As I entered this third station, I was paired with a huge leather-clad warrior who walked over and grabbed me by the shoulder. I was not the only mage chosen in this way, but it seemed rougher than the others.

  My robes bunched up, and I was nearly walking on my tiptoes.

  One unexpected side effect of the enhanced senses was that pain increased. I was quickly able to block it, but the sense of touch didn’t just work if I reached out and touched something, but also when it reached out and touched me.

  He did not throw me forward, or act in a way that was aggressive…beyond the bruise that had to be forming on my shoulder. He might not even realize his strength.

  Which was significant. Biff was strong. This warrior was a brute.

  We made our way over to a pile of oddly shaped but smooth stones.

  Well, I saw we made our way over, but what really happened was that I sort of followed in his wake, half walking, half skipping along.

  The stones were actually in three piles and came in a range of sizes, but they were all within a single chalk-lined circle, which made me think that they were initially all together. Next to the circle, perhaps three long paces away, was an identical circle that was empty.

  I had an idea where this was going.

  There were around a dozen piles of these stones spread out widely around the area, which was about twice the size of the previous station.

  The stones were piled next to a type of water wheel, similar to those found at a flour mill, but scaled down to be only around six feet tall.

  And the wheel was near a large, rectangular shield that I had seen knights and soldiers use during drills in the arena, or outside the main gates in the fall. It was tall and heavy. It would be awkward to use it as a shield with just one hand, but I knew that was how warriors fought with them.

  “Apprentice,” the warrior began, “when the trumpet blares, you will pick these stones from here and carry them to there.” He emphasized his words by pointing at the ring of piled stones and the ring of empty dirt.

  “Are there any other directions or restrictions, master?” I asked.

  He glared at me. “You will do it with your hands and no magic, mage.”

  I nodded my understanding. “Yes, master.”

  He continued to stare.

  I asked, “And after I do this in less than five minutes, what next?”

  His eyes widened, and for a moment, I saw laughter there. But he grew stern again and said, “You begin at the trumpet.”

  I knew I had a little time because the master of ceremonies would wait until everyone had gotten to their stations, and one group typically had to walk further to go from the end station back to the first one.

  I used that time to gauge the task at hand.

  My lapidary prodigy skill did not reveal every detail about every kind of stone and rock, but I did possess a fair amount of knowledge. It helped that one of my masters was a dwarf.

  I could tell that the stones were likely granite and from a quarry a mile or so northeast of town. It was the only ock quarry of its kind nearby since the others tended to be located around the higher hills or mountains.

  They were all smooth, which would make gripping them harder. This would test both my arm and upper body strength, along with my grip.

  The stones seemed to come in three size ranges: medium, large, and very large. I was probably better aware of these things than most mages, but I was pretty sure I could handle the smallest of the very large rocks as long as I did not have far to go.

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  I figured that weight would play a role in this and that the more stones and weight of stones I could get in the five minutes, the better off I would be.

  The trumpet blared, and I ran, not walked, over to the second smallest of the very large stones. I could tell that this master would not tolerate any whining or slow movements. He would get my all.

  I just hoped I didn't injure myself while trying.

  I grunted as I struggled to find a balanced grip on the stone. But I had an advantage. My touch sense was heightened, and so was my sight. I quickly gauged and found the best locations for my fingers and lifted with my legs.

  I waddled a bit as I carried it over to the the empty ring. But I did not drop it.

  It was so heavy.

  I set it down and made my way back again.

  Based on the size of the rock next to it, I was sure I could carry it and maybe the one beyond it. I struggled for a moment as my senses kicked in, and I lifted.

  Did I mention that these stones were heavy?

  I walked a bit slower than I had on the first trip, and as I made my way back after dropping it off, in a pile next to the previous one, I decided I would not chance the biggest. I could carry twice the load of smaller ones in the same time. Struggling to lift the heaviest was a bad strategy.

  Still, I picked up the smallest of the very large stones and carried it over.

  My arms and legs were burning.

  There were no directions to specify how I would locate them, so I decided to pile as many rocks in a mirror reflection of the first circle as possible. Instead of just dumping them, I would carry them over and place them quickly, but securely, in three distinct piles.

  Coming back from that haul, my mind wondered if number and weight would have an impact. And so, I shifted to the smallest stones next.

  There were no rules specifying that I move them one at a time, so I used the front of my robe as a wheelbarrow and piled a dozen of the smaller ones into it. I staggered to my feet, but I didn’t drop any stones.

  I was not quite as neat in setting the medium-sized stones down. But I did keep track of a count.

  When the trumpet blew, I was on my way back for a third trip with the middle pile of large rocks.

  I was sweating and out of breath. But I walked over, stood before the warrior, and bowed to him.

  “How many stones, apprentice?”

  “Three very large, sixty-two medium rocks, and eight of the large rocks, master.”

  I stared at his chin, not making eye contact with him.

  He grunted and pointed at the mini mill.

  “Climb on top and spin the wheel. Each time the same edge goes by, call it out to me.”

  I scrambled quickly to get on top of the mill. My robe was a bit clumsy, but I pushed it up on my legs so I could pedal more quickly. I looked silly, I was sure, but I could move more freely.

  My feet found the first paddle, which was painted white.

  I strained to get the wheel going. It was stiff and slow to move. But after some serious straining, I was able to get it turning slowly. As I worked, it began to turn more quickly.

  It never moved fast, but I got into a rhythm and began calling out, “Three, master! Five, master! Eleven, master!”

  In five minutes, I managed to turn it sixteen times. I was breathing even harder and sweating even more, but I knew there was a third test yet to come.

  I jumped down at the trumpet blare and ran over to him and bowed.

  He grunted again.

  My back and legs burned. But on a positive note, my arms felt mostly back to normal.

  “Apprentice, you will now push the shield sled you see next to the mill as far as you can in a straight line across the ground. Your goal is to reach the Arena wall.”

  “Yes, master!” I yelled as I ran over to the shield.

  In my mind, I was thinking, yeah, that’s going to happen. But I kept a set face and hit the shield at a run.

  Well, it did move. But so did I. Back on my butt as I bounced off.

  I could hear laughter above me as a group of differently colored robed apprentices watched me.

  I got up and did not dust myself off. I walked to the shield quickly, balanced myself better, and began to push. Using my senses, I could tell that the lower I pushed, the easier it moved.

  Every few moments, I readjusted my grip and position slightly until I maximized, to the best of my ability to determine, the best leverage given my time constraint.

  After a couple of minutes of steady progress, the sled stopped dead. I pushed harder. It did not move. I pushed even harder and lower.

  Nothing.

  There had to be a trick.

  I got up and walked around the sled. I discovered that a rock was stopping its progress. I bent to pick up the rock, but it would not move.

  Action was needed. I was on a timer.

  So, figuring that this was either the right or wrong way to act, and inaction was definitely wrong, I lifted the sled up onto the rock and went back to the front. I pushed and it slid over the rock and moved forward again until it hit the back of the sled, where I repeated the same move.

  The rule was to push the sled, not pull it. So I lifted it so that it was placed on top of the stone. Yes, technically I had to pull slightly, but I was fulfilling the spirit of the task.

  I managed more progress until a second stone stopped me. This time I did not hesitate to repeat the same moves as before.

  When the trumpet sounded, I was less than halfway to the Arena wall, but I had gotten further than any other mage.

  I ran back to the warrior and bowed, trying hard not to sound out of breath.

  “Thank you, master.”

  He grunted, “For what?”

  I tilted my head and smiled. “For the fun, master.”

  He glared at me a moment and then burst out laughing, much as the conjurer had. But he did not cough. He slapped my shoulder, which would certainly leave a bruise, and said, “Adequately done, young champion.”

  And he walked away.

  I did my best not to limp when walking alongside my fellow mages, but we were all exhausted.