A Race of Trials

  She strode back out of the door before I could stop her, slamming it in her wake.

  I looked back down at Yelena, still sleeping, but more calmly now. I felt acid building up at the back of my throat, and the same sick, queasy feeling I’d had in my dream.

  I was doing something very wrong here, but I had no idea what it was.

  Ruby

  “Are you ready?” Ash called from outside my bedroom. I had just finished dressing in my sentry gear, and had noticed a crowd forming below in the grounds of the castle.

  “Yeah, come in,” I answered, watching the red-robed sentries milling about near the portcullis.

  “Do you think the trial’s happening somewhere in the castle?” I asked Ash when he entered. He came to stand next to me, and together we looked out over the crowd.

  “Certainly looks like it. Only one way to find out.”

  He led the way back into the living quarters, looking around at all the makeshift beds. We picked our way through the piles of bedding and reached the front door. Ash pushed against it, and the guards opened it the rest of the way, smiling at Ash as if he was their own personal hero.

  “Hello, Ashbik. Good luck today.” One of them grinned. “Show that Hellswan what you’re made of.” They both merrily thumped him on the back, and then we continued our journey to the entrance hall.

  Once we arrived, the crowds almost swamped us. Ministers hurried to and fro, and along either side of the hallway merchants had set up stands—fruits, nuts, strange-smelling drinks—everything the spectators could possibly want to make their experience at the trials more enjoyable. I felt disgusted at how opportunistic they were being.

  “Don’t you think that’s a little… tasteless?” I hissed at Ash as we passed a gnarled old man selling wood-whittled figurines of the champions.

  Ash gave a short bark of laughter. “I suppose so, but it doesn’t bother me. We don’t have your TV sets, remember? We’ve got to enjoy the entertainment when it comes around.”

  As we jostled through the crowd, I could see the back of Hazel’s head, and Tejus looming next to her. I kept my eyes on them, hoping that they might have more information about the location of the trial.

  “Do you think Tejus gets a heads-up?” I asked Ash, the thought just occurring to me. Obviously the ministers wanted Tejus to win, and I wondered if this went as far as letting him in on vital information about the trials.

  “I don’t know.” Ash frowned. “I’ve been looking for signs, but when it came to the unity trial he was just as bewildered as the rest of us. I don’t think the ministers would go so far as to cheat outright… They tend to be more ‘bend the rules’ kind of people, not break them completely.”

  I thought back to the honesty trial and how the minister of ceremonies had tried to ignore the advice of Queen Trina and the watcher, and thought that Ash might be being a bit optimistic.

  We finally escaped the hallway and entered the courtyard. It was no less busy here, but the air wasn’t so overwhelmed with spices and roasting meat.

  “Champions this way!” called out a minister, waving a large black flag to get our attention.

  Ash led the way as the crowds started to part to let us through. There were lots of well-wishers on either side of us, and not just cheering Ash either. They called my name too, shouting words of encouragement. I was glad for it. As the trial neared, I felt the familiar knot of anxiety building up in my stomach.

  The champions formed a small line in front of the minister. I counted only seven left of the twenty champions who had started. I was taken aback by how many had been knocked out in the previous trials. I hadn’t been concentrating on the others, just obsessively keeping track of Ash’s and Tejus’s scores.

  Tejus was standing at the front of the line, and we were standing at the back. The minister lowered the flag, and beckoned us to march forward. We were flanked on either side by red-robed watchers, who stared ahead, unflinching, and didn’t make a sound.

  The procession proceeded into another large courtyard of the castle, and then through yet another archway and courtyard, till we eventually entered a huge garden. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the one Ash had taken me to—that one had been wild and lush, whereas this was carefully manicured with neat lawns and geometrical hedges.

  We waited on a stone patio, the rest of the champions looking as baffled as I was about what the next trial could possibly entail.

  Soon, the crowd started to form behind us at the far end of the garden. There were no seats this time, so most were sitting on the lawns or finding places to perch on stone statues of vultures and bull-horses. They were waving flags and banners, most of them with Ash’s name written on them.

  Above us a huge balcony overhung the lawn, and as I backed to the end of the patio I could see the ministers and royals taking their seats. Among them was Queen Trina. She wore the same deep blue robes I’d seen her in previously, but today she was wearing an elaborate golden headpiece that entwined with her dark hair in delicate chains. She was a beautiful woman, but her face was so severe and uncompromising that I found her strangely repulsive.

  I shook the thought away and turned back to Ash.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Confident,” he murmured, “though I’ve no idea why. I’ve just got a good feeling about this one.”

  “Good.” I smiled, privately thinking that apparently today I’d be doing the worrying for both of us.

  “Champions, welcome!”

  The minister of ceremonies stepped forward onto the patio, standing between us and the gathered crowds in a spot where the royals and officials on the balcony could see him clearly.

  “After the last two trials, we are taking a far gentler approach to today’s proceedings, but it is no less vital and important.” He wagged his bony finger at us. “It is paramount that our chosen king embodies all the qualities of great leadership. Along with traditional attributes of a king, those who rule Nevertide must be able to create, as well as command, in order that we can progress as a great civilization.”

  The crowd roared, and the minister looked around, pleased at the effect his words were having on the people. The ministers in the royal box looked as stone-faced as always, unmoved by his speech. Queen Trina just looked bored.

  “At the end of the patio, you will each find a plot of earth. Within the earth is a plant, not yet grown; much like yourselves, it is waiting for the chance to bloom and prosper, to show Nevertide what it truly is. Champions, your task is to promote that growth—the winner will be the one who creates the most awe-inspiring and precious flower, a full bloom.”

  What?

  I turned to Ash. “I don’t understand a word of this,” I whispered. “What the heck is he talking about? How are you going to make something grow?”

  Ash looked despondent but whispered back, “Mind power, of course. In lesser organisms, sentries can generate growth. I’ve never tried it before. It’s a very old practice.”

  I looked around at the other sentries. Some looked as glum as Ash at the prospect, others were trying not to laugh at such an unheroic trial. Tejus looked as stone-faced as always, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I very much doubted the prince of darkness had ever taken the time to learn how to speed up the growth of a flower.

  “The trial begins when the horn sounds. Take your places, champions!” the minister announced.

  We all stepped off the patio, and I saw the small patches of brown earth cut into the perfect lawn—seven plots of earth, each about a foot wide and long.

  “This is going to take a lot,” Ash mumbled at me. “If it starts to hurt, or you get a headache or anything, just tell me.”

  He sat down in front of the plot of earth. All the other sentries did the same, while the humans sat down behind them, waiting to have our energy sucked until the miracle happened. I was still having a hard time believing that this could be done.

  I looked over at Hazel. She caught my eye and shook her he
ad in astonishment, then turned back to Tejus.

  “Is there anything specifically I can do?” I asked Ash.

  “No. I don’t think so. Just try sending me as much energy as you can. I don’t know how this is even going to work…” He trailed off into silence.

  The horn sounded, low and long. The trial had begun.

  Not long after, I felt Ash pulling on my energy. I kept pushing what I could outward toward him, but whatever I was providing didn’t seem enough. Nothing was growing in his plot of earth, but his shirt was damp with sweat from the exertion, and his shoulders hunched over with fatigue.

  Looking over at the other plots was only slightly encouraging. None of them had made any progress either. I could hear shuffling and yawning coming from the crowd. It was hardly the most entertaining spectator sport—basically the equivalent of watching paint dry. Jeez. Even I was drifting off.

  I tried to re-focus. I pushed out another ‘shove’ of energy in Ash’s direction, but it still felt futile. I wondered if I was taking the wrong approach. If this trial was about creation, then maybe I also needed to become a bit more creative.

  The more powerful mind-melds that Ash and I had shared were when we’d sent pictures and images across to one another. Maybe that was the approach I needed to take. The memory to share was easy. I pictured us back in the secret garden—the amazing flowers that we’d seen, the soft light and the brilliant greenery that had grown wild from every inch of space in the earth. I tried to incorporate the smells as well—the honeysuckle and jasmine fragrances, and the warm smell of the soil.

  As I sent the memory out to Ash, I felt a returning echo of peace and tranquility floating from him. He sat up straight, and though the tension in his body was still there, it now seemed purposeful rather than hopeless.

  I kept going with the image, and when I’d exhausted all that I could remember, I found myself imagining the picnic that we’d never had. I was so deep in my fantasy that I seemed to lose sight of the trial and everything around me except the solid, steadying breaths of Ash sitting in front of me.

  In my head, we were sitting under the tree again, the grass covered in a blanket that I recognized from home. Ash was leaning against the bark, popping bright red strawberries in his mouth and smiling lazily over at me. The sun was warm on our faces, and a slight breeze kept tangling my hair. Ash leant toward me, offering out a berry. When I took it, the tips of our fingers touched, and for a short moment all I was aware of was Ash’s skin against my own, and the electricity whirring around my body in response.

  The fantasy broke. Hastily I returned to the pictures of the garden, focusing on the bright petals, back to feeding Ash inspiration.

  I felt an excitement building up in him, traveling along the mental chain we were sharing. Startled, I opened my eyes and looked at the earth plot. It was no longer empty.

  A thick stem, about a meter high, had grown out of the ground. It was bright green, with small leaves branching off and thin grassy tendrils that reminded me of sweet pea. At the top of the stem was a giant bud, green at the bottom, but moving into shades of pale colors at its tip.

  I couldn’t help but squeeze Ash excitedly on the arm. His cool hand closed over mine briefly in thanks, and then he returned to focusing on his unfinished plant.

  Looking over at the other plots of earth, I was surprised, and dismayed, to find that Tejus’s plant was growing just as well as Ash’s—with a large bud, still unflowered, at the top of his equally high stem. Some of the others were almost there, with stems in place but without buds, and these I could see growing more clearly. It was incredible, like watching a nature video on fast-forward, a process that was usually so slow that it was barely perceptible to the human eye, was happening at unprecedented speed. I could only stare, marveling at the nuances of the sentries’ power.

  Ash’s flower started to bloom.

  The petals opened, agonizingly slowly, to reveal full, large petals—their hue starting at a brilliant white, then morphing into bright splashes of blue, strawberry reds, pinks and a light gold dusting of pollen dancing on each one. The stigma was a bright purple and turquoise blue, with dark black dots at its very top. I gasped in astonishment, and the crowd, now roused out of their boredom, took a collective intake of breath, and expelled it with ‘ahhs’ and ‘oohs’.

  I quickly glanced at Tejus’s plot. His flower had bloomed just as brightly and brilliantly as Ash’s. His colors were darker, midnight blues as opposed to Ash’s bright ones, and blood reds, ochres and deep bronze gold hues.

  How are they going to choose?

  It struck me how subjective the entire thing was—who was to decide if Ash’s was the more brilliant, or Tejus’s? I looked from one to the other, and saw that the watchers were doing the same from the patio.

  A sudden movement made me look over at Tejus’s flower again. One of the petals seemed to be jerking and moving of its own will.

  Maybe it’s dying!

  I watched, holding my breath, as the petal started to flutter in the breeze. It moved rapidly, back and forth, generating a slight hum in the air. Then I realized what it was.

  A butterfly.

  Its wings were as large as the petals that had held it, and after a few more flutters, it floated up in the air, dancing around the flower—showing the bright kaleidoscope of color that made up its form.

  The crowd applauded. Even I wanted to applaud.

  How on earth did he do that? I wondered. I remembered what Ash had told me—about lesser organisms being manipulated for growth. Had Tejus just managed to take a caterpillar catalyst and transform it into a butterfly at the same time as he grew the flower? I could think of no other alternative theory.

  “Well!” The minister stepped forward in his spot on the patio, practically rubbing his hands together with glee. “I think there can be no mistaking who our champion is today! A profound example of sentry power—spellbinding!” he enthused. “The winner of the trial is none other than Prince—”

  “Hold on!” A cry came from the balcony, and Queen Trina Seraq leant over the baluster. “I think, esteemed minister, that you are being too hasty. Surely it is only luck which enabled Tejus to create the butterfly. His plant somehow managed to obtain a cocoon during the stem growing process, but this was not because of his skill at all—sheer luck!”

  The minister looked openly enraged. “Any of the stems could have been blessed with a cocoon in their infancy, your highness, but few would have been able to accomplish what Tejus did, growing two things at once —it was skill that transformed the butterfly, not luck!”

  “I believe that Ashbik could have done the same given the opportunity—his flower is equally as beautiful as Tejus’s,” the queen countered.

  “Queen Trina, what is the meaning of this?” the minister shouted up to her, letting his professional grace slide. “Clearly Tejus is the champion!”

  Without waiting for a reply, the minister beckoned two of the watchers over. Each of them whispered in his ear, and they conversed in hushed tones while Queen Trina paced up and down the balcony, her face like thunder.

  I took Ash’s hand again, and he clasped mine tightly.

  Eventually the minister smiled, and my heart sank. We had lost.

  “It is agreed,” he announced, “this winner of this trial is Prince Tejus! Truly a magnificent performance.” The minister bowed in Tejus’s direction and I rolled my eyes. Why not just stick a Head Boy badge on him and be done with it?

  The crowd clapped politely, their initial enamoredness at Tejus’s feat dulled as they all realized that Ash would be second place, winning only ten points. He was still in the lead, but Tejus wasn’t far behind.

  It was luck!

  I couldn’t help siding with Queen Trina on this. I felt that Ash had been robbed of winning by circumstance and coincidence. It should have at least been another tie.

  “I’m sorry, Ash,” I muttered.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s the last win he’s goin
g to get… I promise you that.” As Ash spoke, his eyes glinted with determination and resolve. I recalled his truth from the cave. I am ruthless. I will stop at nothing to achieve my goals.

  I shuddered despite the warmth of the sun.

  Hazel

  The minister held up his hands for silence after he’d confirmed that Tejus was the winner. I was so excited that we’d won that I could barely concentrate on what he was saying, but as the rest of the champions gradually fell silent, I caught the end of yet another speech.

  “… and so, as we reach the halfway mark of the trials, a Champions’ Feast will take place in the Hellswan castle, with Prince Tejus as our host. And all those taking part in the trials are expected to be in attendance, humans included.”

  I groaned inwardly. Another meal of dull food and whispering sentries. At least this time we’d all be there, and Jenus thankfully wouldn’t be in attendance; it wouldn’t be too bad if Ruby and I could sit together and ignore the stares.

  The champions rose from their positions on the floor, and I could see Nikolay approaching with an open smile on his face. I’d seen that his stem had grown, but not flowered, and so he’d been awarded only ten points. There was one sentry still sitting on the ground, staring at the soil of his patch, where not so much as a weed had grown.

  “Congratulations,” Nikolay said, “that was impressive. Your mind must be something else… I hope Tejus realizes how precious you are.”

  The last line was said in a low voice, and his gaze met mine.

  “Well, he’s certainly happy now,” I murmured, looking around for Tejus’ looming figure. I couldn’t see him—which was odd. He never left my side when we were in public.

  “They usually have dancing at these feasts,” Nikolay continued. “Could I request a dance now, for later?”

  “Uh.” I suddenly felt anxious that Tejus wasn’t around and wanted to find him. I smiled distractedly at Nikolay. “I guess…”

  “That’s of course if Tejus won’t mind.” He looked doubtful for a moment.