The Culling Trials (Shadowspell Academy #2)(14)

Pete took off running toward Ethan, and we stumbled after him, limbs heavy. We reached Ethan as he bent down and started digging through the dirt and rock at his feet.

Pete sprung at Ethan—and slammed into an invisible wall. He rolled backward, shaking his head, growling and spitting, claws slashing at the empty air.

A wide grin spread across Ethan’s face as he turned to face us, protected in his magical bubble. He fisted his hand and stood. My heart sank as he peeled back his fingers, showing us what lay on his palm. A chunk of gold in a perfect square. Like a Rubik’s Cube only without the moving pieces.

“Dang it,” Wally said, deflating.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed at us, cutting between me and Gregory. “You found the treasure at the last challenge, didn’t you? That’s why you stayed behind. You found it, but you didn’t say anything.”

We all shifted in the following silence.

Ethan nodded like that was answer enough. He dropped his square chunk of gold into his pocket before waving his wand, taking away the magical barrier. Rather than stow the wand, he pointed it at Pete to keep him at bay.

Pete gave one last hissing snarl, turned and lifted his tail at Ethan. A distinct roll of stink filled the air, aimed at Ethan. His face turned green as he shot forward, through the cloud of stench and toward the doorway.

“I won’t forget,” Ethan said through clenched teeth, “but we may still need each other. For now.”

The rest of us followed him to the door as two individuals on opposite sides of the tower crawled up over the ledge. Both looked a lot…well, more goblin-like than Gregory. They had large eyes, small, gangly bodies and knobby, curved fingers.

Wally’s voice dipped. “Keep your enemies close, and your friends closer.”

“You have that saying wrong,” I said.

The six of us stepped through the door and shut it behind us.

Hands banged on it—the goblins who’d followed us.

We stood in a nondescript white room, empty but for a stooped figure in a suit with a huge, pointed nose and large, globe-like eyes. Obviously another goblin. His expression didn’t change as we passed, though he seemed to watch us longer than was prudent.

The only way to go was through an empty white corridor. Our footsteps echoed and none of us spoke. We reached another white room devoid of furnishing, art, or any identifying marks whatsoever. A padded room wouldn’t have been so uncomfortable—at least the upholstery wouldn’t have had such a bright, punishing gleam. Three doors stood side by side, not labeled.

“I hate this place,” I said, feeling a strange urge to drift toward the door on my right.

“We have that much in common,” Ethan said, marching toward the door I would’ve picked. “We’re almost done. The last challenge will be the easiest.”

“Oh really? Fantastic. I could use a break,” Wally said, starting off after him.

Ethan grabbed the door handle with the confidence born of a leader—or of a cheater who knew where he was going. As we shuffled in after him, my mouth dropped open.

An enormous field stretched out as far as the eye could see filled with nothing but row upon row of hay stacks. Equal distance apart, the same size and height, there was no telling them apart, and once the door behind us closed and disappeared, there were no doorways out.

“I think I’d rather be back in the white room,” I muttered, now glad to follow Ethan. I had a feeling a person could walk for an eternity in these fields, the landscape never changing, the bright though sunless sky never dulling, and never find a way out.

“I thought you were a farmer,” Wally said. “You should be familiar with hay.”

“Being familiar with hay is vastly different than…this.” I shook my head as we wound through the rows.

Ethan pulled out his paper and tapped it with his wand. Blue lines slowly soaked into the page, forming into a map, which then rose up as a 3D configuration of the area around us, including Ethan. A miniature figure bent over an even smaller piece of paper, appeared within the 3D map.

“Wow,” I said, stepping closer. On the map, another figure popped into existence, standing beside the first—me, I was guessing—and circled in red. A warning. Someone was too close and would know what he was doing. “Your source is thorough with the details.”

Ethan turned, getting his bearings before setting out, the rest of us in tow like the little ducklings the troll had thought us. “My family employs only the best,” he said, stalling occasionally when he needed a prompt from his paper. The thing was idiot proof.

“But surely some other high-powered family who lacks morals also has a good insider,” I said, grabbing a piece of hay and rolling it between my fingers. It didn’t feel quite right, a little silkier than what I was used to—not scratchy enough to be real.

“We employ the best, because we are the best,” Ethan answered. “There are others with similar information, sure, but as you’ve seen, they can’t cut it in the trials. They aren’t good enough, even with the guiding hand.” He paused for a moment. “And it isn’t a moral issue. These trials are rigged. They are geared toward those with the right magic. That’s unfair for everyone else. I’m simply…making it fair.”

“No.” I smiled and shook my head. “You’re not evening the playing field for everyone, just for yourself. Nice try, though, with the whole justification speech.”