The southwest team split up once more. Phoenix was with a party heading directly over the middle of the wall, but they waited for the two other parties to get to the corner keeps. Solis and Tissan, once more, went the east route, along with three other flyers including Vor, one of Filian’s closest wingmates, while Telsan was with the west party, the smallest. Looking back, he saw Phoenix’s red wings, blazing brighter than ever as she soared up and over the wall. Here we go . . . we’ll see what they think of this. He himself, of course, had no idea what to make of the Phoenix situation, but he didn’t think the Magnates would actually disqualify them for her involvement. He was still trying to puzzle out Donnor’s words to her, however.

  They were just inside the northwestern area, Solis heard a thud accompanied by a small groan, and turned around to see Tissan slumping to the ground in front of two of Filian’s former wingmen, who were glaring distrustfully at Solis. The other looked on less aggressively, but he made no move to stop the two.

  “Oh, come on—” Solis began.

  “No, you look here. You come over to our team and everything starts going wrong,” said the one who’d clubbed the birdman. “Cornel was doing fine.”

  “Yeah, stirring up those elementalists and all,” said the other. “Plus, you’re friends with that flame freak.”

  What does that have to do with anything? Instinctively, Solis took up a guarding stance as though about to fight off these apparent bullies. “What, your buddies are going to club her over the head too? I’ll be they’re too scared to even think about touching her.”

  The three circled him. “Tan, if the birdman wakes up, we drag him to the border Ward,” Vor said with a gesture of the head. “First, gotta deal with this punk.”

  The boy he called Tan grinned, prompting Solis to roll his eyes. He supposed he should have been a little frightened, but he was just irritated. Within seconds, however, they’d gotten the jump on him and had him pinned between two sets of hands. He struggled and landed a few blows with legs and wings, but Vor pinned his wings back. However, instead of doing as they’d mentioned and dragging him to the Ward at the perimeter of the arena—just twenty paces away from their scuffle—they began beating him, striking face and chest and stomach.

  It wasn’t Solis’ first time taking a beating from such bullies, though he liked to think they’d all evolved and moved on from childhood rivalries. During the training for the games, any unnecessary physical violence between contestants had been strongly discouraged, and he’d almost felt a certain camaraderie with Gobross and Filian’s gangs . . . but there was a divide that no play or purpose, nor apparently teammate relationship, could bridge, and he was now feeling the effects of that even in Filian’s absence.

  Anger rose up in his chest, his throat, and he clenched his teeth not only against the facial abuse but the emotions themselves. He couldn’t say why, nor why he said nothing after they bound his arms. Perhaps he just rightly saw that no words would dissuade these delinquents from their course. And yet the rage built, even as his vision blurred and he felt the sharp pain dull. Somehow, in his throes, he managed to pull free of the young man on his right, beating his white wing at him before getting wrenched and kicked to the ground. There, they held him down with booted feet while Vor and the boy he’d thrown off laid into him with a new fury.

  Why . . . ? protested a rational part of his brain, wondering at the needless cruelty. They really hated him this much? But the rest of his brain was drowning it out right now, not in the black void that sought to take him, but the rage that had not abated.

  Then he saw a flash of something: A figure darker than night, cloaked in shadows, streaking across his vision despite blackness already dominating it. He couldn’t pinpoint the streak and perhaps it was merely a construct of his mind at a familiar sensation. He remembered this figure . . . Dark as night, strong, mysterious. Threatening.

  Stand up. Rise up, weak bearer of wings. Fight like a man.

  Somewhere, he saw a light. Not a true light, but a source of strength that called to him, and he took hold of it, as though seizing the day itself. His night slowly turned back into a sensory experience, and pained flooded back into his body. He clenched his jaw against the onslaught, looking up only with great difficulty to see that he was on the ground, his abusers leaving him while dragging Tissan’s struggling form toward the close Ward. With a silent snarl, he forced himself off the ground, rising wobbly before regaining his strength. Yes, it was back. Inexplicably.

  He rushed the three captors, barreling headlong into the one who was doing the least of the carrying. He knocked the boy right into the barrier, causing it to flash into visible existence, and a horn promptly announced his immediate disqualification. All three turned to look at him, but Solis was already physically prying Vor off of Tissan, freeing the Ornis’s arms whilst wrenching Vor’s shoulder backwards, toward the Ward. Solis tripped him, sending his upper body weight toward his disqualified comrade, then kicked, knocking his wings and back into the barrier.

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  Vor tried to pull him with him, but it was too late. Another horn blew, and suddenly a Magnate was hovering overhead, calling for both to come out of the arena. Vor’s first words had been something on the incredulous side, but now he snarled, “You’ll pay for this, Lightwing.”

  Solis and Tissan were already grappling with the last of Vor’s squad, managing to maneuver him in front of the wall and push him into it. Another horn blast. The two victors blew out a breath in sync and high-fived each other, turning toward the direction of the main northwestern castle, where their teammates were engaging Daryn Gobross’s forces.

  “You sure you’re all right, Solis?” Tissan asked uncertainly.

  Solis snorted. “What, this? This is—nah, nah I’m fine.” He gently prodded his right shoulder, where massive bruising had set in, and hoped it didn’t show too much on his face. He still had all his teeth, so that was good enough. He watched Phoenix’s fire burn, throwing sparks skyward even after her team landed in the castle, then glanced back at the keep they had just left behind. “Want to find that treasure?”

  Erika Dolce watched from the elementalists’ cell beneath the castle as their guards left hurriedly. Shouts came from above, indicating some kind of alert. Enemies in their territory, obviously, although they’d already dealt with a band of them at the arena’s center a bit earlier. She heard confusing cries of, “What is all that flame—is that her?” and indeed they seemed to be speaking of Phoenix. No one came down to let them out. Arming your own teammates to help stave off invaders made far too much sense. . . . She half hoped they were all taken out, because they deserved it for following someone as stupid as Daryn.

  She glanced down at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fingers only with great pain. Bruises and cuts traced all the way up her arms. Gobross had beat her well before locking her in here with the others, though she got no sympathy from anyone for it.

  Soon, steps padded on the stairs just out of sight of the barred cell door, and a figure turned toward them. “Erika? What are all you . . .”

  It was Phoenix, her cousin. “Don’t ask. How’d you do it?”

  “Excuse me?” The girl sounded almost innocent. Her wings were extinguished now, but Erika had heard the cries of alarm.

  “Regain your fire. The shouts—we heard it all.”

  “Oh.” Phoenix looked almost embarrassed. “It’s . . . hard to explain. How many of you are there down here? If the number of contestants reaches twenty, we’re supposed to go to the next round.”

  Erika narrowed her eyes. “Eleven. That can’t be few enough.”

  Phoenix began to shake her head, then frowned and cocked her head. “What’s that? Those horns . . .” The long blasts were followed by what sounded like a Magnate’s voice outside.

  A voice called down the stairs. “Hey, our side just won. They must have gotten the treasures.”

  Our side was clearly Phoenix’s, as the voice didn’t sound like one of Gobross’ boys, and the fact that her cousin was down here pestering her indicated they had won the keep. A comically confused grin spread over Phoenix’s face. When the girl started to turn away, one of Erika’s companions asked, “Hey! Are you going to let us out of here now?”

  “Oh. Yes, my bad.” Phoenix fumbled at a pocket on her leather vest, withdrawing a key. “Here you go.”

  “And that concludes the first round of this year’s festival games!” cried Hash, mopping at his face with a handkerchief. voice once again magnified to project to all onlookers through the mysterious craft of the Magnates. “My, that got intense. Never before seen, I say, never before. The next round shall begin . . . in a few minutes!”

  A ripple of noise came from the wide-ranging audience, presumably surprise at the suddenness of the proceeding events. Though Solis thought he heard cries of “About time!” in there as well. He nudged Telsan. “Didn’t think it’d be quite that soon. They must be impatient to have it over.” Or something else . . . That thought didn’t appeal well to him. Perhaps the Magnates foresaw a different outcome if they pushed the contestants who were most worn out without allowing them proper rest first. After such an event, one day would have been appropriate. They were currently at ease, drinking much-needed water and partaking of refreshments near the east entrance while the Herald prattled on.

  Soon, Donnor supplanted him, taking to the air for superior presence. “Thank you all for staying throughout the game. And for our second round! A much simpler event: A flight test.”

  Already, Melka had flattened the entire stone plain back to its original state, and now she came forth to erect a different field, this time in the sky. In fact, the stone trial grounds appeared to be unchanged, yet she caused rings to appear in the sky seemingly from nothing. The course started just north of where they now waited, some fifty feet in the air. She formed the rings one at a time, golden and glowing, stretching the aerial course high in the sky and far beyond the edges of the island, spaced just close enough to be able to distinguish one from the next. It was hard to tell from the ground, but each one appeared to be at least thirty paces in diameter. Donnor explained that each would get smaller as contestants passed through, and that only the top four would continue to the final round.

  Solis looked to Telsan again, realizing he’d forgotten something. “So, was it you who found the other treasure?”

  Telsan nodded his feathered head. “Yep. Well, Fitch found it. I flew it back to base, and that was that.”

  “So all those extra rules were for nothing.”

  Phoenix held up a finger. “Except the team-swapping one.”

  Solis shrugged in reply.