Julie now avoided him whenever she could. When their paths did cross, she muttered “Hello” and hurried off, usually flanked by a protective phalanx of girlfriends. The Valentine’s Day dinner and dance had come and gone without Max in attendance. The only consolation was that Mum had reportedly hounded Connor throughout the evening, claiming he still owed her a date from Halloween.
Max put Julie out of his mind, however, as he jogged with Rolf and Sarah on the muddy path to the Smithy. It was mid-March, and there was a brisk, wet wind in the air as Rowan shook off the vestiges of winter. Small buds sprinkled the branches, shoots of grass peeked from the soil, and the sky teemed with convoys of pink-tinged clouds rolling in from the sea. The trio quickened their pace as Old Tom chimed five o’clock.
Their class had been attempting more complex scenarios as teams, and the three hoped to complete one before dinner. Three other First Years had just set the best mark, a thirty-one, on a Level Three scenario requiring them to track and capture a golden fawn. To complicate things, the scenario also offered opponents: a pack of mischievous hampersprites who attacked in swarms, clinging to one’s legs until the victim was toppled and bound with tree roots.
Sarah punched in the security code, and they entered the building. Moments later, Max felt his usual queasiness of anticipation as the elevator opened to the familiar granite walls of the Course’s trophy room. Sarah’s speech came rapid-fire.
“Don’t forget—communication is the key,” she said. “Our goal is to use sunbursts and frighten the fawn to the central clearing, where we can converge on it. Rolf, you’ll camp in the clearing so at least one of us is already there; plus, you’re the best at Hypnotics. Max, can you Amplify whenever you want?”
“No,” said Max. “But I’m getting better—Miss Boon’s been giving me lessons.”
“Will you try during the scenario? I think it’s probably our best chance to catch it.”
Max nodded but felt uneasy. There were times he feared that his body simply couldn’t contain the energy that Amplification generated. Others feared it, too; Miss Boon often kept her distance during their lessons, instructing Max from across the room.
While they waited for the elevator, Max wandered over to a heavy mail gauntlet suspended in one of the cases. The gauntlet was enormous, forged for a hand twice Max’s size. Its rings and plates were twisted and battered. It was the Gauntlet of Beowulf, and next to it were inscribed the names of those students who had demonstrated exceptional courage. Max’s eyes wandered over the list, wondering what deeds the students had performed to merit the award. Craning his head, he did a double take. Etched above in fiery script was the name Peter Varga.
Max blinked. According to Ms. Richter, that was Ronin’s real name.
Sarah’s voice hissed, “Max—come on! The elevator’s here!”
Level Three was paneled in tortoiseshell, the swirls creating illusions of depth in contrast to its flat silver doors. Sarah went to door three and punched codes into its console.
“Everybody ready?” asked Sarah, clapping her hands with excitement. With a twist of the knob, they stepped into another world.
Max instantly noticed the different aromas; polished wood and metal had been replaced by moss, earth, and pine. His eyes adjusted quickly to the light as he scanned the deepening sky and gauged the distance across a meadow of tall grass and low bushes bordered by an encircling hedge of forest. The sun’s last rays shone orange through gaps in the western trees. Some movement caught his eye; deer were grazing in the meadow, but there was no telltale glint of gold to signal their quarry.
“Rolf, take a position near those bushes in the center,” said Sarah urgently. “Keep low and choose a path downwind from those deer. Max and I will split up and head in opposite directions around the forest. Remember what Mr. Watanabe said: slow and steady. Our chances are best on the first try, so make it count!”
Max nodded and slipped into the forest, hugging the trail and avoiding the twigs and branches. He moved quickly; the sun was setting, and its light would be valuable in spotting their target’s golden coat. The air was cool, but perspiration formed on Max’s brow as he scanned the forest for the reflective eyes of hampersprites. Periodically, he would stop to listen but heard only the beating of his heart and the buzzing of mosquitoes.
Suddenly, a fountain of red sparks erupted like firecrackers above the forest canopy across the meadow—Sarah was in trouble! Max burst out of the forest and raced across the clearing. The deer scattered; Rolf stood up from his hiding spot. “Stay hidden!” Max hissed as he raced past him, his body beginning to Amplify. Seconds later, Max had reached the other side, leaping over a low hedge and into the dark forest.
Three hideous lime-green creatures with mossy hair and yellow cat’s eyes clung to Sarah’s legs like stubborn toddlers while a fourth wrestled with her hands. Hampersprites. To Max’s alarm, another gang of five had taken hold of a tree root and were lugging it like a fire hose to bind her.
“Solas!” he yelled, flexing his hand and filling the forest with a brilliant flash of light. The hampersprites shrieked and shielded their eyes, permitting Sarah to fling one aside and begin peeling the others off her legs.
Max leapt away as a howling hampersprite came charging at him. He took hold of its little arm and tossed it at those carrying the tree root. The little creatures were dashed to the side, losing hold of the root, which promptly resumed its rigid state.
Sarah had by now raised a low ring of red flames around herself. A half-dozen scowling hampersprites prowled around it, cursing in their high-pitched, jabbering voices. With a yelp, one tried to hurdle the flames, but succeeded only in catching its loincloth on fire. The creature fell to the ground while several others rushed in to smother the flames.
From the corner of his eye, Max caught a golden gleam. Watching the action, with an inquisitive tilt of its delicate head, stood the golden fawn.
“Sarah—on the path!” he hissed. “There it is!”
Sarah risked a quick turn of her head, just as she raised a burst of flame to singe a hampersprite that had slunk behind her.
“Go get it, Max!” she panted. “I’ve got this under control. Run!”
As if sensing the upcoming chase, the fawn swished its tail and bolted down the path. With a predatory leap, Max was after it, his feet kicking up bits of bark and soil. Max quickened his pace and ignored the sting of branches that whipped at his face, but the golden fawn always managed to bound ahead just out of reach, holding to the gentle curve of the trail.
I’ll never catch it this way, thought Max. This must be part of the scenario—speed alone can’t catch it. It’s sticking to the path—I have to head it off!
Veering to the left, he sprinted out into the meadow, estimating the best angle at which to cross the clearing and intercept the fawn. He ran fast and low, trying to make use of whatever cover was available. Slowing almost to a stop, he crawled on his belly through a thicket and reentered the forest. He grinned as he heard the soft thud of trotting footsteps coming down the path. Scanning about for cover, Max leapt twelve feet straight up, onto a thick branch overhanging the trail. A moment later, he was perched above the path like a great cat lying in ambush.
The approaching footsteps slowed; something was now moving very deliberately. Max hushed his breathing and wiped the sweat out of his eyes. Squinting, he saw a shape emerge from the shadows, walking slowly and clearly too big to be the fawn. Max flickered with annoyance as he thought it was Rolf abandoning his post. Annoyance, however, withered to sickening dread as the figure stole closer on the forest floor below him.
It was the ears that triggered Max’s initial rush of terror.