As I entered this next station, I was paired with an evangelical minister. I know how that sounds, but the Holy Orders of priests are made up of three branches: clerics (like my friends Steven and Thomas), evangelicals, and inquisitors.

  Clerics are like combat priests with strong melee and spell casting. When you think about adventurers and healers in groups combating evil and looting dungeons, it's probably a cleric.

  Inquisitors are militant priests. They usually work in groups of four and are dedicated to stomping out corruption. And they see it everywhere.

  And that is probably a fair observation. They are a little bit scary in my opinion, and definitely intense. They are strong in combat but weaker in spell casting. Inquisitors have the advantage of numbers, and despite both being in the holy orders, clerics and inquisitors don’t get along really well.

  The third branch is made up of evangelicals. They are soft-hearted, soft-spoken, and rarely engage in any form of combat. They are ministers of the faith and healers. While I would not say that pacifism was a requirement to be an evangelical, it is a common thread.

  While I am not as strong in faith as my father, who almost joined the evangelical order but instead went to university, met my mother, and I came along, I have never met an evangelical whom I didn't like.

  “Good morning, champion of enchantment. I am Reverend Dorsal, like a dolphin’s fin,” the minister said as he came up, smiled, and shook my hand. “Congratulations on all your hard work. You must be happy that the event is nearing conclusion.”

  “It has been pretty overwhelming at times. I’m still a little sore, in fact.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, we’ve seen some injuries coming from the strength station. You are definitely being put to the test.”

  We walked over to a cluster of worn-down chalk circles that looked like they had been stomped on for hours. The circles were around ten feet in diameter and made a path. In the middle of the path was a single drum and drumstick.

  “Your first task will be to pick up the drum and stick, and place yourself upon the path. You can do that now.”

  I did as he instructed. I held the drum in my left hand, and the stick in my right. I discovered that the drum had a small leather strap that my hand fit into snugly. The drum itself looked fairly primitive, with some kind of tanned animal hide covering its round surface, and held down by dozens of leather strips which also wound around its top almost like a lid.

  “At the trumpet, you will begin to walk the circle. You are expected to beat the drum for every heartbeat you feel. I suggest you relax and focus inward now so you can get a good start. You may not begin before the trumpet, but you may start anytime after the trumpet blares. You may not stop once you begin, so be sure you are aligned with your heartbeat. I shall count your circuits. You will feel an urge to move faster as time progresses. Go with it, but be sure to beat the drum for every heartbeat.”

  The directions were clear, and I had a feeling when I picked up the drum and saw the circle that something like this would be the case.

  “How will I know when to end?” I asked.

  “Either at the trumpet’s subsequent sounding, or if you fall down. It is not unusual for a sense of dizziness to occur during the task. Just do your best and stay in rhythm.”

  I began to relax my mind and my body.

  My muscles were sore all over, and those sensations warred with my efforts to relax.

  My mind wandered, and I was thankful the minister was not clearing his throat every eleven seconds.

  Why am I still on about that? Let it go, man. I told myself.

  I began to regulate my breathing, and focusing on my heartbeat. It’s not something that most people bother to do. We pretty much ignire it unless its racing fast, and then we probably have other priorities at hand.

  But both my martial arts training at the monastery and my own magical training made this process relatively easy. I never spent much time just listening and feeling my heartbeat, but the mental and physical state necessary was easily achieved.

  Once I settled in, my enhanced senses kicked in, and I felt myself “lock in.” I was ready when the trumpet eventually blared. I timed the first drum beat with my heart, and I began to walk around the circle, slowly.

  Without realizing it, the drumbeat, heartbeat, and the beat of my foot upon the ground aligned. My steps were slow to start with, but I felt myself stomping my foot more than stepping.

  My eyes were barely open, just enough so I could see where to place my foot along the powdered chalk path.

  Over time, I felt an urge to move more quickly, and while I did not let it go freely, I did go with it. I kept control of the direction, but restrained the tempo, if that made sense. I’m not sure how to explain it, but I knew that if I did not control the beat, it would control me.

  Emotions began to surge within me, and that made holding my beat much harder.

  As I mentally bore down to gently control my heartbeat, I felt like I was holding a rope that began slipping through my hands. I did not want to let it go recklessly, but neither could I stop it.

  My hands with the drum and stick began getting pulled left and right, up and down. My elementalist friend Addie came from a fishing family, and this had the feel of a whopper on the other end of the line.

  Using my mind, I directed the flow toward the center of the circle I was walking. That immediately settled my thrashing hands, but I began to get pulled closer to the circle’s center.

  The minister had said to walk the chalk path, so I pulled back on the urge to leave the path.

  I walked and I struck the drum, faster and faster.

  My head began to feel light, and my vision blurred.

  I struggled to maintain the beats.

  Faster, and faster I stomped and beat the drum. My breath came in gasps, and I was losing control.

  Finally, overcome with vertigo and nausea, I collapsed.

  I came around nearly immediately once the effects of whatever spell had worn off on me. I was staring into the smiling face of the minister.

  “That was really well done, lad! Only two have gone longer: a monk who actually completed all five minutes, and a stubborn barbarian who stayed out longer than you did after he finally fell. You should be very proud. You are well aligned with vitality and life.”

  I was still a bit groggy, but appreciated the kindness in his words even if I did not exactly understand them.

  The spell effects completely wore off after I stood and placed the drum and stick back in the center of the circle.

  He pointed over to an area of the station that began to fill with wisps of smoke or vapor. “You don't have a lot of time left before the trumpet. Join the others so you are not disadvantaged by your success here.”

  I moved quickly to join the others.

  As I walked across the Arena ground, I felt reinvigorated. I was no longer sore or tired. Whatever happened, it actually seemed to heal me rather than weaken me.

  I stopped next to Bido and Connor, who happened to be near each other.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Nice job, Gwyd.” Bido said.

  “Did you start with the trumpet?” Connor asked.

  “Yeah, it was a rough go. But I feel really good now.”

  Connor nodded, but looked away and toward the master before us.

  Bido gave me a fist bump, and we also looked at the master. He was younger than most of the masters we had been seeing at the stations. He wore green and brown clothes, like a woodsman, but there was a serenity on his face that somehow reminded me of my mother–although his pale skin and scruffy beard were nothing like her taller, darker complexion.

  It was more of a feeling than an appearance that led me to those thoughts.

  “Champions, this task is known as the Withering Walk. The vapors come from another realm and are necrotic in nature. It will drain your vitality, and so you will want to remain in the field of mists for as little time as is necessary for you to achieve the task.”

  The trumpet blared.

  “What is the task, master?” Connor asked. We were all wondering the same thing.

  The master stepped over to a nearby crate and opened its lid. “Come, each of you take an orb.”

  We did, and as soon as we touched it, it brightened and grew warm and comfortable in our hands.

  “These orbs represent your vitality. They are similar in construct, if not in purpose, to your totems. You will all enter the mist at the same time and walk across to the other side.”

  “Straight across?” Connor clarified, becoming emboldened by the master’s lack of hostility toward questions.

  “If you like. Once you enter the mist, you must find your own way out. Should your light go out, well,” he paused, “let’s just say that if it diminishes to the point it is extinguished, your task will end. Abruptly.”

  We all let that sink in. The intensity with which he stated that rather final ending did not sound good now that we knew the globes were linked with our own vitality. If the mists drained us, did that mean we died?

  These tasks were generally safe, but accidents had been known to happen. And if I recall, it was usually around either this vitality station or the free-for-all where tragedies struck according to the stories by older apprentices.

  “Champions, line up at the edge. I shall count down from three to zero. That is when you take a step onto the Withering Walk.”

  Connor and I looked at each other when the master mentioned a countdown from three. We each grinned a bit nervously.

  “3. 2. 1. 0…”

  I stepped into the mist.

  The sensation of entering the mist was like plunging into a pool of cold water. Except I didn't get wet.

  There was no dampness to the mist, but it felt cold. The heat in my body seemed to seep out through my pores and I noticed that the orb I held dimmed slightly.

  Okay, the timer had started. I needed to get out of here before the orb blinked out…and so did I.

  I remained in place while I looked around.

  The space reminded me of pictures of jungles, with lush plant life, full of color, except no heat and no humidity. My breath fogged each time I breathed out.

  Glancing behind me, I saw that there was no edge to the mist. I was in the middle of…well, wherever I was.

  Sit. Rest. Relax.

  The words formed in my mind, and whatever cold sensation I had felt upon entering just doubled as the eerie words sent shivers up and down my spine.

  There was an intelligence here. An intelligence that fed directly on vitality.

  “Not good.” I breathed out, fog from my own lungs billowing around my head.

  I almost said, ‘not cool,’ but it was so cold that I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

  Think, Gwydion.

  It wanted me to stay, so I needed to move. But in what direction?

  All directions looked equal, so there was no obvious choice.

  A shiver went through me as my orb dimmed some more.

  Okay, there's no obvious direction except to stay put.

  Another shiver went through my enhanced senses, and the orb dimmed again.

  That was much faster than the previous attack.

  My mind went into overdrive.

  I needed to walk across the field. Straight across?

  Yes. No. Wait, what did Connor ask?

  He asked if we should go straight across, and the master replied, “If you like. Once you enter the mist, you must find your own way out.”

  That seemed to suggest that the choice of direction was up to us. To our own will and choice.

  Could it be as easy as that?

  I willed myself to leave and took a step forward.

  The next attack came, and it was strong. The orb was at half the brightness as when I first held it.

  But I did feel like I moved.

  Willpower was not enough.

  This was a test of my vitality. My life.

  I felt another pull and more vitality left me, making the orb even dimmer. I was getting angry. Some creature was feeding off me, and I was just standing here.

  And so, I’d just about had enough of that. As another pull started, I felt myself reach out and grab hold of whatever the stuff was here, and I pulled its vitality into me.

  The reaction was instantaneous. It felt a physical shove from a giant, pillowy hand. I was thrown out onto the Arena floor.

  Forcibly.

  I flew perhaps ten feet through the air and crashed into Connor, who had just started to stand up from his own expulsion from the Withering Walk.

  We both went down.

  I untangled myself and we both stood, quickly moving to the side.

  “That sucked,” Connor said, gasping for breath as if he had been running for his life. Which, as I thought about it, he quite literally had been.

  I was not winded, but I was cold.

  Bido was already sanding by the side and he had a blanket around him that someone had provided. WHen offered, I took one as well. So did Connor.

  One by one, the others emerged.

  Everyone escaped. Some staggered out, most were thrown out like me and Connor.

  The trumpet sounded, and a thin gray-robed master with red hems, to Connor’s orange, approached us. She was an elf. That was a rarity in the city.

  Her voice was accented, but clear. “Champions, please choose a summoning circle quickly and compose your minds.” She pointed to a third section of the station where a dozen smaller circles were positioned in orbit around a larger, empty central circle.

  We moved swiftly and seated ourselves.

  I was familiar with summoning circles, having used them to travel with my master from time to time. This one was different, however, in several respects.

  First, it was smaller, just big enough for me to step into and sit down, cross-legged. I was careful to make sure my robes did not smudge or cross the chalk outlines.

  And that would be the second difference. Instead of stone, metal, and gemmed inlays of a complex summoner circle such as were used for travel, we each sat in a chalk circle spread over the dirt Arena floor.

  The third difference was that this construct was clearly made with the center as its focus. It was also a circle, but there were symbols or glyphs spread around. I could not see all of them, but the two I could see were runes for life and growth.

  “Champions, you are each tasked to send blood magic, life energy, your vitality from you and into the seed located at the center of the large circle before you.”

  I looked, and indeed there was a seed. I had just assumed it was a stone, but seeing how smooth the circle was, the only blemish to its surface was the seed which looked a bit like a soggy, walnut now thast I examined it. My enhanced sight picked out details, suggesting it was not a seed from any tree located in the Shallowlands. Or if it was, it was from far away from here.

  “You will struggle at first, but as you focus your will and direct your life and energy into the seed, you will notice a change. Be mindful of your own vitality. Give too much and you shall be weakened. Give not enough, and it shall not change.”

  While I did not do this often, I looked at my vitality and health. My vitality remained at 25 but my health which should have been at 33, was at 16.

  Yikes. That mist did a number on me.

  Looking around, I saw many of the mages close their eyes and begin to concentrate.

  I did the same. I pictured the seed in my mind. I had a good idea of what it looked like since my enhanced sight let me see it up close as if I were holding it in my hand.

  Super bird vision. I thought with a grin.

  More like ‘bird brain’ if I didn’t get focused.

  As my mind relaxed, it was drawn back to my experience on the shepherd’s hill when I sang to the hooked staff and mended it.

  Without considering the consequences of using unsanctioned magic, I began to hum a Wood Song, activating a casting point and allowing energy to flow out of me and into the seedling.

  This time it felt different, because along with a magical spell point, I also felt my health flow into the plant. It was slow, but steady.

  Only one casting point was used, but by the time the trumpet blared, I had used ten health points, leaving me far weaker than I had been when entering this station.

  I opened my eyes, surprised to see a giant sunflower waving back and forth slowly before my face. It was still constrained within its circle, but it had come right up to the edge and hovered before me.

  “Flower power,” Connor mumbled as he walked by me.

  Bido came to stand next to me. “I had my eyes open the whole time. It grew, moved around the circle near each of us, and then it just stayed in front of you and kept growing.”

  “How did you accomplish this, champion?” The elf asked from behind me.

  She startled me, and I jumped.

  Turing around and bowing, I answered, “Sorry, master. I just sang to it. Did I do something wrong?”

  She looked at me and then at the giant flower. “No, champion, you did nothing wrong. You did something…unexpected. My directions specified energy and vitality. You did both. The Sunsoak flower consumes vitality. In its own realm, it is a formidable predator. It is safe here, however,” she replied, seeing both Bido and my reaction as we turned back to it.

  “Where did you learn to sing?”

  Bido looked confused, but I knew what she was asking.

  “From my mother, master.”

  She stared at me for a moment, and then I could see understanding in her eyes. “You both must receive healing before you move on to the next station, and you will also receive your totems. Do not wear them until the final event. Keep it safe, it is your lifeline.”

  And like most of the masters, after they said what they intended, she turned and walked away.

  Bido looked at me questioningly. “I’ll explain later. Let’s get healed.”

  We both moved off to a tent that had been erected for triage in case the free-for-all or any of these guild events got out of hand.