Kybas cocked his head toward the dull thud of heavy footsteps above his lair. At first, he hadn’t paid them much attention: he’d heard the odd person passing by earlier, but they hadn’t lingered, they’d just moved on about their business.

But the way this mysterious person was moving around up there—repeatedly pausing, then walking around, but not leaving—had caught his attention. He thought of the jungles back home that the Clan Chulu had claimed: his tribe had dodged and battled predators—both beast and humanoid—since the clan’s birth, so knowing how to listen for a hunter stalking them was as ingrained as the importance of breathing.

“Shh, shh, Harmless,” Kybas said.

Was that Alex?

‘The Grand Battle shouldn’t be over yet, so it can’t be him,’ he thought. ‘So who could it be? Everyone’s watching the big fight.’

He gulped.

He knew he’d been extra careful when he was moving the mushrooms, but could a Watcher of Roal have seen him? Or maybe they were patrolling the area, looking for the demon summoner.

“We’ll be quiet,” he told Harmless. “And let them pass.”

And so he waited…and he waited…

But whoever was up top, didn’t leave. They kept moving quietly, slowly circling around, like they were looking for something. Kybas listened for a long time.

‘Come on…go away…don’t find the tunnels,’ he thought, becoming irritated.

Today was his only chance to get away since The Games would be ending and there’d be more Watchers available to search campus for this demon summoner.

He held his breath.

For a heartbeat, he thought the person above started moving toward the entrance to one of his tunnels. Then—at the last second—they turned and began moving away. Kybas exhaled in relief.

“We’ll wait a bit longer,” he said to Harmless. “Then I’ll go up and see if anything’s still going on. Maybe they’ve gone, then we can make our escape.”

Amir knew something was going on.

Back at the stadium, he could have sworn he was being followed. On the tournament grounds, he’d lost count of the number of Watchers he’d seen patrolling. Searching. Asking questions.

He’d finally slipped away from the stadium after a long time of trying to act casual, not wanting to arouse suspicion or draw attention to himself by hurrying, but even now—in this remote area—he felt like someone was following him. Trying to act natural, he kept his pace as slow and steady as he could, while his eyes searched for any sign of Ursula or Leopold.

They were nowhere in the stadium, and he’d checked everywhere.

They hadn’t been around the grounds.

They weren’t anywhere.

‘This is bad,’ he thought. ‘All the work I’ve done…all the hours I put in trying to make things right. By spirits and deities, we were so close.’

He chewed his lower lip.

A crossroads lay before him: a single point in time where he could avoid disaster. One path lay in finding his friend and calming the situation. Another lay in approaching the first Watcher he came across and confessing everything.

But one word swam through his mind, stopping him from the latter path: ‘Debt’.

A life-debt was a grave one, not so easily owed or dismissed, this was especially true depending on who one owed it too.

‘Think, Amir, think!’ He slapped himself in the temple. ‘You made it into the University of Generasi. You passed every undergraduate year with top marks, then you made it into graduate studies with picky, picky Jules. You’re smart. You can figure this out.’

He checked the position of the sun.

The time was passing quickly.

The Grand Battle would be over soon and when it was, there’d be a period of controlled chaos. A moment when the participants would be preparing for teleportation back to campus and some of the audience would be looking to leave. A moment when the officials would be focused on preparing the medals and prizes, as well as getting ready for the closing ceremonies to end The Games.

That would be the perfect moment to strike.

He swallowed. If he could avoid disaster, then the end of The Games would be a wonderful moment. If he couldn’t…

Shaking that thought away, he quickened his steps.

“I don’t think I can hear them anymore,” Kybas whispered, moving toward one of his tunnels. “Come Harmless, let’s see if the coast is clear.”

They slipped into one of the passages.

“Come on, why won’t you end already, damn you!” Derek swore quietly.

He was so deep in the cave that it felt like he’d never see the sun again: he had no way to tell time or even guess how close it was to the end of The Grand Battle.

And he wanted no more of it. Enough was enough.

It had felt like a hundred armies converged on the grassy plains all at once to act out every ‘end times battle’ ever conjured up by seers and prophets. Fire. Lightning. Ice. Explosions. Shrapnel had been flying everywhere as he’d crawled on his belly—like a lizard—toward the mountain. He’d wanted to creep back to the forests at the perimeter of the island, but the grass fire had spread so quickly—thanks to that horrible golem, those horrible wizards, and that even more horrible giant tortoise—that the only choice he’d been left with was to make for the mountain.

‘The lava-spewing thing just appeared out of bloody nowhere,’ he thought. ‘This school’s a madhouse. The only rational thing to do is run from it and become a bloody farmer!’

He shook his head.

‘Don’t think like that. Just two more years. Two more years, and if I get the right people tutoring me, I’ll have a satisfied family, enough of this horrible magic to at least protect myself from these sorts of mad bastards, and merit in abundance to rise in court. Though…with how slow time’s passing, it feels like I’ll spend those two years in this bloody cave. It seems pretty quiet now, though. Wait…’

“They didn’t forget me, did they?” he whispered. “Maybe they teleported everyone else back to campus and left me here to grow mushro-”

He paused.

There was the scrape of a boot reaching his ears in the stillness, coming from the direction of the exit. He froze in place, straining his ears to listen for who or what it could be.

Derek paled.

‘No…no…no…I can’t be that unlucky.’

As the voices came closer, he realised he was indeed that unlucky. They were voices he knew a little too well. One was definitely Isolde’s prim, proper and snooty voice. And the other belonged to…her lackey, Svenia.

Svenia and Hogarth had never liked him much, but of course, the feeling had been mutual. Life wasn’t about liking or disliking anyway, so it was irrelevant how they’d felt about him.

He silently slid his sword from its sheath and crouched in the dark. If they went on their way, then all would be well.

If they didn’t…

“Better to ambush than be ambushed,” he whispered. “You had the initiative last time, Isolde, ratting me out to the professor. Well, now the initiative lies with me.”

He took a breath as electric blue light approached from the cave opening.

Then he quietly began casting a spell.

“It shouldn’t be long now, Lady von Anmut: I’m sure the contest should be over soon,” Svenia said from up ahead. “And it looks like no one has entered the cave since we were here…though it’s hard to be certain with these dry stone floors. But, so far, there’re no tracks.”

“Indeed,” Isolde said. “If there are no other competitors stalking about like beast-goblins, then we shall be able to await the contest’s end in peace, I would think.”

She sighed.

“It’s a pity. This last while has been nothing but slinking about: the two of us like rats in the dark instead of the heiress to the von Anmut family and the fine woman-at-arms that we are. This is truly without decorum; we did not even have the chance to knock out a few more rivals before the end. Blast it all, the other teams have had plenty of time to reach or exceed our score.”

Roughly twenty feet ahead, one of her electric blue forceballs floated through the air, weaving back and forth along the passage, illuminating the path in case enemies were crouching in the dark, concealed in hidden bends and turns in the cave. It was a forceball trick that Alex had taught her while they trained for The Grand Battle.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, my lady.” Svenia kept her spear pointed forward. “We’ve been hearing less battle sounds since we separated from Theresa and the others which makes me think that many contestants have been knocked out of competition. And no one was able to dislodge that tortoise from the peak: not the team with Shiani, Rhea, Rayne, Malcolm and Eyvinder, or even the Hydras.”

“Well, the Outcasts did drive them off for a bit, which was a shame since those extra points will definitely put them ahead of us.” Isolde said, glancing behind. Another forceball floated at her back—dimmer than the first—providing light around and behind them.

It would be the end of any chance to even place if they were ambushed now.

They were so close to the end. So close.

“I think-”

Isolde froze.

Ahead, a shadow crouched in the dark: her forceball’s light revealed it. She quickly tapped Svenia on the shoulder then pointed ahead, not wasting time voicing a warning.

Those precious moments could be used for casting. She spoke an incantation as Svenia raised her spear.

The shadow leapt out.

Isolde was so shocked by who it was that she nearly fumbled her spell.

Derek raised his hand, finishing a spell while Isolde was still in the middle of hers.

A short cone of flame blasted from his outstretched hand, and both women sprang back, avoiding an abrupt exit from the contest. If they’d been closer when he jumped out, he would have hit them both. But even though his spell had missed, the fire blast and heat had still stung their eyes.

Derek came at them, his sword swinging.

Svenia shortened her spear’s reach, angling it up, stabbing at him, but she was still half-blinded from the blast. With a smooth dodge, Derek knocked the spear from her hands.

She kept backing away as he came at her with a vicious thrust, but it caught her chainmail and she drew her own sword.

Their blades clashed. Derek pushed, trying to get past her to reach Isolde, but—while he was very skilled at cutting and parrying with his sword—Svenia’s experience and skill kept him on the defensive.

Then Isolde completed her spell.

Crackle.

Two orbs appeared above her hands with lightning shooting between them. An evil smile spread across her face: the sort of smile reserved for witches in fairy tales as they were about to roast clever gingerbread men in their ovens.

“I didn’t forget about you, Derek,” she said.

He recoiled from her like a mouse before a snake.

“Ta-ta,” she said cheerily. “No making it to the end for you. Can’t cheat your way out of this one, I’m afraid.”

Swearing, Derek turned and started bolting deeper into the cave but Isolde—laughing merrily—blasted her orbs at him.

Crackle!

There was a cry of fear as the lightning raced after Derek before catching him, and then, he was gone.

“Aaaah,” she said with a great deal of satisfaction. “I have to say Svenia, my worries have suddenly disappeared. I‘d hardly care if we placed tenth!”

“Yeeaaaah!” Alex cheered, pumping his fists as they watched the illusions being transmitted from the cave. “Good job, Isolde! Damn good job!”

His team joined in celebrating, whooping, clapping and hugging each other. Even Grimloch snarled in satisfaction. Alex had Claygon raise his fists in salute while—in another part of the camp—the Ursa-Lupines were either stunned into silence, or groaned like someone had just told them that their grandmothers all hated them.

Derek, with his head hung low, suddenly appeared on a stone disk visibly trembling in rage, as waiting medical staff began checking him for injuries.

“Alright, quiet!” Thundar said to his team. “That’s two more points…come on…”

The team turned to an illusion that displayed the countdown marking The Grand Battle’s end.

5…4…3…2…1…

A bell rang.

There was dead silence as scores rose on a separate illusion.

Alex gasped.

In first place was the team that Tyris was on and he could hear them cheering in the distance. The Outcasts were next, and he could hear them cursing in disappointment at coming in second, not first.

But in third place…

“We did it!” Theresa screamed. “We medaled!”

The entire team erupted, jumping and hugging each other, overwhelmed with joy. Some of them were actually wiping tears from their eyes. Alex vibrated with excitement as the last of the competitors were teleported to the beach for a final check-over.

They’d done it.

For them, The Grand Battle was over.

Kybas trembled as he peeked out from his tunnel.

There was something up ahead, in among the trees, but he couldn’t see what it was.

He slipped out and crept a bit closer, staying low. The brush was flattened, leaves were shaking like something was standing there, but there was no one there.

A male voice began to chant strange words to a spell from within the brush. The words…they seemed to sting his ears. They were harsh sounding…ugly.

Something was going on, someone invisible was chanting right above his burrow. But, what did that mean?

Ugly words for a spell. An invisible spellcaster.

‘The demon summoner,’ he thought, his heart beat faster. ‘It’s the demon summoner!’

Kybas crept away, his mind went briefly to the warriors in his family: proud fighters who’d never let such a criminal get away…but goblins fought through bravery and in numbers. If he attacked alone and was killed, no one would know, then everyone would be in big trouble.

Silently, he slipped back into his burrow and sprinted toward another exit with Harmless running close behind. They passed through his empty garden, his only thoughts were getting to the end of another tunnel, and the horror of what he’d just seen.

When he’d entered the botanical gardens earlier, he’d heard someone. Someone who could help.

His ears twitched, he could hear them now.

‘Yes! They’re still here!’ he thought.

He and Harmless ran toward the noise until they reached a familiar face. Professor Salinger was crouched over a pot, testing the soil.

“Professor! Professor!” Kybas cried.

Salinger turned. “Hm, Kybas? What’re you doing arou-”

“No time to explain, we’ve got to go get help then get fighting!” he whispered in excitement. “The demon summoner’s here! Someone invisible’s in the gardens and I heard them chanting!”

Salinger paused. “Do you remember their words?”

Kybas repeated some of what he’d heard.

The professor went pale.

Then his jaw hardened.

“We need Baelin. Now.”