The Protection of Ren Crown (43 page)

The mages on his team gathered multiple wins under their belts, and took second or third to teammates in others.

The field was littered with heats for the hundred different events, many taking place simultaneously across competitions like some huge, blood-spattered track meet.

Neph was called to assist the medical teams a few times, and it was interesting to watch the teams dart in and out, fixing and reviving people.

One of the strangest moments in the competition was when Dare's sixteen-year-old cousin Nicholas won “Extreme Distance Targets,” picking off a target three miles away with a pair of thick wraparound glasses and a simple tap to his neck to activate an ocular beam. With the weather enchantments and environmental conditions in play, the competitor who'd won second place had hit the 2.9 mile target in his third attempt, but hadn't come close in any of his three mile attempts. Nicholas Dare had hit the three mile target on his first attempt.

With no other competitors left, his distance limit was left to the imagination.

The flurry of unsettled whispers in the crowd concerning it seemed strange, and the whispers grew when he won “Obstacle Distance”—which involved a non-linear path to the targets, forcing each mage to wrap, bend, and swirl the magic around whatever was in its path first.

The first device competition began in another part of the field and with Will catching me up in his babbling excitement, I forgot to ask about the strange crowd response to the distance events.

The device magic competitions were awesome, but brought back uncomfortable memories of our fight in the First Layer. Constantine would be able to hold his own in this, if he cared. If he was attending the competition at all, though, I hadn't seen him. I wondered what sorts of horrible things Will and Constantine could construct together.

Like our first leech, which was
so
close to completion.

I rubbed my palm along my neck as another flash of gold taunted me.

~*~

Spectators and food passed in and out of the stands all day, but the crowd steadily swelled again as the last heats and finals of the regular events wrapped. The last event would take place alone on the field. There were no qualifications and no heats involved in Freespar.

By the time Freespar arrived, day had darkened to night. I was buzzed on the surreal mayhem and exhausted from watching the all-day competition. The combat mages were
good
. And watching them compete against each other was more incredible than the very best movie battle scenes.

The announcer appeared on the field. “And now for...Freeeeeespaaaaaaaaar!”

The crowd roared. Fighters on the sidelines dropped towels and lifted weapons, then strode out to assemble. They shifted and moved into their desired starting positions—which was any position they desired as long as they weren't touching anyone else. Unlike the other competitions, there were no rules besides that one. I leaned forward, even though it was unnecessary to do so.

“They all just stand there, then when the bell rings, they start fighting?” I asked.

“Yup. High bets have been placed for your boy going down in the initial charge.”

I looked back at Mike, mystified.

“You can
plan
the initial charge,” he said. “It's the only time where anything other than moment-to-moment battle planning can be affected. What happens after the initial charge is out of direct control.” He pointed to the field where Dare stood, absolutely still. Most of the bodies on the field were angled toward him, their body positions telltale to the direction they planned to run or cast. They were giving away any advantage for their first strike, but in a field of hundreds, maybe that wasn't the worry.

Five mages decided to get within arm’s reach of him for the start. All five angled toward him. Dare didn't move, his gaze focused on a spot a few feet in front of him.

Even if he got two of those five mages, he was going to be gutted three times before he could turn. My stomach clenched at the thought. Madness.

The starting bell suddenly rang, a long shrill sound that made me jump—it was too early, I wasn't ready to see this—but everyone was already moving, and half
of the mages on the field charged Dare's position.

In the time that it took for the bell to stop ringing and my gaze to catalog the surge of the field, the five mages surrounding Dare were crumpled on the ground and Dare
still
looked as if he hadn't moved a muscle.

He stood there, staring almost sightlessly for a full, agonizing second as the rest of the field charged. I gripped my arms tightly across my chest, feeling utter panic.
Madness
.

Then crystal magic whirled like a prismatic Matador's cape at a hundred charging bulls, and he flung the magic up and down around him as he twisted. A good portion of the charging mages went down, but a dozen of them ducked or flipped as the magic approached their position. Those mages kept coming, and some of them were throwing explosives and thrusting swords forward.

I had seen this before, in Will's hologram before coming to campus. I would bet a thousand munits that Will's hologram had been a replay of last year’s battle qualifier.

“Using a similar opening tactic as last year and he's still going to win.” Mike's voice was stunned.

“You never show your best in qualifiers,” Delia said, bloodthirsty delight in her voice as she started yelling praise and curses at several combatants.

I never took my eyes away from Dare. He seemed to know where each opponent and attack were coming from before they came within five feet, and any magic that wasn't deflected, was caught, converted, and used as his own.

It was true, he wasn't using some of the craziest moves I had seen him perform, and he held
no
weapon at the moment, but even so, my jaw was still residing somewhere along the floor of the stands.

After our first fight in the battle rooms, he had continued connecting to me whenever I was in there. But, wow, I could now see his toying with me in the rooms for what it was.

The field thinned extremely fast, the carnage of an all-out melee far too severe for long and complex individual battles. When Mike had said it would be over in ten minutes, he hadn't been joking. Bodies piled up into a circle with Dare at the center, which impeded all but aerial attacks until the medical mages on the sidelines magically pulled the bodies away.

As the body count rose, smaller groups worked together to attack him. There were also multiple sneak attacks by competent combat mages fighting in the midst of the charges. But soon enough, it came down to three of his personal force along with only a handful of others. All of the remaining mages, including Dare, had significant injuries—arms that wouldn't lift, legs that were broken, bone alignments that simply weren't right. Dare had summoned his staff, finally, and Ramirez fought one-handed alongside him. They took out Lox together. The back of Dare's staff snapped in the air behind him and Camille went down as well.

Dare's gaze was steady and focused as the remaining combatants chose their moves. An uproar shook the stands when only two competitors remained.

Dare twisted to face Ramirez. His fingers curled lightly around the staff. Their battle cloaks had lost much of their finery—the buckles and other ornamental devices already having been used for attack, defense, healing, or whatever effects they had been designed to accomplish.

Ramirez and Dare circled each other, the last ones standing. The faintest hint of an upward curl was evident on the edges of their bloody lips. Each time they had fought in the individual competitions their actions had shown that they knew each other personally and tactically very, very well.

The stands rippled with excitement, bodies pressing forward, people yelling and cheering. Gold rippled in my view, severely enough this time that my gaze moved away from the engrossing spectacle to search out the source of the glimmer.

Gold wasn’t a good portent for me.

A huge roar sounded, then people were jumping wildly and magic was hurtling everywhere in the stands. I hurriedly looked back to the field. Ramirez was on the ground and Dare's staff was pressed to his chest.

Ramirez grinned as Dare helped him stand. The crowd roared as Dare was announced the winner of Freespar, and with his combined points, he was also the overall winner of the competition.

I craned my head back to the crowd, trying to trace any spark of gold as people moved in front of and around me, exiting the stands, chattering and exchanging money.

Hands pulled me around and Delia bounced into view. “Party in Dorm Twelve! Alumni included!”

I blinked away the gilded unease that had enveloped me and focused on her words. The last time I had been to a party in Dorm Twelve, I had accidentally thrown my drink all over the person who had just won the competition. Not a great memory.

“Um, I don't think—”

“Mandatory. Let's go.” Delia pushed me sideways through the stands.

I appealed to Neph, but she shook her head with a smile. “It's a good idea.”

Will nodded. “Yes, I must speak with Elias Greene about that last device he used.
Brilliant
.”

Mike was already ahead of us on a direct route to Dorm Twelve—no help there. I looked to Olivia, but she was looking into the crowd with an odd expression on her face. “One hour won't hurt,” she said gently.

My shoulders drooped and Delia cackled, pushing me into the crowd.

~*~

The surge of people moving toward Dorm Twelve made it hard to feel conspicuous, yet there were people near the entrance closely watching the crowd. One of these days, I was going to reach my “watched” limit and my magic was going to blow.

Once we got past the bottleneck, though, the mass of humanity inside swallowed us whole.

Dorm Twelve was more of a frat house than a dorm. It consisted of an immense gathering room two stories high, with balconies and halls to the personal rooms shooting up and off to each side. Unlike last time, there was no furniture in the room except for a tiered table in the center.

A large glass bowl full of Ambrosia stood on the table. Little glass cupids shot rosy liquid into the center, automatically refilling the container as each cup was magically served. I was handed a full glass, but I discreetly tipped half of the contents into a trash chute on my way past. Half a glass would make it look like I was drinking without actually having to. I still hadn't recovered from the last time I'd tried Ambrosia.

Olivia didn't even bother to grab a glass. In the press of the crowd, our group was quickly split in multiple directions. It seemed as if everyone on campus had come to celebrate. Last time, the party had been large, but this, this was
huge
.

Olivia and I stayed together in the surge, but got mired in a section of cramped humanity discussing the social commentary and politics of the brutal competition. I nodded where necessary to support Olivia and otherwise zoned out, glass in hand, trying not to draw attention to myself while running project schematics through my head. Mike was working on a magical weather vane, and from the number of mealtime complaints about it, the project was giving him grief. It had been a long time since I had done something for Mike, so I set my mind running with a few ideas that might help with his project.

Olivia's voice grew increasingly contemptuous as she argued with a group of people wearing bright orange. I patted her arm absently and agreed with her statement—whatever it was. The orange people responded in outrage.

Maybe the design of the vane was the problem. Maybe a slightly different shape would adequately express the magic the way he desired?

Neph's soothing magic swept through me and I turned to locate her. She and Will were clear on the other side of the room, up on one of the balconies. Will motioned to me with his hand, then toward the staircase in the corner.

I elbowed Olivia and pointed. She gave a decisive nod, sneered at the people in orange, and strode in Neph and Will's direction with purpose, cleaving the crowd as she went. Trying not to spill my cup on anyone, I cursed that I’d taken a glass at all, and tried to move with the shifting crowd in her wake. Soon enough, Olivia was on the other side of the room, while I was clenched in the crowd's armpit.

A group in front of me started juggling flaming knives overhead. I edged nervously around them, watching as they manipulated the air around the steel, keeping the flames level and the movements steady.

I turned to move forward again, but Dare appeared suddenly in front of me. I jumped and my fingers automatically pushed my cup toward him, the arc of liquid sloshing forward. His fingers wrapped around my cup, steadying it, his magic creating an invisible barrier over the top to keep the liquid from leaving. His eyes crinkled at the corners and the edges of his lips lifted.

Devastating.

“You destroyed my track record for painting you pink at parties,” I somehow quipped as his fingers let go, brushing against mine as they released their grip. “And ruined a perfectly good celebratory dousing.”

“I'm going to start getting a complex that you just want me to take off my shirt.”

I stared at him, heart beating abnormally in my chest. “Uh, no, we wouldn't want that to happen.”

Everyone with a
pulse
wanted that to happen.

I cleared my throat. “So, congratulations on kicking the crap out of everyone.”

“Thanks.” He looked amused, studying me with his hands now in his pockets. Unlike the mass of people jamming into my back, personal space surrounded him. Even with people calling out congratulatory remarks left and right, no one infringed in his bubble of territory.

I scanned him from head to toe while trying to hide the color that was undoubtedly accompanying the increasing warmth in my face. “You look surprisingly healthy.” Broken bones and long gashes had been healed, and he looked as fresh and non-bloody as if he'd stepped off the magazine page I always imagined he rested upon when he wasn't in view.

“Medical. The qualifier counts as part of the exam grade for the graduating class, so they put in extra effort to revive us.”