The Games of Ganthrea

by Andy Adams

  “Sorry to hear that,” Brenner said, deciding not to mention the threat of the other man taking her father’s amulet. “On the bright side, in a couple of years you can work for yourself.”

  “Yeah…that’s what I want most. To be free of my family’s business, and start saving for myself.”

  “That’s a good goal,” Brenner said, nodding.

  The evening sunrays grew faint, then faded from behind the trees. As they flew onward, the suspended ball lanterns flipped on high above, glowing like yellow fireflies.

  “Tell me,” said Gemry, giving him a sideways glance, “why did you wait so long to come to Valoria?”

  Brenner wanted to trust her…but felt Windelm’s stern warning come to mind. “My family thought I could get along fine without it, and since I’m their only kid,” he paused, feeling bad lying to her, “the harvests would be harder without me around for years.”

  “Huh,” Gemry said, sounding not wholly convinced. “So you want to be a rancher then, once you’re finished at Valoria?”

  “I don’t know yet…depends on what I learn, and what opens up for me.”

  “That’s too bad,” she said, giving him a teasing look, “I’ve always thought cattle-boys were kinda cute.”

  Brenner’s tongue stuck in his mouth, and his cheeks warmed.

  “Oh…really?” was the best he could muster.

  Gemry cracked a smile at him. “It’s okay—you can blush.”

  “I – uh…I’m not blushing…” Brenner said, the obvious lie growing as his face warmed. He looked away.

  “We should head back to Valoria,” she said. “I’ve got a modification class tomorrow.”

  “Right,” he said, wanting to say something more, something witty or funny or a compliment—anything—but instead he just looked at his feet, flustered.

  Together, the two flew back to the academy in the warm summer night—and when he happened to think about it, Brenner could hardly believe that he was still flying; a part of him felt the beautiful dream would end any minute. But after a flock of rainbow birds flapped from behind a tree in front of them, and one of their wings smacked Brenner in the face, and still he didn’t wake up—he knew it was real.

  They passed along the river again, Gemry flying gracefully at his side, and after much mental back and forth—should I do it? No, she might flip out…maybe next time…although she did make that cattle-boy comment…

  He shifted his mircon to his left hand, and with his right, reached over and held Gemry’s hand.

  To his delight, she didn’t punch him.

  She didn’t even shrug him off.

  Rather, she looked back at him, squeezed his hand, and gave him another winning smile that made him feel like a firework had just ignited inside his chest.

  If he had to guess, he was fairly certain he looked like a complete goof as he smiled back at her. And even though no more words passed between them as they flew through the night to Valoria, there was something else that did.

  Brenner never grinned so hard.

  Among the airborne spellcasters that Brenner and Gemry soared above that evening were two hooded men that had just flown past the Shell Towers before they were activated by nightfall, holding a conversation in deliberately hushed tones.

  “Shivark told us to, that’s why.”

  “But Silvalo? Why not another biome where we have more power? More soldiers?”

  “Because, Fensk, you idiot, this is where all Ganthrea’s talented and powerful are coming in five weeks.”

  “The games?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you think anyone knows about the missing scouts?”

  “It’s been a month—I’m sure they’ve noticed. But they don’t know who caused it…and if our decoys worked, they’ll think it was Safronius or Arenattero. This will give the other captains time to start the land scouring in Silvalo.”

  “Oh. Right. How many recruits does he want?”

  “As many as possible. The more we gain, the more authority Shivark said he’d give us. You saw what he did to Paxton when he returned with too few recruits from Gelemensus.”

  “…his final cry was the worst…it still haunts me.”

  “We don’t let that be us. Ever. We complete our mission, get rewarded, and when Shivark finally flips the tables on Rancor, we’ll be the new elite. Now let’s find someplace away from the arenas but near the heart of the city, where we can blend in. We’ll start tomorrow.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Package, the Plans,

  and the Roster

  Aweek after the flight with Gemry, Brenner awoke and went to the Banquet Hall for his breakfast. He was in good spirits: he’d picked up the routine of his new classes…had better control of mental spells, knew more peers, played well in Zabrani games with mixed levels…and best of all, he could fly.

  Every chance he got after classes, he soared with his Volanti spell across the forest behind Valoria, learning new tricks and maneuvers from Gemry. If Gemry was unavailable, he asked Finnegan to join him by borrowing a school carrier carpet.

  As he bit into an apricot for breakfast, a sage arrived at his table.

  “Brenner?”

  “Yes?”

  “This arrived for you,” he said, holding out a brown package about a foot long.

  “Oh…thanks,” Brenner said, wondering what lay inside. Who would send me gifts?

  He tore into the paper, unwrapping a long, brown case. Putting his thumb on the metal fastener, he lifted it with a soft click. Inside the case was a mircon: the body of it was a sleek baton of two woods spiraled seamlessly together, with the bottom end fused into a gleaming reddish rock, and the top end crowned with a purple crystal.

  Woah…my own mircon!

  The conjurers on either side of him let out appreciative whistles.

  As he held the mircon, he looked back in the case. There was a loop of glass at one end and a folded note. Crinkling it open, he read:

  Dear Brenner,

  Two weeks into Valoria, and I heard you’ve already won Zabrani games and leveled up—not too bad! The school mircons are fine, but there’s something to be said for a handcrafted one. I picked this up at Corsmith’s. I asked the owner, Majelda, what mircon she’d recommend for best manipulating multiple elixirs, and she told me this one was the best: it came from volcanic rock, two trees—oakbrawn and conifer—and even has a tip cut from an amethyst gem. Said it took her over a month to fashion.

  I hope you make good use of it. Just like your amulet, do everything but lose it, alright? I have a scouting expedition this week and next, but plan on being off for the Games of Ganthrea at the end of June—we can watch a few games together, or, who knows? Maybe we’ll cheer you on at an Agilis match.

  See you soon.

  The Greatest of Your Uncles,

  Windelm

  P.S. Use the attached holster clip for your mircon when you’d like your hands free. The clip will remember who you are, and only unlock for you.

  Excitement welled up inside as Brenner thought about what he would try the mircon out on first. He picked up the glass-like holster, and as he placed it next to his belt, the middle melted apart, stretched around the belt like hot glue, and fused back together. He brought the mircon to the loop, and a warm sensation met his hand; then the loop cinched around the mircon, holding fast.

  When he wanted to remove the mircon, he simply reached down and touched his palm to the holster and it loosened enough to draw the mircon out. This is cool…

  Finishing his breakfast quicker than normal, Brenner jogged outside the academy walls. He had a few minutes before his morning class. Blue skies and puffs of clouds greeted him, and a light breeze brushed across his skin. He held the mircon out in front of himself, looking a bit like a conductor striking up the forest to play a symphony.

  “Apellatum,” he said, and magic effortlessly shot out of the spiral tip of his mircon. From three hundred yards away, a fallen log lifted with a g
reat squelch, and then zoomed at him in the air, bits of moss trailing from its sides as it flew.

  He willed the log to go faster—it was more than halfway, making a whistling sound. He watched…waited…and let it get within twenty feet of ramming him before thinking, Repello.

  The massive trunk froze as though blocked by an invisible wall. Then it obediently swung in a semicircle and flew back to the forest as lightly as a seed drifting from the canopy. Brenner guided it back to a clearing before letting go of the spell. The tree thundered to the ground.

  Somewhere behind him in the academy came a familiar sound: dimly, he registered the iron bells. But he knew what he wanted to do next, and looked up to the cloud-checkered sky.

  “Volanti.”

  Immediately his feet lifted weightlessly from the ground, and with only the slightest thought of a helicopter take-off, he soared above the rolling hills, over the dark treetops, higher and higher until he could see the full Valoria campus sprawled along the eastside of Arborio, its massive towers and walls stretching up and connecting to the colossal Zabrani stadium in

  the north, and the Agilis stadium in the south.

  He flew higher still, up until he could faintly see the blurred edges of the city marked by the tall Shell Towers, then the major roads leading into Arborio, like rivers leading into a green ocean, up until his body chilled from the cold air currents, up toward his goal: the white cloud-line. Moments later and he could see the majestic curvature of Ganthrea stretching far on the horizon. It really is as big as Earth…I wonder what else is out there…

  He kept pushing upward through the cold, with goosebumps prickling on his arms and legs, and couldn’t help but thinking of how pet birds must feel when they are freed from their cage…and then, he did it: with his free hand, he touched the base of the clouds.

  Looking down past his shoes, some ten thousand feet in the air, the sight was beautiful and in more ways than one, chilling. A gust of wind pushed into him, threatening to rip his mircon from his hand. He brought it to his chest as a shiver of panic rippled through him.

  Brenner had always had a surreal idea that, up close, the clouds would feel like whipped cream, soft and smooth…but, as he put his hand into them again, they felt more like cold, dewy spider-webs.

  With his other mircon, he had to keep telling himself to keep the Volanti spell spinning, but with the new mircon he felt different. He wanted to try something: could he separate the flight loop from the rest of his thoughts? He pushed the idea back, and kept his focus forward. And slowly…very slowly…yes…he found he was able to move the flight spell to another part of his mind, like simultaneously riding a bike and singing a song. Putting it on autopilot freed him to think and focus on his surroundings. Time flowed blissfully. He swooped around and dove through the clouds, perfecting his loops and barrel rolls in the sky.

  Finally, he descended back to the ground with a broad smile on his face, and his new mircon gripped comfortably like a favorite pen. When Brenner walked back into the castle, he suddenly realized with embarrassment how incredibly late he was to Sage Ochram’s class. He hustled to the open courtyard in the middle of Valoria, and waited in the archway until Ochram’s mini-blizzard subsided and the snow melted on the flagstones. Then he quietly stepped into the formation along its side.

  Brenner was dismayed to see that, for being absent-minded most of the time, Ochram’s gaze had swept over to his side, and then onto him.

  “Brenner,” Sage Ochram said brusquely, “finally decided to join us, did you?”

  “Sorry, sir,” Brenner said quickly.

  “See me after class for your work demerits,” Ochram said, then shifted his attention back to the whole group. “Conjurers, prepare for the next physical assault.”

  The sound of balloons expanding filled the courtyard as Auras materialized like shimmering bubbles around each student.

  “Fire assault—now!”

  Brenner’s mind pulled the green and crimson magic from the amulet as he thought, Totum Aura. At once a thick, clear cocoon of magic formed around him just as blue flames flickered across the field, creating a crackling furnace that changed the color of the flagstones from cream and light ochres to glowing dark reds. When he was certain the spell was locked in a loop, which like the flight, took less mental energy than usual, he opened his eyes and looked around. His peers looked most uncomfortable: their fists were clenched tight, most had their eyes closed and faces screwed up in concentration, some had even leaned into awkward, hunched-over positions.

  Then Brenner decided to try something else with his Totum Aura spell: into the oncoming flames, and against the safe wishes from a little voice in his mind, he took a step forward.

  Rather than crack open—and turn him into a charred piece of barbeque—his Aura maintained its strength and moved with him. Fire licked his forcefield on all sides, but could not penetrate it. He took a few more steps, and then, gaining confidence, began to move more quickly up and down between the rows of his peers, many of whom had beads of sweat trickling down their foreheads. The Aura traveled with him, and the flames channeled around it like angry lava around a stubborn stone.

  Sage Ochram said something at the head of the field, and the tongues of fire receded back to the perimeter of the courtyard, fizzling with soft hisses.

  After a couple more drills, Ochram dismissed the conjurers to lunch.

  “Except you, Brenner,” he said with a level tone. “Come see me.”

  Ochram was nearly as tall as he was large, and sternly watched as Brenner trudged across the courtyard, wondering dismally about his punishment—Please don’t let it involve tendrilsnakes. Ochram waited to speak until Brenner stopped just below his bristled gray mustache.

  “And where were you today?”

  “I…” Brenner began, wondering if a lie might help him more, but deciding on the truth, “I got a new mircon…and I had to test it out. See how high I could fly.”

  Sage Ochram muttered something and Brenner felt a prick at his mind, as though a horsefly had nipped him.

  “Indeed you did…” Ochram said, and Brenner realized with mild alarm how quickly the sage had checked his short-term memory. “Tardiness implies dishonor toward your fellow conjurers and your sage. Normally I’d keep you the length of your tardiness to scrub scorch marks and soot from the walls of the courtyard…but, I like to reward honesty…and also, from your classroom performance, I am impressed.”

  Brenner was dumbfounded. “You…are?”

  “Almost any conjurer with basic knowledge of mental magic can project and hold a rigid Aura. But the ability to move with your Aura intact…that takes stamina, and, especially the first time, courage.”

  “Oh,” Brenner said, hardly believing that he was receiving a compliment instead of a scolding. “Thank you.”

  “When typical conjurers move—or, try to move—with their Aura, it dissolves almost instantaneously. And since I was casting a firestorm spell on you, that would have been excruciatingly painful. Spellcasters don’t usually attempt moving with Auras when they’re under attack—so why did you?”

  “Well…my Aura felt secure, and I wasn’t aware it would fade through movement. I just figured it would continue as long as I focused on it.”

  “Hmm,” said Ochram, casting a curious glance at Brenner. “Where are you from again?”

  Having fielded this question quite a bit now, Brenner relayed the story behind his later arrival to Valoria in a more convincing manner.

  Sage Ochram heard him out, then asked bluntly, “Are you trying out for the Valoria teams? For the Games of Ganthrea?”

  “I might…although I hear they’re dangerous,” Brenner said.

  “Well of course there’s some danger. But there’s prizes to be earned—last year’s winners received a couple hundred golders—and, of course, prestige. Many of my former students who made it to the final rounds now hold powerful posts in government or merchant guilds—and they seem to enjoy treating me to din
ners and gifts when they are in town,”—he patted his belly and gestured to jeweled rings on his hand—“Like them, you could make a name for yourself in Arborio, and beyond. Prosperous guilds from other biomes are seeking new talent to lead and protect their interests—and they don’t pay meager amounts, they pay a pre-mi-um.”

  He let the words float like gold dust and settle around Brenner. While the money clearly appealed to Ochram, it was the prestige that hooked into Brenner. Prior to Ganthrea, he had never been cheered at a sport, never praised for his performances, his ziplines, his schoolwork…what would it be like to be seen as a golden athlete?