The centre of the Great Hall bustled with hungry and rowdy students, shouldering one another to try and get the crispiest pieces of bacon, pouring their goblets to the brim using pitchers of milk, and fighting one another to attain the freshest baked bread. Alex and her brother had distanced themselves from the anarchy, and instead sat in the corner of the hall, right underneath a wall of brightly woven cloths.
Alex rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, then leaned across the table and skewered a few pieces of fatty bacon with her fork. The movement was pure agony considering every muscle in her back ached from her swordplay class the day before. It had been two weeks since her first day at the academy. And in those two weeks, the pain had never once taken a day off.
For six days a week Baylor students were expected to be up before the sun, training, reading, and writing for ten hours until that same sun set. To say the first few days were a shock to Alex’s system would be an understatement. Mundane movements such as reaching for a goblet or putting on her boots had become excruciating tests of willpower. But slowly and surely, Alex was beginning to get adjusted to the rigorous routine of a Baylor’s Academy student.
Hilsbry had assigned her and Link to the five basic classes for beginner students: Swordplay, Elemental magic, archery, Horsemanship, and Spiritwielding. After a fortnight's worth of training, Alex was turning heads in water and wind magic in her Elemental classes, was keeping up with the best of them in archery, being called the horse whisperer in her Horsemanship class, and was holding her own in her Basic Swordplay class.
If only it was the same for her Spiritwielding. Alex had spent hours upon hours scouring through the Academy’s library, reading all the books and scrolls she could find on the subject. She had mastered the theory of Spiritwielding, but the practicality was as elusive to her as the highest score on the Donkey Kong machine at her local arcade which she had been trying to obtain for years.
The biggest shock to Alex was she came from a technologically superior world, which put her at a disadvantage from the get-go. No toothbrushes meant she had to brush her teeth with a raggedy old cloth every morning and night. No porcelain toilets meant she had to squat over a feral hole with a smell so pungent it could burn her nostril hairs. No hair products meant that birds were literally trying to nest in her wild mane.
On top of that, public hygiene was practically non-existent. It wasn’t uncommon for Nocereans to only bathe once a month. Three hundred sweaty, dirt-covered students all huddled together in one castle—Alex had never smelt such vile odours, even when she had walked into the toilet after Link had finished a number-two.
And then there was the stairs. Alex wished she and her brother could go back in time and invent elevators for Nocera. Her legs were so painful to the touch that a gentle breeze could have rolled through and caused her to howl in agony.
But the worst part for Alex was that all these things were an everyday reminder of how out of place she was in this world. As much as she tried to hide it from Link, she thought about home almost every waking minute of the day: If Mom was watching episodes of Law and Order without her; if Dad had got his old Dodge Challenger up and running yet; if the real Mr Fluffles missed his Mummy; even if anyone at school cared about what had happened to her. The flat-out training was a welcome distraction, but as intense as it was, nothing could ever keep Alex’s mind off home.
“Unravel the serpent,” Link mumbled as he massaged his stubble. “Unravel the serpent.”
Link had been trying to dissect this riddle ever since Xavier had given it, but so far to no avail. Alex threw some more bacon in her mouth, watching Link nearly yank out his hair in frustration trying to solve it for the millionth time. She had to admit it was pretty entertaining.
“Unravel could mean to untangle, to untwist, to pull apart . . . .” Link’s eyebrows furrowed. “Or it could mean to solve, or perhaps decipher. But as for the serpent part, that’s extremely vague. It could be the character’s appearance he’s talking about, their mannerisms, maybe even their Spells.”
“Spells?” Alex asked with a crammed mouthful of bacon.
Link suppressed a smile. “Yes, chipmunk. Spells. Like, I don’t know, the character could be a Shifter and transform themselves into a giant two-headed snake or something.”
She almost regurgitated her bacon upon that thought. Shifting was a branch of magic where the user drank the blood of a creature before battle. Then, infusing the Eternal Source with the aforementioned blood, they could then transform themselves into that exact creature. An oh-so-twisted branch of magic that only Link’s mind could have conjured up.
“Quite the imagination,” Alex said as she tried her best to imitate Hilsbry’s belittling voice.
Link pursed his lips then ate the remainder of his food in silence, with not so much as a faint chuckle at her impersonation. Alex could tell the riddle was getting to him. She had been trying her best to lighten up the mood, but she felt as if he was making it impossible.
“Get any reading done last night?” Link asked after a few minutes, clearly trying to change the subject.
“Look at these bags,” Alex said, pointing to the bottom of her eyelids. “Look at them. I can’t sleep with Miss Creepy lurking about now, can I? I’ve already read The Fundamentals of Swordplay and Broadbeck’s Book of Basic Branches twice.” She paused for a moment in thought. “No, wait, actually three times!”
“OK, OK,” Link said, looking genuinely afraid. “Sorry I asked.”
“I hate Basic Branches,” someone whispered from beside them. Alex turned to the noise.
A chubby boy with oak coloured eyes was sitting two chairs away from her. He had muddy hair that was wavier than noodles, pasty skin, and a patch of freckles surrounded his bulbous nose. She wondered if he had he been listening to their conversation the entire time. The boy raised his head; when he realized Alex and Link had heard him, he seemed to sink lower into his chair.
For a few minutes, there was nothing but a drawn out uncomfortable silence. Alex broke it by asking him what his name was.
The boy scratched his head as if the question had stumped him. “Uh, Winstell,” he whispered to himself. It didn’t take Alex long to realize he wasn’t strong on eye contact.
And I thought I was shy?
“Pleasure to meet you, Winstell; this is my brother Deonis,” Alex said gesturing across the table to Link. “And my name is—”
“I know your names,” Winstell murmured, his eyes fixed firmly on his feet. “You’re both in nearly all of my classes.”
Alex desperately tried to recall this boy in her memory—wavy hair, pasty face—but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t seem to remember him. She felt utterly horrible. Usually she was the kid no one remembered.
“Uh, last lesson in Spiritwielding, I lost control Channelling and almost blew off my arm,” Winstell said glumly, almost as if he was trying to jog their memories.
“Oh,” Link exclaimed, grinning stupidly. “I remember you now. You certainly made the academy’s Healers earn their gold that day.”
Alex glared at her brother. His grin quickly faded.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” Winstell said, fidgeting with the sleeve of his doublet. “You can, uh—” He cleared his throat. “Carry on with your conversation if you like.”
“Why do you hate the Book of Basic Branches?’” Alex asked Winstell, pretending as if she hadn’t heard him.
Winstell’s eyes briefly met hers as if to verify the question was intended for him, then they quickly fell back to his feet. “Because Broadbeck tends to drift off-topic nearly every chapter. If he were to, uh, be more specific, I believe the book would be half the size.”
“Agreed,” Alex said. “And the students here would have half the headaches trying to read it.”
A hint of a smile played on Winstell’s lips. He attempted to shovel a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, but his elbow had knocked the table before the airplane could land. The cutlery hit the floor with a sharp clank. Winstell leaned over in his chair to pick the spoon up, his face pink with embarrassment. As he bent downward, a button from the bottom of his doublet popped off, exposing his snow-white belly.
“Holy cow, he’s enormous,” Link exclaimed.
Thinking he was talking about Winstell, Alex almost lunged across the table and smacked her brother in the face. But then she realized Link’s back was turned, and his gaze was fixed on a behemoth of a man who had just walked through the doors of the great hall.
The man had an unkempt ginger beard and walked with his shoulders pinched back. Upon closer examination, Alex concluded his biceps were bigger than her head. Link was right, the man was enormous.
“That’s Daedrox,” Winstell said as he tucked the bottom of his doublet hastily into his pants. “He’s one of the favourites to take home the prize.”
Alex knew by the prize, Winstell was referring to the polished Golden Gauntlet embedded with a Summoning Shard the champion of the tournament would receive. But looking at the size of Daedrox’s hands and forearms, if he won, they’d have to do some drastic resizing.
“There’s no way he can be a student,” Link remarked as he gawked at the man.
“Uh, he, uh, he is,” Winstell said apprehensively, his eyes darting back and forth between Alex and Link. “Believe it or not, Daedrox is only seventeen. That being said, uh, you do know there are no age restrictions at Baylor’s?”
Alex and her brother exchanged puzzled glances.
“Some students discover they’re Gifted early,” Winstell continued. “Whereas some, they uh, they take a bit more time.” He inclined his head to a shaggy-haired man with a stubbled jaw, his mouth crammed full of oats. The man had to be in his mid-twenties, yet he was wearing the same royal blue surcoats that Baylor’s students wore.
“Late bloomers,” Alex mumbled to herself, looking around the Great Hall at all the other students. Some she had assumed were just kids her age with young faces, others she thought had just developed early. But now Winstell had mentioned it, it was as if the fog had been cleared.
Alex could now see students that looked like they were ten- or even eight-year-olds. Students that seemed like they’d be better suited teaching instead of learning among them.
This is insane, she thought. How can we be expected to compete against fully grown adults and children who look like they belong in kindergarten?
Alex looked over at Daedrox, gorging on an entire chicken carcass in one hand and a wheel of cheese as big as a plate in the other. Towering over his fellow students even when he was sitting down and they were standing.
“But Daydress—or whatever his name is—looks like he’s thirty or something,” Link said to Winstell, matching Alex’s bewildered expression.
“Uh, his name is Daedrox,” Winstell corrected. “Some say he’s a half-giant. I uh, I’m not convinced myself. He specializes in Earth and Telekinesis magic. They say he discovered he was Gifted at an early age, but has been training in secret to take out the ultimate prize.” Winstell fiddled with one of his buttons. “Some people do that. Worth a lot of money, the, uh, the, uh, Golden Gauntlet.”
Alex didn’t know what surprised her more: this enormous killing machine they called Daedrox, or how much knowledge Winstell had just spontaneously blurted out.
Alex glanced over at Link to find the lines of his face pressed together in thought. From his expression, she knew exactly what he was thinking: Winstell’s knowledge of the students could help them track down Xavier’s character.
Alex thought about snapping at Link. Manipulating someone for his own personal gains? How dare he? But then she thought about their predicament: Trapped inside a fantasy world they had created, in the middle of an epic war between East and West. Death was literally around every corner. So, she left Link to his own devices. Besides, her brother may have intended to use Winstell, but Alex was actually enjoying his company. She saw a bit of herself in him, minus the crippling shyness.
Winstell reached across the table and plucked a lumpy, charcoal coloured egg from a platter. He sliced the peculiar-looking food in half, took three almond-shaped seeds from the middle, and then took a spoonful from one of the halves. The food’s interior was bright pink and had a creamy texture.
“What is that?” Alex asked.
Winstell looked at her suspiciously as he swallowed his mouthful. “You’ve, uh, you’ve never tried one before?”
Alex shook her head, feeling silly.
“Karabanes, a, uh, a fruit native to the Kingdom of Meadows.” Winstell offered her his remaining half. “All yours.”
Alex studied the Karabane in her hand, feeling its rough and bumpy exterior. She scooped half a spoonful of the creamy substance, held it before her nose and then took a sniff. The fruit smelled of sour cream and citrus. She extended her tongue hesitantly, ready to retract it back if her taste buds picked up anything gag-inducing.
Winstell watched her eagerly as she took her first taste. The substance was overpoweringly tangy but at the same time had a creamy taste and consistency. Alex’s mind was already thinking of all the cakes and tarts that could be made with the Karabane. She also suspected the fruit would go well on toast. A great alternative to marmalade.
“Tastes amazing,” Alex said, taking a bigger spoonful this time.
Winstell smiled at her sheepishly.
“So, Winstell, are there any other favourites to win the tournament?” Link asked conversationally.
Winstell grinned at her brother despite the fact Link had pronounced his name wrong. His eyes begun to eagerly scan the clustered tables surrounding him. “Athuros,” he said, directing his head towards a tiny boy in the opposite corner with his back pressed against the stone wall.
The boy seemed no older than ten, with brilliant blue eyes and curly brown hair that reached his ears. His introverted body language and the fact he was sitting alone suggested he wasn’t much of a social butterfly. But this kid looked about as harmless as a beagle puppy in a pet shop window.
Maybe I’m looking at the wrong student?
“Don’t uh, don’t let his small stature fool you,” Winstell remarked, as if he could tell what Alex was thinking. “He comes from a long line of renowned Shifters. It’s said he can transform himself into one of those, uh, uh, what are they called? Ah, yes, those wretched Velekais. I’ve heard of students being able to shift their body parts before, an arm or a leg maybe, but to be able to shift his whole body at such a young age. . . ” Winstell shook his head from side to side as if the mere thought scared him.
“Who else?” Link asked a little too eagerly. Winstell didn’t seem to mind one bit. He grinned shyly and pointed across the hall to a limber, dark-skinned girl with luscious hair rippling down her back in ringlets. She had a coffee-coloured birthmark on her neck the shape of a crescent.
“Zudane',” Winstell whispered almost dreamily.
On the other side of the hall, the girl Zudane’ seemed to be in the middle of entertaining a group of students with the reenactment of a battle. She stood on top of a chair as she performed wild gestures. At one point, she seemed to be a grizzly bear gnawing on someone's arm, then the next she was wielding her spoon like a sword, slashing the air with wild strikes.
If this performance is anything to go by, I may have found my next charades partner, Alex thought.
“The greatest Spiritwielder to have ever attended Baylor’s,” Winstell boasted as if he had something to do with it. “Uh, and that’s not speculation either, that’s a fact . . . and the way she uses a longsword, it’s as if the steel is actually, like uh, like, like—what’s the expression?” Winstell trailed off and then looked down at his feet in thought.
“An extension of her arm?” Alex suggested.
“Yes,” Winstell exclaimed, his neck jiggling as he nodded, “an extension.” His big, oak-coloured eyes continued to watch Zudane’ intently. The same look Alex had seen Link give to Nadine. Winstell was love-struck.
“How do you know all this if you’re in the core classes with us?” Link asked Winstell. “I mean, if these students were favourites wouldn’t most of them be in advanced classes?”
Winstell finally averted his eyes from Zudane’ then beamed proudly, as if he had expected this question to come up eventually. “My father is the Coinskeeper for the tournament. He always tries to get inside information from me before the Gauntlet, but uh, obviously it’s against the rules.” Winstell chuckled feebly, then leaned in without making any eye contact and whispered, “Between you and me, though, he has paid spies everywhere.”
“Coinskeeper?” Alex blurted, scooping some more of the zesty Karabane fruit onto her spoon. Who would’ve thought I’d be so confused by my own book?
“Yes, uh, I should explain, should I not?” Winstell said. “My father runs the gambling business for the entire tournament. It’s his establishment's job to gauge the students’ abilities and adjust their betting odds accordingly. Uh, if he gets them wrong, his establishment loses money, you see.”
Alex made a mental note the next time she was around Winstell she needed to have a quill and paper at the ready. Her mind was practically overheating trying to process all the knowledge he had just dropped.
“So, any others?” Link asked rudely.
Winstell pressed a goblet of milk to his lips, swallowed, and then looked across the hall with envious eyes. “Lioden.”
Alex almost spat out her mouthful of Karabane upon hearing his name. For some reason, she couldn’t look up; like her body was chucking a tantrum and ignoring the signals her brain was trying to send it. Stop overreacting Alex. Maybe Lioden is a common name in Nocera, like Matthew, James, or Adam is in our world.
“Hey, look, Taytora,” Link said, chuckling, “it’s that creepy guy from the Sleeping Willow.”
Damn it.
Sure enough, when Alex looked up, she found Lioden sitting by himself two tables across, biting his lower lip thoughtfully as he scratched onto a piece of parchment with a quill. An older student with a crooked nose leaned over Lioden’s shoulder to grab a hunk of cheese, bumping his hand as he wrote. Lioden gave the man daggers. The man quickly strutted away.
“Perfect Lioden,” Winstell said with disdain as he glared across the hall. “With his perfect hair, perfect singing, perfect teleporting and illusionary magic, perfect—”
“You umm . . . you have a milk moustache, Winstell,” Link butted in, pointing to his upper lip.
“A what? Oh.” Winstell wiped his mouth hastily with the back of his hand, clearly embarrassed. “Where are my manners? First dropping my spoon and now this. If Father were to see me—”
“Why do you hate Lioden?” Alex asked Winstell, a part of her hoping Lioden wasn’t some big bully or arrogant douche bag.
“Uh, I don’t exactly hate him in the sense,” Winstell said with a faint smile. “Just sibling rivalry, I guess. Not like I’m much of a rival to him, though. He could probably best me in his sleep.”
“He’s your brother?” Alex asked in disbelief.
“Younger brother,” Winstell stated glumly. “Not like that makes a difference. He’s uh, he’s always been Father’s favourite.”
Alex looked over at Lioden, then back at Winstell, noticing Lioden’s chiselled features and Winstell’s round ones, their different eye colours, even their body language. These two were as opposite as cats and dogs. She wouldn’t have picked them as cousins, let alone brothers.
That was when the realization occurred to her: this was exactly what people must have thought when they found out she and Link were brother and sister. He was six-foot six and freakishly good at any sport, and she was a self-proclaimed Oompa Loompa who had a habit of colliding with inanimate objects.
Alex just wanted to cuddle Winstell. She could practically feel his pain radiating from here. She knew how it felt to stand in the shadow of a perfect sibling.
Winstell took another swig of milk, cautiously wiping away any signs of a milk moustache afterward. “Uh, and that, uh, and that brings me to my final two favourites.” Winstell paused, his eyes moving back and forth between Alex and Link as he took another, long gulp of milk.
Is he suggesting what I think he is? Alex wondered.
Link erupted in laughter, causing most of the students in the hall to look his way, then his face turned into confusion when he realized Winstell might not be joking. “Wha-What do you mean? Are you—” Link cleared his throat. “Are you talking about us?”
“In scarcely two weeks of being at the academy,” Winstell said, “the two of you have learned more than I have in two years. Everyone’s talking: the students, my father's spies, even Baylor’s masters.”
Link looked at Alex baffled, then back at Winstell. “But how could we possibly . . . .” He scratched his head. “I mean, we aren’t even in any of the advanced classes?”
“The uh, the Golden Gauntlet is in less than three months,” Winstell said, oblivious to another milk moustache above his upper lip. “If I were a gambler, which, uh, despite my father's profession I am not, I would be betting all of my coins on the both of you.”
Alex and Link looked at him in bewilderment.
Winstell's eyes darted from side to side, then down the length of his nose. “Do I, uh, do I have another milk moustache above my lip or something?”