by Andy Adams
His opponents were near its head, in a triangle. They dodged in sync with the lunging head of the landwurm, getting closer and closer to the white glowbe pulsing behind the beast. Brenner climbed past rubble toward them, keeping one eye on the monster’s tail, as every few seconds it whipped through the ruins, attempting to flatten him.
I could try to get this glowbe, thought Brenner, but the odds aren’t good: 1-in-4, plus potential death by landwurm… With three other glowbes uncontested—by players, anyway—Brenner decided to pursue an outer glowbe, and raced to the edge of the ruins, out of the landwurm’s territory, and not a moment too soon.
A cry of panic pierced the air—Brenner looked over his shoulder. The Arenaterro player, Armin, lay trapped under a marble column. Seeing a meal pinned beneath the rocks, the landwurm slithered away from its glowbe. Brenner was about five hundred yards away—there was no way he could get there in time to help.
“Over here!” Brenner said, hoping to draw its attention. The beast paused. But then with a shrill hiss from its reptilian mouth, it turned, reared back, and dove down—devouring Armin in two sickening crunches.
Brenner’s eyes bulged. He felt sick. Yet somehow Rodick and Jace continued full tilt, grappling with each other to gain the center glowbe while the landwurm was distracted.
There was nothing else for Armin now. Brenner tried blocking the image from his mind. He jumped through the last passageway of columns, and then the stench of rotten mushrooms hit him.
Oozing, speckled marshland covered much of the next section. He walked to the edge of the muddy blob and put a foot in it—it squished, sucking his heel. He yanked his foot out. Yikes…it’s like quicksand. Quickly Brenner climbed back onto a marble column, surveying the field. There were marshlands with far-flung glowbes to his left or right, or a thin, center isthmus running through the quicksand. Past it, the dragon guarded the seventh and last glowbe. Brenner wanted to take the isthmus, but it didn’t have what he needed: a second glowbe.
He jumped down and ran left on the edge of dry land, searching for a route through the marsh. No trees…no big boulders…but what were those? Faint circles flickered in the bog as he ran past. He smiled. Stepping stones. They seemed to be magicked so that they only lit up when he came within twenty feet of them. When he passed, they dulled and blended back into the marsh.
Brenner heard Jace and Rodick scrambling over the ruins behind him, and knew he had to move fast. He drew on the elixir in his amulet, magnified his speed and jumped out to catch the next bright stepping-stone. As he came to land on it, three others lit up, and he hopped between them like burning coals.
The path of stones continued deeper into the soggy marsh, then forked. He had a split-second to decide: the left route coiled—was it a dead-end? Brenner banked hard right. A few jumps later the stones again divided, this time into three rock-paths. He couldn’t afford to lose momentum by stopping, saw the center path aimed toward the glowbe—but then it disappeared into the bog.
He took the left path. Then Brenner panicked, as the stones arced away from his goal, growing further apart. He focused his mind: one—jump—at—a—time. Gradually, they spiraled back to the white glowbe, and at last rewarded him with a clear shot at it. He launched up and snatched it, then jumped through the last decision forks before escaping the stinking marsh.
Heart racing, he touched down on solid ground. He’d captured two glowbes. Brenner looked to his right, and saw Rodick sprinting to the last of the center isthmus, a blue glowbe floating behind in the ruins, while Jace jumped across stones in the far-right marsh, closing in on her glowbe.
That meant they were tied. Whoever gets the final glowbe wins.
Ahead, a roar and a stream of molten heat brought him back to the present. Now he simply had to outsmart and outmaneuver a dragon, which, as he knew about dinosaurs, was kind of like a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but with wide wings that flapped up dust devils, razor-tipped talons, and of course, a mouth filled with fire. He recalled what had happened with the last giant reptile.
Marshaling his courage, Brenner sped forward, closing the gap on Rodick, but was thrown off his feet by a tremor and sound of iron smashing rock—the dragon had stamped a clawed foot and triggered an earth-quake. Pushing himself to his feet, Brenner again raced after Rodick through a stand of birch trees.
Waiting in the clearing up ahead, the dragon, armored in metallic, blood red scales, narrowed its vertical slitted eyes, snorted a black haze of smoke, and flattened its ears, ready to fight. Ringed around the dragon were maple trees and thick, marble columns. The two players wove through the birch tree grove, then right up to and past the circle of columns. The dragon wasted no time showing them its intentions: as Rodick and Brenner broke into its territory, it blew a jet of orange fire straight at them, forcing them to retreat and dive for cover.
Rodick tumbled behind a stand of maples on the right; Brenner dashed behind a white column on the left. The dragon stomped toward Brenner, and the sound of iron scraping stone hit him. But before the dragon could cleave Brenner’s marble column in two, it stopped.
Brenner peeked out. The dragon’s wild eyes were still fixed on him, its scaly chest heaving, the fire inside recharging. He realized the only thing preventing the beast from diving at him was an iron band wrapped around its hind leg, which was anchored by a titanic chain to a stake in the middle of the clearing. Brenner estimated the dragon had about two hundred feet of movement around the center stake, above which hovered the final frosted white glowbe.
He had to know the dragon’s range—and what would trigger a reaction. Sprinting out from behind his column, Brenner pushed the limits of his elixir, sprinting in a tight spiral around the creature.
But the dragon was not stupid. It only gave chase when Brenner came within reach—and was electrifyingly fast. Right around two hundred feet, it leapt at him, and if Brenner hadn’t pulled out of the spiral immediately, the crushing jaws of the beast would have snapped him in two. He retreated to the far side of the ring, panting behind maple trees, watching Rodick to see what tactics he’d try against the red dragon.
Like a determined running back, Rodick charged out from the trees, then made a zig-zag pattern toward the center. But the dragon matched him move for move, and after a few close-calls, Rodick backtracked. As Brenner caught his breath, Jace ran to a stand of trees on Rodick’s side.
Brenner realized a direct attack would never work. To win, he’d need to perform an intricate dance: pressing in, feinting back, and gradually gaining ground when the dragon was distracted with his opponents.
The dragon inhaled, its scaly stomach expanding to the size of a yacht, then it spewed a red-orange plume of fire, strafing twenty trees from Rodick over to Jace.
Rodick jumped through the blaze, and darted closer into the circle, while Jace blocked with a pillar, then ran counterclockwise into the clearing. The dragon zeroed in on Rodick, cutting off his access to the center. As Rodick feinted back, Brenner sprinted behind the beast—gaining half the distance to the glowbe before the dragon saw him out of the corner of its eye. It whirled around and charged toward Brenner, the ground quaking from its clawed tonnage. No! he thought, turning and sprinting back for his life.
A wave of fire flew over Brenner’s shoulder; he cut away to the safety of the pillars, blood pounding in his ears, but the heat persisted. That’s when Brenner realized his shirt was on fire. Beating his hands against it, he rolled to the ground, crying out. Dust and dirt whoomphed around him; it felt like he touched his shoulder to an oven’s inner coil, until finally he smothered the flame. His shoulder stung, and an acrid smell surrounded him. He had lost his advantage, and nearly his life.
He walked to the pillar, forcing his attention back to the clearing, where Jace and Rodick looked on the verge of grabbing the glowbe. They had distracted the dragon on either side, cutting in and out from forty feet away; the dragon swerved its head back and forth, snapping its jaws in frustration. Then it blew a stream of fire at Rod
ick, who lunged over to Jace’s side. She pushed him away, pausing her run. The dragon turned to them both, reared up on its hind legs and whipped its thick-veined wings forward, generating a sudden squall that threw them airborne like seeds in a windstorm. It roared in triumph and trampled after them.
With the dragon’s back to him, Brenner saw his window open. He pushed his pain aside, summoned his strength, and dashed to the center with all his speed.
Go!
Two hundred feet…one-fifty…a hundred…seventy…misfortune.
Jace and Rodick had escaped behind columns, and the dragon turned around, seeing Brenner darting toward the glowbe. In a thunderous fury, it crashed at Brenner on all fours, belly scraping against the ground as it opened its fanged mouth and gave a guttural roar.
The two sped headfirst at the middle, the ground crunching with each dragon stride. And suddenly Brenner knew the dragon would reach the glowbe first. But he was too close to pull away now.
Tilting his chest forward, Brenner lowered his center of gravity as he sprinted—like a king-cobra, the head of the dragon struck at him—and in that split-second, Brenner vaulted up as high as he could, front-flipping. He felt the tip of his boot hit its snout—a crunch of teeth gnashed beneath him—and then he was falling.
He wouldn’t reach the glowbe.
Plummeting down onto the dragon’s back, he saw the glowbe on the other side of the creature, and another figure sprinting full-out across the arena. Brenner landed in a sprawl on the hard scales of the dragon, cutting his hand. He shoved himself up, ran down the spine, through the wings—Rodick was racing from the other side unopposed, and would soon hit the glowbe first unless—
Brenner turned sideways off the dragon like he was running off a cliff, and dove for the glowbe. Rodick leaped forward, a hungry grin on his face.
But it was Brenner’s outstretched fingers that skimmed against the glowbe first; it turned jade green; and midair Rodick collided into him with a loud crack. They fell to the ground in a heap as the dragon whirled around, jaws open.
Brenner tried scrambling to his feet to run, but knew, this time, he wouldn’t be fast enough.
With a snarl, the dragon tore through the air at him—and a dozen white spells slammed into it. Brenner jumped back as the beast’s head crashed to the ground, inches from where he’d been. Officials converged on the scene, shooting more spells at the dragon, until it became safely immobilized.
“Fans of Ganthrea,” boomed out Sovereign Drusus from above, “we have our champion: from Silvalo, Brenner Wahlridge!”
He looked up, and the sounds of the arena came rushing back.
The cheers of the crowd rumbled in his chest.
He’d done it. He had won.
An official approached him, patting Brenner on the back and holding an arm forward. “This way if you please,” he said, inviting Brenner, then Rodick and then Jace to follow him onto a stone dais that was, strangely, rising out of the ground. They jumped onto it, and then the granite tower shook and grew upward, like a lance pushing up through the cracked earth. Brenner felt like he was watching himself from above, the shock of winning overshadowing the dull pain coming from his hand and shoulder.
At the top of the pedestal, Sovereign Sorcerer Drusus alighted from the sky. “Although he did not live to the end of the final round,” said Drusus to the crowd, “Armin Kandar from Arenaterro played bravely. Let us have a moment of reflection for that valiant player, lost while competing in the highest honor of Agilis.”
The hundreds of thousands of fans stopped their shouts and chants. A peculiar calm swept over the stadium.
“Thank you,” continued Drusus, then turned his attention to Jace and Rodick. “And for these two Agilis players, who tied for second with two glowbes apiece, we award their choice of two-hundred and fifty golders, or, admittance into their home government in the department of their choice. Jace?”
“I’ll take leadership in Vispaludem,” said Jace, “in the Department of Landform Planning.” Drusus nodded at her, reached over to his side, and handed her a shimmering medal.
Rodick stepped forward. “I’ll take the golders,” he said, extending a hand.
Drusus nodded, and again reached down, giving him a large coin bag that looked to weigh at least five pounds.
“And for our champion, Brenner Walhridge, with three glowbes,” Drusus said in a pleased voice, “the choice of five hundred golders, a place in Biome leadership, or an infusion of an elixir color.”
An attendant flew to Drusus carrying a platter with a domed lid. Drusus took it, then pulled off the cover, revealing an elaborate golden platter, with seven bowls carved into its surface, each filled with a different rainbow color of the biomes, making the treasure appear like an artist’s palette. “Brenner?” Drusus said, and he felt himself yanked back to reality. He didn’t really want leadership yet, or know what he would do with that political power—so it came down to riches or more magic.
The five hundred golders looked very appealing. He could buy his mircon, and have some to help Gemry out, too…but when he considered what he was capable of now, and what might be unlocked with the addition of new elixir…he could always work to earn more money…
“I’d like the elixir, please,” Brenner said, looking up at Sovereign Drusus.
“A fine choice,” Drusus said in his arena voice, before reducing it for his next question. “And which color?” He looked at the swirling green and red amulet hanging from Brenner’s neck. “Do you want to add to the colors you have, or gain a different source?”
Brenner gazed at the seven shimmering colors on the golden platter… recalling a passage from the book he had read about Elixirs, and which of them boosted mental magic, ingenuity, and persuasion…
“Blue elixir, please.”
“Very well,” Drusus said, then amplified his voice, “Supporters, please enjoy the seven-colored fireworks, and the musical talents of the Silvalo Strings and Singers.” He waved his hand at waiting attendants on the sides of the arena, and immediately fountains of fireworks shot from the sides, flying heavenward and bursting into shimmering colors and animated pictures above—red roses waving in the wind, purple and blue sailboats racing into the clouds, and yellow winged aviamirs that flew around the stadium before vanishing.
Music accompanied the magical fireworks, beginning with low base notes and surged into a mixture of the finest string sounds Brenner had ever heard, reminding him of crescendos in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony.
While the celebration of sights and sounds engulfed the stadium, Sovereign Drusus turned to Brenner and asked, “Would you like the blue elixir channeled into a new amulet, or would you like to see if it can be added to your amulet?”
Brenner hesitated, and Drusus added, “If I pour the elixir into your amulet, it will enhance your abilities, but, since it has two elixirs already, they could repel the new one, breaking your amulet and leaking out in the process. I will try and stop that before too much is lost.”
Brenner looked over at Rodick, noticing his blue and red amulet… I could be even faster than him, and produce superior spells…if I just…
“Please…add it to the amulet.”
“As you wish.”
Drusus muttered an incantation to himself, pointing his mircon at the blue swirling bowl, and the elixir floated out like a gaseous vapor, and over to Brenner’s amulet. He flinched.
The blue elixir spilled into the amulet, and as it did, he felt it growing warmer—would it accept or repel the new elixir? The amulet vibrated, as if in protest, then settled. Drusus slowed the decanting, his cautious eyes flicking from the source bowl to Brenner’s; presently, when the blue elixir continued trickling in without complications, Drusus expedited the spell, and a great torrent of blue magic cascaded into Brenner’s amulet. Then it was complete.
“Your blue elixir, freshly sourced from Aquaperni, now at your command.” Drusus said, a smile hinting behind his red beard. “Use it well.”
Brenner held his amulet in his hand, marveling at how the reds, greens and blues swirled around one another, but never mixed. The amulet felt only a tad heavier, but when he rested it on his chest, he felt lighter.
With a swell, the orchestra finished their symphony, and the crowd applauded. Sovereign Drusus presented the winners to the jubilant fans once more, and then a white robed official held open a metal chest to each of the three. They collected their mircons. As they turned to go, Jace said, “Good game, Brenner.”
“You too, Jace. And good luck in your new position.”
Rodick merely scowled at them, clearly disappointed he hadn’t won.
Brenner cast his Volanti spell and, with less effort than before, flew to find Gemry, Finnegan, Windelm, and Sherry in the stands.
An hour later, after they had flown over the stadium and decided on where to have a celebratory feast—Finnegan had again insisted they go to Hutch & Sons for the afterparty apres—Brenner finally felt his nerves settle from the day. Sherry had sent a healing spell at his shoulder, and the skin closed together around his burn wound.
