes despite the fact that he had worn sweaty clothes the whole time and she hadn’t run away repulsed.
Either way, one thing was clear: on Monday night, he would be going on a date.
On a date with a girl who was clever, cute, vivacious…and fun.
He decided not to tell Gemry that this, for him, would be another first.
Chapter Fifteen
Mental Games
Jolts from beneath him awoke Brenner from deep sleep. His body was sore. In a happy flash, he remembered the glorious events of yesterday—the Zabrani game, capturing two glowbes, flying through Arborio next to Gemry on her carrier carpet—it had been almost too wonderful. He had showered late the previous evening before bed, and so only needed to select new robes for the day. After dressing, he headed down to the Banquet Hall.
As he entered the spacious room, he noticed more attention was given to him than normal: eyes darted in his direction, only to flicker away when he met them.
“Nice game yesterday, Conjurer,” someone sitting at the mages’ table said behind him.
“Thanks,” Brenner said, looking over his shoulder. “Oh hey, Girard!” he said, his mind registering the friendly teammate with whom he had bolted down the ridge, before the violet knights attacked.
“You gonna pull fancy tricks like that every game?”
“They weren’t anything special,” Brenner said, trying to brush the compliment aside. “And it was a team effort; I wouldn’t have gotten any glowbe if not for you and Gemry.”
“Gemry yes, but all I did was a great job of getting myself stunned,” Girard said as his friends chuckled at the table with him. “Anyway,” Girard continued, “I hope we can join together again. Only next time, I’ll work on stealth. See if that can save us from an ambush.”
“Deal,” Brenner said. He turned and loaded his tray with hot pancakes and fruit, making his way to the conjurer table by Finnegan.
As soon as he sat down, there was a subtle shift of students at the table: about half turned away from him, pointedly talking to others, while another group gave him curious looks.
“How was the date?” Finnegan said, handing him a glass vial of ruby syrup.
“Thanks,” he said, pouring the red-sweet syrup on his fluffy stack of cakes. “But it wasn’t a date. It was a training session.”
“Of course…” Finnegan said with amusement, putting his chin on his fist.
“It was,” Brenner said defensively. “She just showed me how to levitate water, and play around with mud mixtures. Except for pigs, I don’t think anyone would call that romantic.”
“Mud wrestling, huh? You sure know how to charm ‘em!”
“You weirdo,” Brenner said, shaking his head. “Although, you were partially right.”
“About what?”
“About watching my back. She nearly threw me off her carrier carpet.”
“Knew she would—the beautiful ones are always the deadliest. So, you almost wound up as one of these?” He grinned and held up his fork: balanced on the end was a large pancake, dripping with syrup. “Personally, that’s not my top choice for moving on to the afterlife.”
“Same here,” Brenner said with a laugh, before taking a bite of food.
“So, that’s all then?”
“Of my night? Well, yeah.”
“Hmm, okay,” Finnegan said, clearly unconvinced. “Well, you missed an epic target practice session last night. Payton and I each nailed the red statue from half-field.”
“Nice going!”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll let you in on a tip or two today.”
“Fine by me,” Brenner said. “By the way, what are we learning today?”
“We’re back with Sage Shastrel, and then afternoon skirmishes with our squad.”
“Wonderful. More drama with psycho Sorian.”
“Right. We’ll see how much flak he sends your way. I hear he had a most disappointing performance yesterday at Zabrani.”
“Yeah, I think I saw his name towards the bottom of the scores, which will probably make him yell at me all the more.”
“Absolutely!” Finnegan said brightly as though predicting sunny skies. “Well, they say this school hasn’t turned out a flabby spellcaster in centuries. Sorian’s just doing his part to help fulfill that mission.”
He stopped, then pointed to the far corner of the hall: “Hey, Brenner.”
“What?”
“Is that her?”
Brenner looked. At the other side, with other students in dark green robes, Gemry sat smiling at her magician’s table, brushing aside her brown hair as she ate her breakfast.
“Yeah.”
Finnegan let out a soft whistle. “I’m impressed.”
“Come on,” Brenner said.
“Too bad you only got one training session with her.” He took a bite of an apple.
Brenner smiled. “Who said it was only one?”
Finnegan looked like he wanted to say something, but choked on his fruit. He coughed hard to dislodge it. “Whaddya mean? You gonna see her again?”
“Maybe.”
Finnegan punched him in the arm. “Rascal. When?”
“In a couple of days. Another flight lesson.”
Finnegan shook his head, then went back to his plate, muttering to himself, “I don’t believe this guy…”
Brenner stared past the spellcasters a moment longer, and, as if she could sense it, Gemry looked away from her peers, across the hall, and into Brenner’s eyes.
She gave a slight smile that showed her top white teeth: a rush of warmth filled Brenner’s head, and immediately he felt foolish and self-conscious. He half-lifted his hand in a clumsy wave, but by then Gemry had returned to her conversation.
Finnegan pretended not to see any of this.
“Come on, let’s go.”
Outside the castle walls, standing on grassy knolls, the group of conjurers began Sage Shastrel’s class flicking their mircons, practicing a spell to cast away objects.
Brenner pointed his wooden mircon at a mossy stone next to him.
“Repello,” he thought, and was happy to see the stone skitter backwards as if he had kicked it.
“Make certain you are aiming your objects away from other conjurers,” Shastrel said as he flew above them, circling the class from the air. “Yesterday I had to send two students to the infirmary because a careless boy blindsided both of them with a two-ton repelled log.”
That reminded Brenner. He looked around to locate Sorian, and breathed easier once he saw him on the other side of the field with Travarius. When Sage Shastrel’s back was turned, Sorian and Travarius cast repulsion spells into an unlucky boy nearby them—
Batterby from the looks of it—who yelped and shot backwards twenty feet before falling with a thud. Batterby’s cry caught Shastrel’s attention, and he hovered more closely to Sorian’s side of the group.
“You will channel your spells at objects only—not each other,” said Shastrel sternly. “Further disobedience will result in evening demerits.”
The students snapped back to their best behavior, while Brenner wondered what exactly the demerits consisted of…maybe scrubbing stone floors, or cleaning hundred-foot chimneys? Perhaps watering those vicious tendrilsnake plants? The thought made him shudder.
As class continued, Brenner got the hang of the spell, while Finnegan made some progress. So, Brenner branched out, practicing his spells on simple organisms. He had just gotten a couple blades of grass to uproot themselves and fly to his hand, when Shastrel called from behind him, “Brenner, let’s see your repulsion spell.”
He looked up, slightly jarred from Shastrel’s noiseless approach. “Sure thing.”
Brenner aimed his wand at the mossy stone, now thirty feet away.
Apellatum, he thought, and the stone obediently flew to him and dropped at his feet.
Repello, he thought again, and, as though an invisible fishing line yanked it from far away, the stone jerked and threw itself backward.
“Very good,” Shastrel said, nodding. “I’m impressed you’ve progressed to nonverbal spells. Two observations: First, you may choose to think or speak your spells in my class, as spoken words add some power to spellcasting. Second, as you repel your object, imagine either its greatest fear or greatest annoyance, to shoot it further away.
Brenner nodded. “Thank you.”
“Quite welcome. Now, Finnegan, let’s see your spells.”
Finnegan waved his mircon, pressing his lips firmly together and squinting his eyes, but nothing happened, except that, after a long moment, his face turned a nice shade of beet red.
“Try saying the spells aloud,” Shastrel directed.
“REPELLO!” Finnegan blurted, and the rock in front of him scooted like a startled mouse a few feet backward.
“Not bad, Conjurer. Keep going till it jumps a good ten feet, as that’s the average distance I expect from your group today.”
“Yes, Sage.”
The teacher flew to the next group of students, and Finnegan looked at Brenner, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously, were you born in a pool of elixir?”
“No,” Brenner chuckled, “but if you find one, I’d be happy to push you in.”
“I’d throw you in in a heartbeat,” Finnegan said with exasperation, “but knowing you, you’d probably walk across the top and finish dry as an Arenaterro desert.”
Class continued without any major incidents, except when Sage Shastrel went to help Evie get unstuck from a tree after she repelled herself into its upper branches.
Sorian glanced over to ensure Shastrel was occupied, then shot a repulsion spell at Brenner. Thankfully, Brenner had been keeping an eye on Sorian. He dodged the spell, and then rebounded with magic of his own that blasted Sorian down the hill flat on his back. Seeing their squad leader coughing for breath, more than a few of his peers let out surprised laughs.
“What’s going on here?” Sage Shastrel demanded as he turned from levitating Evie down from the tree.
There was a tense moment when the conjurers looked between Brenner and Sorian, and he wondered whether Sorian would call him out, but that would mean showing weakness in front of his squad. The thought seemed to cross behind Sorian’s eyes, too.
“Nothing,” Sorian said, rising to his feet, and dusting off his green robes.
“Nothing?” Shastrel repeated skeptically. “Not going to say what or who knocked you down, Sorian?”
Sorian glowered, but remained silent about the humiliation. Brenner figured he was using the time to think of ways to retaliate.
“So be it,” said Shastrel. “Given your earlier behavior, I imagine it was not unprovoked then.”
Sorian just shrugged, so Sage Shastrel nodded and said, “Spellcasters, continue your spellwork.”
In no time at all, the sun was shining directly overhead, and bells tolled from the castle. “That will do,” Shastrel said, “Conjurers, you are adjourned to lunch.”
When they were only halfway through their meal Sorian stood up at the end of the table and yelled, “Squad! Forks down. Plates to the wall. Go to the southern stadium!”
Finnegan frowned and elbowed Brenner. “He’s a real charmer, isn’t he?”
“You can say that again.”
“Now!” Sorian said, noticing that some of his squad hadn’t immediately jumped to their feet, and instead were trying to cram extra food into their mouths.
After a brisk march through the walkways and tunnels, they came into a giant stadium, and as they did, Brenner’s hairs bristled: this was the Agilis Arena from his entrance exam…was that screaming banshee still in there? And the minotaur?
But, apart from being incredibly vast, it looked completely altered. There was no chasm at the beginning, no floating bars, no trees, or lake. He realized the sages must repurpose it as needed. It would certainly be a waste to let it lay dormant except for the few Agilis entrance examinations per year.
“Squad!” Sorian barked. “Listen up!”
The group of conjurers turned to give him their attention, except Finnegan, who leaned against the back wall, crossing his arms. Sorian jumped onto a carrier carpet, which flew above them, swishing back and forth as he, probably intentionally, talked down to them.
“We will play modified Agilis this afternoon,” Sorian said. “Rules are simple: collect as many glowbes as possible without being frozen or knocked unconscious. I will drill you until you all show that you are capable of catching one. Since this is Agilis, you won’t be using your mircons; set them aside. Am I understood?”
Murmurs of yes rippled through the squad, and they placed their mircons in a pile by the door.
Sorian shot a red spell from his mircon to a symbol on the wall, and a low grating sound filled the stadium. The walls on either side of the vast arena opened, and from each side protruded three statues. The six stone statues looked like solemn, tall spellcasters, holding two mircons and pointing them at different angles across the arena. The next moment, the air lit up as their mircons shot a steady barrage of spells like yellow and red laser beams, crisscrossing each other and then smacking the opposite stadium wall, where they were absorbed by black, felt-like material.
“As usual, the spells are set to stun,” said Sorian. “If you fall, get yourself up. If you can’t, wait until I choose to unfreeze you.” He gave a nasty smile.
Sorian’s carpet flew down to a wooden chest on the side of the arena, and he tapped his mircon to it.
About twenty white glowbes darted out of the box, zipping through the crossfire of spells and then stopping, hovering both low and high, but keeping to the first third of the vast arena.
“Line up!” Sorian shouted.
The forty some students approached a glowing line that stretched from one side of the arena to the other. As Brenner stepped to the line, a quick calculation told him that there were too many students for each to nab a glowbe.
“You want to run together?” Finnegan asked.
“Thanks, but not this time,” said Brenner.
He thought back to his books on game theory. He had two choices: go immediately for the few close, attractive orbs, or try for the larger clusters past the barrage of spells. This was like the Nash simulation of too many guys pursuing one blonde lady and blocking each other instead of factoring in the others’ choices and striving to meet one of several available brunettes.
He knew what to do.
Brenner’s leg coiled back, primed to spring with his knee just above the ground. His fingers twitched at his sides.
“Go!” shouted Sorian.
Immediately the squad of students darted across the rocky arena. Brenner joined near the leaders in the front,
and out of the corner of his eye, Brenner saw Travarius and a pack of students shoving towards the same glowbe. One of the boys tumbled down, shouting. Instead of joining them, he set his course on the first line of spellfire, which formed a solid jet of energy at eye-level. He slid underneath, unscathed, and ran towards the next two lines of spells, which together crossed at knee and shoulder level.
With a great burst of energy, Brenner ran and jumped as high as he could, arcing over the top of the yellow spells and landing with a roll on the other side. Only he and four other students reached this point of the course so quickly, and in the middle of them shimmered an unclaimed glowbe.
