Page 43 of The Tribes of Magic (Paragons #3)
TEAM VICTORY
I f the General already had an informant in the Castle, why had he made such a big show just now, encouraging Knights and Apprentices to spy on one another?
Did this have something to do with me? The General knew I was hanging out with Conner—he’d told me as much—but why warn me at all?
If he had all the evidence he needed to kick me out, why not just do it?
Why try to recruit more spies to tell him what he already knew?
These questions haunted me all the way to the big training arena behind the Metamorphs’ castle.
The arena consisted of a large, open field, covered in grass, at the edge of a forest overgrown with eucalyptus trees, ferns, and assorted flowering flora.
I’d read books with pictures of tropical forests in them. This forest looked exactly like that.
The Apprentices weren’t hard to spot. A bunch of teenagers in black t-shirts, shorts, and running shoes really stood out against the sea of verdant green grass.
Our mentor today was Jareth Mars, a Metamorph Knight with short brown hair, bronze skin, and hazel eyes.
At seventeen, Jareth was only a year older than we were.
He’d been an Apprentice himself just last year.
“The famous Savannah Winters. So nice of you to finally join us, snowflake.” His wink was so playful, it was almost hard to believe he turned into a big, bad were-bull.
But his next words were a potent reminder of his harder nature.
“You’re late. Drop and give me twenty pushups for being a slacker. ”
“I’m not a slacker,” I protested. “The General?—”
“I don’t care what the General is doing. I only care what the Metamorphs are doing.”
I didn’t point out that I wasn’t a Metamorph—and neither was anyone else here, at least not yet. We wouldn’t be inducted into our Tribes until the Ball next week.
“Sorry, snowflake. You can’t sweet-talk your way out of this one. Only Elves award points for that.”
A few of the Apprentices grunted. Rhett looked positively gleeful.
“Well, don’t just stand there.” Jareth pointed to the ground. “Drop and give me thirty pushups.”
I frowned. “I thought it was twenty.”
“Well, now it’s thirty.” His mouth twisted into a smile. “Because you wasted my time. Keep wasting it, and I’ll make it fifty.”
Jareth wasn’t a bad guy. He was just strict. He was a Metamorph, after all. Metamorphs lived and breathed pushups, running, weightlifting—basically, any and all forms of physical exertion. They particularly enjoyed competitive physical exertion. And punitive physical exertion.
On top of his Metamorph predilections, Jareth was also the youngest of the mentors this year. He had to prove himself to the others. He had to show them he was just as capable of bringing out the Apprentices’ magic as anyone else.
He certainly knew how to put on a good show.
Several of the Apprentices were laughing at me, notably Rhett Wilson and his new sidekick, a big guy named Wayne.
Their teammate Sara was laughing too. So was everyone on Team Victory, except my brother Dante.
Team Victory was full of tough guys, adrenaline junkies, and crazy-pants people.
Most of them didn’t look very happy to be training with me today.
Dutch and Bronte weren’t laughing. They were probably too busy tallying up how many points my tardiness had cost our team. I sighed. It wasn’t like this was my fault. I was only late because the General had held me back.
I ignored the laughs and glowers, dropping to the ground. I executed thirty pretty pushups, then jumped up to my feet and smiled at Jareth.
He pretended not to look impressed. “Now that the little princess is finally done holding up our schedule, we can proceed.”
Jareth assigned us sprinting drills with a magical twist. We were supposed to shape-shift to enhance our performance.
The results were mixed. Most of the Apprentices accomplished nothing more than turning their face red, but Dante, who was standing next to me in the line, managed to pull off a pretty convincing werewolf morph.
“Nice,” I told him. “So you really are a Metamorph.”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
No. Not really. Before we’d come to the Fortress, Dante had told me he was going to be a Metamorph. And my brother generally got whatever he set his mind to. Everything came so easily to him.
“Excellent work, Rhett.”
I glanced down the line, to where that big, buff bully Rhett was showing off his were-bear form to Jareth. I didn’t like Rhett, but I couldn’t deny that his morph was very convincing. So convincing that if I met that bear in the woods, I’d absolutely run the other way.
“Looks like you’re getting Tweedle-Dee in your Tribe,” I told Dante.
“Actually, he’s Tweedle-Dum.” Dante sighed. “And I was hoping he ended up being something other than a Metamorph. Anything else.”
I got that. I wouldn’t want a meanie like Rhett in my Tribe either.
Not that that was very likely. Polymages were so rare, I only knew a handful of them.
No, less than a handful. Kato, the Polymage Knight Commander.
Conner, the Polymage Knight-turned-Rebel-leader.
The mysterious Polymage Templar we’d fought at the Spirit Tree.
And then there was me: Savannah Winters, Knight Apprentice and Official Disturber of the Peace, at least as far as the General was concerned.
I had all kinds of magic—but had a hard time controlling most of it.
I could also read a book whose pages appeared blank to everyone else, including other Polymages.
Oh, and I scared the daylights out of the Cursed Ones.
Being a Polymage meant I could wield Metamorph magic. I could complete the task Jareth had set all of us…if only I could force my magic to cooperate. I clenched my fists, squeezed my mouth together, and tried to morph myself a pair of big butterfly wings.
Nothing happened.
“What will it be, snowflake?” Jareth said. “A mouse? Or maybe a cute little hedgehog?”
A bunch of the Apprentices laughed.
I stood up as tall as my short height could manage. Then I met Jareth in his eyes. “Why bother with morphing? I can beat them all just as I am.”
Jareth’s snort was more amused than anything else. “We’ll soon see, won’t we?” His attention shifted to the whole group. “Prepare for the sprint.”
As the Metamorph mentor walked away, Dante whispered to me, “You shouldn’t antagonize him, Savi.”
“I’m not.”
Dante laughed.
“I’m not,” I insisted.
“If you annoy him too much, we will all suffer.”
“And? What’s the worst he can do? Make everyone do a whole lot of pushups?”
Dante’s eyebrows drew together. “Spoken like someone who’s never had to do a whole lot of pushups.”
“I’ve done my fair share of them,” I countered. “Training for the Choosing wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns, you know.”
“I know. But training under Jareth is more like tempests and dragon fire.”
“He’ll respect me more when I beat his whole team.”
“That would sound far more threatening if you’d actually managed to morph.”
I waved my hand, brushing off his comment. “Morphing isn’t all there is to being a Metamorph.”
“I hate to break it to you, Savannah. But in the Metamorph Tribe, morphing is pretty much everything.”
“There are other things,” I argued. “Strength and speed. And other physical skills like breathing under water or seeing in the dark.”
“All of which are accomplished by morphing some or all of your body.”
I knew he had a point, but admitting it would have been surrendering before the fight had even begun. I just couldn’t do that.
“Ready!” Jareth bellowed out.
Everyone got into position.
Jareth blew his whistle, and all the Apprentices kicked off from the start line, sprinting toward the next line painted in the grass.
I tried to keep up, but the other Apprentices were really fast, especially Dante and Rhett.
Like supernaturally fast. No matter how much I pushed myself, I just couldn’t match their speed. They were always ahead of me.
Rhett was so ahead of me that he was already running back to the start line. His gaze met mine, and his lips spread into a huge grin.
I knew exactly what he was about to do, but I wasn’t fast enough to get out of the way. He was so quick that my heart barely had time to jump in fright.
Rhett changed directions and charged at me like a bull. If he hit me at that speed, he’d knock me out—and maybe knock out a few of my teeth too.
Our bodies collided. But instead of falling over, strength surged through me. I grabbed him, flipping us around so that when we fell, he was the one who hit the ground. His body cushioned my fall.
I jumped up immediately, adrenaline pumping through me. “What do you think you were doing?!” I shouted down at him.
My anger deflated the moment I realized Rhett wasn’t getting up. In fact, he wasn’t moving at all.