by Andy Adams
Batterby and another spellcaster raced for it while Brenner passed, deciding to press forward to the tantalizing cluster of glowbes just beyond the next fence of spells.
A faster boy from his class got to the fence before him, and attempted jumping over. With a cry, he fell to the ground stunned, and Brenner saw why. This blockade of spells didn’t just fire in a straight line—it rotated in circles.
He and another student that skidded up to him, Kendra, watched the looping shots of magic. Behind this obstacle, at least half a dozen glowbes hovered enticingly.
Brenner watched the movement of the two spinning mircons. The statues fired nearly constant spells, and Brenner followed their trajectory, hoping to discover the pattern. A moment later, he had found their weakness: a fleeting gap in the red spells occurred at chest level every five seconds.
Before Kendra could spot it, too, Brenner dashed for the opening, counting down…5…4…3…2, jump! He dove just as the hole appeared, and felt the air behind his feet crackle with heat—then he was tucking and rolling on the ground. He sat up, examining his body.
Success!
But now Kendra was running for the same spot. He had to act fast.
Brenner looked to his right and sprinted for three glowbes. He tagged each in succession, and they switched colors from white to gold and whisked to the side of the field. Spinning around, he saw Kendra coming out of her tumble, rising, and sprinting from him for the other three glowbes, which were staggered in two areas. Brenner raced for the glowbe away from Kendra—tucked behind a lone boulder in the clearing—and was only a few feet away from getting his fourth glowbe when his shoulder throbbed with pain—a spell had struck him, and his body went rigid. He fell forward and, unable to use his hands, watched with a mixture of fear and confusion as he struck the ground with his face. Warm blood trickled around his eyebrow, and a throbbing pain filled his head.
He saw Kendra’s feet jog past him, and heard the glowbe lightly sizzle as she captured it. He vaguely replayed the scene in his mind: Had he missed a stream of spells? No…the last section of glowbes was well past the rotating shots…he was out in the open…someone must have fired an Arcyndo spell…but his squad surrendered their mircons before Agilis began…except…
Sorian.
With his head tilted slightly off the ground, only one eye could see downfield, away from his squad, so Brenner had to wait to be unfrozen, in pain and anger, as the other conjurers picked up the final orbs. And the stunning spell prevented him from speaking. He could only listen to the sounds of spellfire ricocheting around the arena.
At last, the shots stopped ringing out.
“Squad!” Sorian was calling something in the distance, “…to the starting line.”
Again, Brenner waited for a thawing spell…none came. Then he saw a shadow growing and heard the swish of the carrier carpet coming from behind him around the boulder. Sorian’s voice was quiet.
“That’s for acting like you’re something special.”
He heard Sorian clearing his throat; then a warm glob of spit hit the back of his head. Brenner’s eyes squeezed shut. Ugh…that awful punk!
“And that,” said Sorian, “is for thinking you’re on my level. You’re no better than one of my family’s slaves.” Sorian hovered lower and said, “If you report it, worse things will happen.” The carrier carpet rustled away.
He felt a warm spell sensation strike his back, and his limbs were once again able to move. He turned to shout at Sorian, but he’d already flown over to the rest of the conjurers, saying, “Identifio!” and shooting a spell at the flock of hovering glowbes on the sidelines.
Brenner flicked the spit from his hair, grimaced, and brought his other hand to his forehead to help stop the bleeding. Hadn’t anyone seen Sorian? He looked back…no, unfortunately he had been hidden behind a boulder …so that’s the price I pay for going solo with an enemy around…
As he walked back to the starting line, he noticed glowbes floating themselves to the spellcasters who captured them. Three came to hover in front of Brenner.
“What happened to you?!” Finnegan exclaimed, a glowbe hovering by his furrowed eyebrows.
“Stunned in the back,” Brenner said, throwing a glare toward Sorian. “From him.”
Finnegan shook his head. “That sleezy…”
“Squad!” Sorian shouted. “Round two of Agilis starts now. If you didn’t get a glowbe, line up.”
“Brenner needs to go the infirmary,” Finnegan said. “I’ll take him.”
“Did I give you permission to go?” Sorian rounded on him. “You’ll wait on the side until the group—” Sorian looked past Brenner at the entrance door and suddenly changed his demeanor.
Brenner turned to look, too, and saw a sage entering the arena.
“Fair noon, Sage Vicksman,” Sorian said warmly. “I was just directing these two to the infirmary after our first round of Agilis. One of the statue’s Arcyndo spells got Brenner.”
“Ouch,” said Vicksman, surveying Brenner’s bleeding forehead, “That was a nasty fall. Looks like it paid off though,” he added, noticing Brenner’s three glowbes. “Nicely done.”
“Thanks,” said Brenner. He gave Sorian a glare, but decided it would be pointless to accuse him without any evidence that it was Sorian’s shot. And he just wanted to get cleaned up and have his headache go away.
“Come on,” said Finnegan, handing him his mircon and leading him out of the arena.
Walking to the infirmary in the heart of the Valoria, Brenner considered his options: he either had to get out of Sorian’s squad, or strike back when it was a fair fight with just the two of them.
“In here,” Finnegan said, opening a door to a wide room with high windows and white beds. There, a sage named Penelopi channeled a healing spell at Brenner’s forehead, and gave him strong tea to drink, saying, “This should help replenish some of the blood.”
An hour later, after showering and finding some clean robes, Brenner felt much better, and walked from the boy’s dormitory to the spacious, ballroom-like conjurer’s community room. A quick scan told him that Sorian and Kendra weren’t present, just three or four mixed squads of conjurers.
A bookcase twenty-feet tall spanned across an entire wall, its shelves full of colorful tomes; in the corners by the windows grew living gingko and acacia trees; spellcasters sat at carved wooden desks, writing on parchment; others chatted softly in luxurious armchairs; still more played games with levitating marble pieces.
He strolled to the vast bookshelf, and a shimmering, gold spine enticed him. He plucked the book off the shelf. It felt worn and looked to be at least a hundred years old. He cracked it open to read, but was baffled by strange characters with delicate swoops and detailed clusters of script. He considered asking Finnegan, who was one of the conjurers immersed in a board game that looked like Risk (but with hovering pieces shooting light beams), what language the book was written in, but decided that would raise undesired questions: “What do you mean you don’t know what language this is? You’re speaking it!”
Fortunately, as he started skimming the page, something in his brain flicked on like a gate lifting in front of a water reservoir, and he was both surprised and delighted to find the words pouring into him.
The title was printed in elegant letters, and read, “Elixir: The Essence Within All.” He found the first chapter fascinating—it contained a mixture of diagrams, spells, and explanations, similar to Da Vinci’s sketchbook of inventions that he had once read. The lessons reinforced his studies so far, specifically the notion that to use magic on anything, one had to understand the desires or qualities of the object itself.
After reading the first chapter, he flipped the pages until a heading caught his eye and stopped him: Properties of the Seven Elixir Colors.
He was about to read more, but had the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. Sure enough, he saw Sorian and Kendra had entered the room. Rising from his chair, he glanced around the c
ommunity room for an exit and noticed a doorway by the windows, with sunlight streaming in. Clutching his book, Brenner strode to it.
White light grew brighter as he ambled through the tunnel and into the warm room. Sunlight filled the conservatory, and Brenner stood smiling at the assortment of tropical trees and blooming pink flowers that filled it. Through tall glass ceilings and outer walls, he could see pristine blue sky. The air tasted sweet and faintly of citrus, no doubt amplified by the oils of the yellow and orange buds and glistening leaves all around. He strolled to a small circle of chairs, sliding his hand across one of the deep green plants along the way. He raised his palm to his face: the fragrance smelled strongly of aloe and ginger.
Brenner plopped into one of the armchairs and flipped again to the chapter about Properties of the Seven Elixir Colors:
While naturally spellcasters prefer the elixir of the biome they are raised in, there are distinct spell advantages that each color of elixir affords, since each is influenced by the landscape from which it originates. Ganthrean spellcasters may grow their spell-abilities for physical, mental and Aura magic, and often focus their strengths on the color of their elixir.
Physical magic is capable through all elixirs, but especially promoted by three colors. Owing to cliffs, mountains and canyonlands, Red Elixir bolsters strength, boldness, and ideals of fortitude. From the sweeping deserts and tropical oases, Orange Elixir enhances resilience, as well as shrewdness and beauty. Elixir of Green, from jungles and forests, increases growth, rejuvenation and enhances charity…
…Two colors assist with Aura magic: Violet Elixir—generated beneath bayous, everglades, and marshlands—refines power, adaptation abilities, and influence; Yellow Elixir, from savannas, steppes, and plains, increases Auras of protection, as well as faithfulness and synergy…
…Welling up from reefs, islands, and coasts, Blue Elixir boosts mental magic, especially ingenuity, empathy, and persuasion. Growing deep beneath glaciers, permafrost, and fjords, Indigo Elixir also increases mental spells, growing knowledge, self-control, and eloquence…
With training from senior mages and wizards, and direct experience within the biome, spellcasters can tap into the strength of their amulet’s elixir color. Colors can and do occasionally mix together in amulets—usually through a wizard’s forging—although amulets don’t normally allow for additions past two elixirs, as they become more unstable with each new elixir. Sovereign wizards of each biome are known to own multiple elixir amulets—though many prefer a dense amulet heavily imbued with their own elixir color…
Contently reading, Brenner spent a relaxing hour sipping the knowledge of elixir that his peers had been steeped in since birth.
After dinner, Brenner asked Finnegan to show him his shooting skills in the Zabrani arena. A group of spellcasters of all levels joined them on the field, and Sage Vicksman arrived shortly after, unlocking a large chest next to them: a flock of glowbes zoomed around the stadium like excited doves, hovering above white statues near and red and blue ones farther on, while others flitted and spiraled in loops, perpetually mobile. Brenner looked to Finnegan.
“Are we supposed to catch those?”
“Watch and learn,” Finnegan said with bravado.
He aimed his mircon, and a strange thing happened: two jolts of red light sizzled out, one from the tip of the mircon shooting fifty feet ahead and striking a glowbe, and a wild jet of energy that sparked from the mircon’s side—flying inches past Brenner’s face before hitting a wall.
“Sorry!” Finnegan said. “Didn’t stun you, did I?”
Brenner put a hand up to his face. “You nearly froze my nose, but I’m okay.”
“That was definitely not supposed to happen. Sorry mate.” He looked down, inspecting his mircon. “Yeah…there’s a nice crack here. Gonna have to get this fixed. Corsmith’s might have something for it. Well, do like I did with the first shot, just without the extra firepower.”
Brenner started with the stationary glowbes, then focused his shots on the close-moving orbs, which was much like taking a BB gun and trying to hit baseballs as they smoked back and forth in line-drives. As the hour passed, his shot pelted glowbes more often. Brenner then worked on long shots at statues the rest of the evening, and noticed Sage Vicksman hovering above the better shooters, congratulating them on their skill and talking about some after-term internship they should consider doing.
As night set in, he felt much more confident: his Arcyndo spell was quite accurate at close range with the glowbes, and even though the red statue was half the distance of the colossal field, every so often, his shots struck it.
The next morning, Friday, Brenner filed into Sage Erlynda’s with the rest of his conjurer class. They spent the first part in the courtyard thinking of emotions, while their partners attempted to peer past mental walls and identify the hidden feelings. Brenner was paired with Batterby, the small, mouse-like boy, and was surprised to find that he had a strong mental barrier. It took ten concentrated minutes of applying the mental spell before Brenner found a weak section that hinged open and revealed a calm, glowing yellow emotion: admiration.
Brenner was curious. Batterby had never spoken a word to him—perhaps this was his way of saying he was on Brenner’s side?
“Is your emotion admiration?”
Batterby gave a flustered nod, and from his crossed arms, Brenner could tell he’d hoped to stump him.
Batterby tried to slip past Brenner’s mindwall, but by imagining a fortress with a closed portcullis—and not letting his attention drift—he was able to keep it firm. He knew that one look too far, and Batterby might see a hint that he wasn’t of their world. He didn’t know what would happen if someone besides Windelm and Sherry knew his past, other than it couldn’t be good.
After a second half of class spent on reading future thoughts—which Brenner enjoyed, seeing Evie’s imagination of harvesting summer strawberries in her family’s orchards—the group ate lunch and then spent the afternoon on the forest ropes course.
Brenner swung from rope to rope and came up to a platform rigged against a humongous baobab tree, where Finnegan was taking a breather before entering the next stage.
“Hey,” said Finnegan, “we have the day off tomorrow. Want to explore downtown Arborio?”
“Sure,” Brenner said, leaning back against the rough bark.
“Great.”
“That reminds me, I need to return my mircon to Sage Shastrel once I get my own, is there a good place to look for new mircons?”
“Of course,” Finnegan said. “I was already planning to swing by Corsmith’s Mircons and Amulets.”
It then occurred to Brenner that, unfortunately, he didn’t have any Ganthrean coins. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to browse.
They finished the rest of the ropes course that afternoon, and since they were careful to let Sorian and his favorites climb far ahead of them, they didn’t have to suffer any of his power-trips, or worry about being sabotaged from behind.
At dinner that evening, conversation turned to plans for the weekend. Spellcasters chatted about using Saturday for leisure, schoolwork, or exploration, and for Sunday some would return home to see family, meditate, or relax on the castle grounds.
Later, as he settled into his bed, he thought about his first week at Valoria: the good news was that he’d survived it, despite the entrance exam and Sorian’s attempts otherwise. And having Finnegan and Gemry to talk to made it much better than his old school. Still, it would be nice to have a few days off and explore the forested city of Arborio.
Surely it couldn’t be as bad as dealing with Sorian.
Chapter Sixteen
Dangers and Deals
of Arborio
“Shall we run or walk?” Finnegan asked Brenner as the two exited the broad castle doors of the western entrance of Valoria Academy. A sunny Saturday morning greeted them, and a wide smile grew on Brenner’s face at the prospect of seeing more of the city with a friend.
&nbs
p; “How about a light run?” Brenner suggested.
The two jogged at first with plenty of space down Via Valoria, but the further they ventured into the city, the thicker the crowds became. Between the skyscraper trees and multistoried shops, Brenner noticed bottle green banners waving on posts. Pictured on them was a tree ringed by a circle of seven colored diamonds, with six white dots in a hexagon pattern on the tree, and on either side waved a glowing mircon, and in the middle shone a large, bright glowbe.
He concluded the six dots symbolized Zabrani, the middle glowbe stood for Agilis, but what of the rest?
“Finnegan,” he said as they ran, “Are those banners for the upcoming Games of Ganthrea?”
