Entering the next station, healed and recuperated, I was paired with a master thief. I concentrated briefly to see who she was and discovered that she was in her “incognito” mode, which meant I would not know her name or guild if she did not share it with me. Only in direct combat could that information be discovered…usually. There were aspects of the game that seemed to evolve as it progressed, almost as if the developers would make a small change and then reverse it later.

  She did not speak or offer to clasp hands, but instead, once we made eye contact, turned and led me over a large kiosk that reminded me of a giant carnival game.

  The others were picked up by their assigned masters, and in a matter of a couple of minutes, we were all lined up next to each other along a flat booth with a dozen clubs also lined up before us.

  The kiosk or booth was wide enough that we all had plenty of space on either side, and was around twenty feet deep. Along the back wall were a series of large holes that seemed to line up with each one of us, as well as dozens of smaller holes that seemed random.

  A different master climbed up onto the booth and walked to the center. He was a hlafling, so standing on the floor of the booth put him at just about eye level for most of us.

  His name was Barney Lightfoot, and he was a burglar. I recognized the Lightfoot family name. It meant he came from one of the more prestigious of the barony families.

  “When the trumpet blares, you will each pick up the club in front of you. It will glow the color of your robes, as will the space around the large hole opposite to you and behind me.” He poked behind him with his thumb to indicate the direction in case we had not caught on to what he meant.

  “A series of variable skittershots will emerge from the smaller holes along the wall, targeted to hit you. If they do, it will hurt. Your goal is to deflect them with your club.” Here he paused and leaned down. “And only use your clubs. No sneaky spells or skills. Just hit them, or get hit.”

  He stood back up tall. Well, maybe tall was an exaggeration; however, he did stand straight.

  I grinned at my thoughts.

  He saw my look and asked us, “Are you following me so far, or do I need to draw you a picture?”

  “Yes, master.” Many of us said, automatically. Years of conditioning are hard to break.

  “Good. Now, you get two points for every skittershot you make into your own hole, and if you make it into an opponent’s hole, you get one point, and they lose one point. Follow?”

  “Yes, master.”

  If he had experience as a carnival carny, I don’t think his game would be too popular. He was pretty intense.

  But this skittershot game looked interesting.

  “Any questions?”

  The trumpet blared.

  And whether we had questions or not, the halfling bolted toward us, leaped, did a somersault in the air, and landed behind us.

  We all watched in surprise and amazement at his feat.

  Until the first skittershot balls flew out and hit us alternately in the back of our heads or shoulders.

  Master Lilghtfoot burst out laughing, as did the other warrior and thief masters with him, who were serving as our guides.

  “Every time.” The halfling chuckled to himself.

  “That’s a point off for each of you!” He yelled as we turned to grab the small bats. “If you get hit, you also lose one point. I thought I’d better share that.”

  He chuckled again.

  It was sheer madness for the first five or ten seconds, and more skittershots flew out at us. And when he said they would be random, he wasn’t kidding. I expected them to come at me from the holes in front of me and around my yellow glowing target, but no, they came from any of the holes in the back near others’ glowing targets.

  But we soon got into a rhythm, and despite the occasional yelp of pain as one of us missed the skittershot and got hit, or did not manage to dodge it in time, the game was a lot of fun.

  I think most of us tried to hit them back into our targets since it earned the most points. However, Bido accidentally deflected one that had flown into my target, and he earned a point, while I lost one.

  “Sorry!” He called out with a laugh.

  First chance I got, I sent one into his target, calling out, “Symmetry, my thaumaturgist friend!” And that was all it took. We all sent shots at whichever target seemed the easiest. Some skittershots were bigger than others, and some were faster.

  Five minutes passed in no time, and there were quite a few moans when the task ended.

  Which was a first for us. While some tasks had been less painful than others, this was the first one that was actually fun.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Okay, it was also painful if you didn’t pay attention. But still, it was a blast.

  To everyone’s surprise, the thin glasses-wearing, mousey-looking sage got the most points.

  “Congrats, Jakar!” I called down to him. Others followed suit. He was good-natured, and everyone seemed to like him. He had not made much of a showing since the puzzles and riddles portion. For whatever reason, he nailed this task with twice the points as his nearest opponent. I got fourth, which I felt was respectable since Connor and a couple of the other mages seemed especially to target me during the game. At least, that's how it looked ot me.

  “Follow me, champion.” My master guide said as she led me to the next task, which appeared to be another joint effort.

  We stood before a round track with an internal wall that obstructed the opposite side of the track and whatever was inside the center of the track.

  The same halfling joined us and walked out onto the track. “Champions, each of you pick a location to start.”

  When we did not move as quickly as he wanted, he called out, “Hurry, apprentices! I’ll give the directions whether you are ready or not!

  We hurried.

  There were lanes outlined in chalk all around this side of the track, but none as I looked behind us, in the other direction.

  “The task is simple. You will run down your lane and stay in your lane until you get to the halfway point where the lanes disappear. Then you may run anywhere you like on the track from that point forward. When the trumpet sounds, you begin running. When it sounds again, you stop running. The champion with the most laps earns the most points, and down to the last place, who earns no points. Any questions?”

  As usual, Connor was the one to ask, “What’s the trap, Master Lightfoot?”

  He rocked back and forth on his heels. “Well, since you asked so nicely…stunning lights will shoot out at random across the track. You are to avoid as many as you can. Each stun will hurt and slow you down. If you get hit enough times, you will actually get stunned and likely collapse to the track.”

  He looked around. “Any other questions?”

  His tone of voice suggested there shouldn’t be any.

  And there wasn’t.

  He walked off the track. As he departed, we knelt to get a good starting position.

  We didn’t have long to wait. The trumpeter blared, and we were off.

  I was in the third lane from the inside. Connor got the inside lane, Bido got the second, and I managed to get the third.

  We must have all been thinking that the inside lane was the shortest distance and therefore had fewer laps with less effort. It was also why we had a staggered start. We were further back than the others who chose the middle and outside tracks. Jakar, for instance, chose the outermost lane and was therefore the furthest ahead of us.

  I was not alone in being a good runner. Bido and Connor were good as well. But Cecil, the white robed wizard and arguably the most dangerous of us, was a sprinter. That man could move. He was in the innermost lane, perhaps choosing to be as neutral as possible, which had been his approach to these tasks. He always performed well, but didn’t seem to have the same anxiety or need to win as the rest of us.

  I don't want it to sound like any of us were cutthroat.

  Well, Connor came pretty close.

  But all things considered, we got along better with each other as a group than our masters did with each other. I wondered what it was about the guilds that made mages dislike each other so much. Or maybe it was better to ask, what was it about this group of champions that didn’t feel the need to boast.

  But hey, we all still wanted to win.

  I should have sensed something as we rounded the curve. I got a prickly sense on the back of my neck and just managed to duck in time to avoid a red beam of light that shot out from some hidden location on the inner track wall.

  And then there were dozens of beams.

  They crisscrossed, shot high, shot low, and we were all slowing down except for Cecil, who sped up and ran to the outside track, outpacing Jaka,r who moved closer inside. Cecil was significantly increasing his running distance by moving that way.

  A few ran closer to the wall, hoping to avoid beams. It worked for a bit, but then when the beams did come, they just hit them, and they never saw them in time to dodge.

  Based on the shouts, it didn't just hurt; it must have hurt a lot.

  I’d been lucky and avoided them so far.

  When the light shot out, it stayed as if a lamp turned on, counted to three, and turned off. This meant you could avoid them by jumping or ducking if you saw them in time.

  I ran faster or slower based on the position of the beams, but Cecil was pulling ahead.

  What did he see that we didn’t?

  I saw him duck under a beam, so it was not like he didn’t have any.

  I ran further, Bido close to my side.

  We both got sensations that the other was in danger, and that helped us avoid most of the beams, but as the sensation came and went so often, it began to just blur the special effect the bond gave us. Still, we ran near each other.

  “Let’s pick up the pace,” I said to him. “Have you figured out why Cecil is on the outside lane?”

  We ran for another ten seconds, and Bido said, “Follow me!” And he darted at an angle to the outside lane.

  I followed.

  When we reached the lane, but were still further behind, I asked, “What’s up?’

  “Two things. There are far fewer beams out here because they would fly out into the station, so the angles are less, and there are fewer of them. And you have more time to react.” His second explanation was shorter as his breathing got more labored.

  Brilliant.

  We never did catch up to Cecil, but by the trumpet blast, everyone had moved to the outer track. Cecil got first, Bido second, and I was third. Connor ended up in fifth when the alchemist pushed past him seconds before the trumpet blast. Connor’s gray robes were flying, but the indigo of the alchemist just made it past him.

  We made our way off the track and over to the halfling master.

  “Last task and no time to rest. Line up in your original spots again.”

  There were a few moans.

  “Move it, apprentices!”

  We ran back to our original spots.

  “Turn toward the inside wall.”

  We did.

  “When the trumpet blares, magical arrows will fly out. Don’t get hit. They will hurt.”

  You may use spells or skills to help you avoid them, but no walls or spells other than those that avoid the arrows.” He listed off options. “You can dodge, you can avoid, you can deflect, you can direct, you can duck, and you can get shot, but no skills or spells that block the way or in any way try to trick the task. We are testing your agility, not your spell prowess. Save that for the free-for-all. Any questions?”

  “No, master!”

  The trumpet blared.

  And true to his word, magical arrows did fly out at us. They started slow, but picked up speed. They were not real arrows. No wood with sharp metal tips. They were energy beams like the ones we faced earlier, but with a split-second duration rather than the three seconds or so we experienced when running.

  I’d like to say that I avoided all of them.

  I didn’t.

  I have rings on that I could have used, such as Lesser Avoid, Lesser Ignore Damage, and a Dodge in my pocket.

  The other rings in my pocket were too far away. And I wanted all these skills for the free-for-all when the stakes were a lot higher.

  I avoided all the early ones, most of what I’ll call the second batch. Many of the third batch. And one of the final batch.

  They hurt.

  A lot.

  If we moaned in sadness when the trumpet blared with the skittershot game, the moans now from nearly all of us were in relief at the end of this task.

  “On to your last station, champions! Hurry now!” The halfling master yelled.

  We all started off at a trot, rubbing sore muscles all over our bodies.

  And then I remembered…The endurance task was often rated the worst by champions.

  That’s where we were headed next…