The Games of Ganthrea

by Andy Adams

  “Think about it,” Sage Ochram said, cutting into Brenner’s daydream, “and know that I can be of assistance along the way. Well, time for lunch then. Remember, next time you’re late, plan on getting your robes covered in soot and grime.”

  “Yes, Sage Ochram. Thank you.”

  Ochram nodded and waved him off, then gathered odd stones from behind his instructor’s pedestal and put them into a leather satchel.

  Brenner quickly moved to the corridors, ate a light lunch, and then wound his way to the familiar outdoor classroom of his first instructor, giving himself fifteen full minutes before Bianca’s afternoon Agilis regimen.

  When Brenner crossed under a stone archway outside onto the dark geen lawn, he saw Sage Shastrel floating three feet in the air with his legs crisscrossed, his eyes closed, and a look of serenity on his face.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Sage,” Brenner said, approaching him. “I have something to return to you.”

  Slowly, Shastrel opened his eyes and peered down at Brenner, who was holding the wood mircon out to him.

  “Ah yes,” said Shastrel. “and I see you didn’t break it. Very good.”

  Or lose it, Brenner thought with relief, thankful for Finnegan’s help.

  “You got a new one?” Shastrel asked, opening his hand.

  “Yes. A composite.” Brenner handed the carved wand to him.

  “Must make the academy mircon seem slow in comparison, yes?”

  “Yeah…this one seems to channel my magic better.”

  “One of the advantages of a composite, especially when one holds multiple elixirs.”

  Wordlessly, Shastrel flicked his own wand, and the old mircon hovered over to his satchel, and like a feather, floated inside his bag, which then primly shut itself. “Thank you for returning the mircon in good condition.” He nodded and then closed his eyes again, which Brenner took as a signal that he desired peace.

  As Brenner walked to the archway, Shastrel unexpectedly broke the silence. “Most spellcasters would call me a fool, but I have to tell you, it’s not always in one’s best interest to compete in the Games of Ganthrea. Prematurely, that is.”

  Brenner turned to look at his levitating instructor. “Why?”

  “People don’t just play for the love of the game: they play to win. At all costs.”

  Brenner considered his words, which seemed to go against the dangers he’d encountered so far. “I thought Valoria prided itself on producing brave spellcasters?”

  “It does…and you certainly need that to play…but bravery does not guarantee emerging from the Games alive.”

  As Brenner considered this, the silver bells in the academy bell tower rang out with light peals, signaling the start of the afternoon session.

  “Thanks for the advice, Sage Shastrel…I better get going.”

  “You’re welcome. If you are offered a spot on the team, decide on your own whether you to play. Don’t let the wrong reasons push you into it.”

  Brenner nodded, then joined his group of conjurers as Bianca led them toward the dense forest, carrying a chest of glowbes in her arms.

  “Stow your mircons,” Bianca ordered, “and prepare for Agilis. Play hard, but know the limits to your jumps. I don’t want any unnecessary injuries before our next Zabrani matches.”

  Brenner placed his mircon in his crystal holster on his waist, and smiled when it automatically tightened. He turned his attention to the glowbes flying like silver hummingbirds through the forest canopy, then jumped on a thick bough of a nearby oakbrawn and began chasing his first glowbe, still thinking about the conflicting advice from Sages Ochram and Shastrel.

  Three weeks later, and with extra flight practice with Gemry, Brenner had gained promotion into the level six conjurers. With the new gold belt around his waist, he played Zabrani as a flyer—a knight, as the rules called it—and was able to keep pace with some of the best of his team. While he didn’t always capture glowbes in the scrimmages between spellcasters, he played well, which was good because the sages were using the inter-level games to decide which spellcasters would be asked to play for Valoria and the forested territory of Silvalo during the Games of Ganthrea.

  Throughout his classes, his weekends working with Finnegan, or the occasional evening touring the city with Gemry, conflicting thoughts about the games swirled through Brenner’s mind: what sort of recognition could I get by playing? How much money is at stake, and what doors could open by winning? How dangerous were the other spellcasters? Would they be like Sorian, trying to cripple opponents in order to win? The old Brenner had been limited to watching from the sidelines on Earth, but now that he was on equal footing, this new version of himself wanted to see just what he was capable of doing. And the games of Agilis and Zabrani, in spite of, or perhaps because of, the dangers, were just pure fun.

  If the Games had been a common topic of conversation the month before the world event, during the last few days at Valoria they were the only thing discussed. For tomorrow, Monday, marked one week until the seven-day tournament began, and more importantly, was the day the athletes for the three teams of Valoria were finalized.

  At his previous schools, Brenner had never been seriously considered for a team, let alone an elite one, and as a result his skin prickled on and off with anxiety and excitement.

  Throughout Monday he absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair, eager to know if his progress over the last month was enough to earn a spot on the roster for one of the three sports. With more energy than usual he bounded from morning classes to lunch and then to afternoon practice with his cohort of level six conjurers.

  Clouds rolled in after practice, and as his group trooped inside the castle for evening supper, news whirled through the squad: the rosters were posted. Brenner’s heart beat louder, and his stomach felt like the time Gemry had tilted him sideways off Velvo.

  Winding through the tunnels, they came to a standstill outside the Banquet Hall: all of Valoria’s spellcasters crowded by the rosters just inside the doors, causing a bottleneck. Slowly making his way through the swarm of excited spellcasters, he saw some students squeal with delight and run off to find their friends, but many more consulted the lists and let out groans of disappointment.

  At last, he made it inside the hall, then closer to the front of the line, until finally it was his turn to see the lists.

  He checked the Contendir roster first—mainly to see if other spellcasters he knew were on it, since he hadn’t even played the sport with his cohort. As suspected, he saw that of the thirty spellcasters, he was not listed as one to represent Valoria. But Gemry was. He stepped over to the Zabrani posting, scanning the names down…down…down…and felt a stab of disappointment: he hadn’t made the cut for Zabrani, either.

  Gemry, however, had been selected for both of the higher complexity games, and he felt a little ashamed of himself for being jealous of her. She does have a lot more experience than me…he rationalized, but deep inside he’d wanted to be picked, to be validated.

  Moving to the last poster, for Agilis, he read the names of students…and his feelings of dejection grew as he neared the final names, but then, with a ripple of excitement tingling up in his spine, he saw that on the last slot of the chosen competitors was the name Wahlridge, Brenner.

  I made it. I’m going to play. A huge grin grew on his face.

  “Don’t smile too hard, Brenner,” a familiar voice jostled him.

  He looked around, “Oh, hey Finnegan!”

  “So, you made the Agilis team, huh? Crown me a sovereign—not bad for your first year!” Finnegan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

  “Thanks,” he replied, still feeling a bit surreal. As the two moved out through the crowd of students to the banquet tables, a flicker of light caught a strip of silver around Finnegan’s waist. “Hey—nice job on your promotion!”

  “They had to move me up sometime really,” Finnegan explained, “And when I finally moved Shastrel’s boulders without yelling my head off
to cast the spell, I think that was the deciding factor.”

  “Way to go, Finnegan. That’s got to feel good getting away from Sorian’s squad.”

  “Like leaving a dunghill and moving to paradise.”

  Brenner laughed. “Will you be training under Bianca? You’d like her: she’s straightforward and doesn’t play favorites.”

  “Bianca could use a whip and run us into the ground, and she would still be better than Sorian.”

  They both laughed.

  “Hey, you up for free time in the stadium later?”

  “Count me in.”

  After dinner, Brenner and Finnegan practiced in the Agilis stadium, racing between trees and around stone ramps, and shooting glowbes with Arcyndo spells for target practice. Pausing to catch his breath, Brenner saw Gemry emerge from the archway entrance. He waved.

  Walking up to him, Gemry said, “I saw you earned yourself a spot on the Agilis squad.” She put her hands on her hips and gave him a glowing smile, which made him forget how tired he was. “I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks, Gemry. It’s good, but not nearly as cool as your selection to both Zabrani and Contendir. That’s amazing.”

  “Well thank you,” she said, “but when you get to my level, you’re pretty much expected to be selected to one or the other. So, for your Agilis, what obstacles do you think they’ll include this year?”

  “I don’t know…huge snakes?”

  “Dragons—they’ve gotta have some dragons,” Finnegan cut in, before taking aim and shooting a glowbe in the distance.

  “They haven’t had dragons in ten years,” Gemry said. “The last ones broke the protective barrier of the field and shot fire into the crowd at Montadaux. Sovereign Drusus would be reckless if he wants to risk dragon-fire in the heart of our tree city.”

  “Maybe,” Finnegan said, “but my dad says that’s why so many people are coming to the Games. They expect a higher level of danger now that they increased the prize winnings from last year in Safronius.”

  “Apart from golders, what can you win?” asked Brenner.

  Both Finnegan and Gemry looked at him like he was an idiot.

  “Only your choice of elixir, or a government post,” Finnegan said.

  “Have you won before?” he asked Gemry.

  “I came close last year,” Gemry said, looking out to the field. “My father—I mean, my parents—expect that I will place in the winner’s circle in at least one event this year.” She sighed and was silent a moment, which was punctuated only by the distant shots of other spellcasters.

  “Let me know if I can help you prepare,” Brenner said.

  “It’s fine,” said Gemry, as if waking from a dream, “I’ll be ready.”

  The following week swept by quicker than the previous three. The biggest change—and a welcome one at that—was that Sage Ochram seemed to be actively trying to not accidentally blast Brenner with deadly heat or hail spells. Although he did forget to de-ice the floor after the session before them, and several of Brenner’s squad mates slipped past the threshold and suffered bruises.

  Brenner found an official green Agilis uniform and garments next to his bed one morning, and the sages allowed him extra time in the afternoons to practice his sprints and aerobatics in the Agilis stadium. Unlike the Agilis and Contendir players, whose games depended on solo efforts, the Zabrani team was encouraged to practice together, so Brenner watched a few sessions of Gemry and the team practicing skirmishes and flight patterns.

  Valoria’s classes finished for the season on Friday; Brenner heard closing remarks that day in the Banquet Hall from Spellmaster Kinigree, who, Finnegan informed him, was the Chief Sage of Valoria. Spellmaster Kinigree, a shaggy, gray-haired man of average height but surrounded by a palpable glow of power, thanked the students for their hard work over the semesters, informed them of the outdoor graduation on Saturday for students that had reached the summer of their eighteenth year, and told them that he and the sages would decide over the week of the Games what levels, if any, the spellcasters would advance to for the fall session. Students were welcome to stay at the castle for the week of the Games and decide by Monday morning whether to go back to their families or off to summer jobs.

  So, on Saturday, having no friends who were graduating and not having to wash dishes until the evening, Brenner and Finnegan explored some of the new merchant stalls from foreign biomes. Finnegan nearly got his finger pinched off when he got too close to an overgrown lobster scuttling across a butcher’s table. For his part, Brenner enjoyed watching some of the street performers—jugglers throwing everything from steel machetes to live iguanas and even a couple of young kids from the audience—although he suspected another spellcaster was hiding nearby, assisting the act with a levitating spell.

  Gemry had had to work Saturday and Sunday, but was allowed to have Sunday evening off since many customers were retiring early in preparation for the Games on Monday. And lucky for Brenner, she chose to take him for a ride. They sat together at sunset, high on her carrier carpet, Velvo, floating in the humid upper canopy along the western entrance of Arborio, talking about last week, the Games, and watching the throngs of travelers. Scores of spellcasters with amulets and colored capes flew past the Shell Towers, while thousands more without elixir pushed handcarts, rode animals, or traveled in caravans along the road of Via Arborio. Some of the walkers caught Brenner’s eye.

  “Hey, Gemry, those people holding the bridles of the camels, are they...”

  “Slaves? Yes. You can tell by the collars.”

  Brenner looked more closely, and faintly saw some of the copper collars showing above their tunics.

  “Doesn’t that seem…wrong?” he asked, looking at her.

  “Well, yeah,” Gemry said, “but it’s just part of life. It would take a decree from our Sovereign, and more than likely a major war among the wealthy magnates, to change it.”

  “Is that likely?”

  “About as likely as a dragon hatching itself.”

  “So…that’s a never, right?” he asked.

  She gave him a wide-eyed look and spoke to him slowly, like a child: “As far as I know, it still takes a mommy dragon, and a daddy dragon—”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, rocking his shoulder against hers. He watched the owners sitting high on the cushions of their stagecoaches, while their slaves below slowly funneled past the towers. They ranged in age. Some were young, which reminded him of that girl from alley, Rinn, and how desperate she seemed to be free. He wanted to tell Gemry about where he really came from, and how slavery had been outlawed for over a hundred and fifty years. But instead he said lamely, “Well…that’s too bad.”

  “It is,” said Gemry simply. “But since the elixir magnates have the most power, use the most slaves, and have no reason to help eliminate slavery,

  that’s how it will probably stay.”

  Brenner was silent.

  “Hey,” she said, nudging him. “Cheer up. Let’s start with what we can control—our performance at the games. They only happen once a year, will lead to great things for us, and I, for one, am going to win.” She smiled and laced her fingers with his own, creating a tingle that flowed from her touch up his arm. “Are you with me?”

  Brenner couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m with you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Games of Ganthrea

  The early rays of dawn illuminated Brenner’s dormitory, starting the June summer solstice, and with it, the Games of Ganthrea.

  After breakfast, the sages ordered the Agilis team to meet at the southern stadium, which buzzed loudly with hundreds of thousands of spectators, all of whom, Brenner realized, would be judging their performance. Clad in a green and black uniform with a short cape on the outside, and feeling a bit queasy and jittery on the inside, Brenner sat with the other Agilis players in a designated section just above the field.

  Seven teams were spaced around the field in a speckled rainbow configuration, with the
biggest fans of their home biome seated behind them, waving banners, and donned with bright face-paint. Brenner’s section of Valoria academy was centered between the golden yellow uniforms of Safronius players to the right, and to the left sat players in brilliant blue uniforms that seemed to shimmer like light rippling on water. That must be Aquaperni, he thought.

  A loud clang of bells rang out across the stadium and the crowd grew quieter. An older wizard with a weathered, red beard strode out from an entrance on the stadium floor, then flew gracefully up into the center of the arena, until he was several hundred feet above the mostly flat dirt. “Spellcasters, Agilis players, and guests from the seven biomes of Ganthrea,” he said in a strong voice that echoed around the stadium, “I’m Donavon Drusus, Sovereign Wizard of Silvalo, and the city of Arborio is proud to welcome you to the first day of the Games of Ganthrea.” He spread his arms wide as the crowd cheered. “Please also welcome the sovereigns from the other six biomes."