All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [70]
“Mind your own business, Tamara,” Sarah told her. “We’ll see who’ll be losing soon enough.”
“What do you expect?” one of the White Knight boys with a shaven head remarked. “They have an Infernal on their team. They’ve got to be disorganized.”
Jezebel turned to see who had said this, but her expression didn’t change, nor did she say a thing.
Somehow this scared Eliot more than if she had threatened him with hellfire.
“Hey!” Robert yelled back. “You’re going to sound pretty funny with a mouthful of fist, buddy.”
“Bring it,” the boy said, taking a step forward.
Mitch set a hand on Robert’s arm. “Save it for class,” he advised.
The air stilled and Eliot felt something. Felt, however, wasn’t quiet right, because this was just an itch below his threshold of conscious detection . . . a whispered warning that danger was near.
He, Fiona, and Jezebel turned.
A man walked onto the field. He held a clipboard and stopwatch. He wore black sweats with the Paxington crest. He moved with strength, confidence, and grace. He was darkly tanned and trim and very old. Deep laugh lines and wrinkles made a spiderweb of his face. His hair was white, thick, and gathered into a long tail.
Eliot felt the weight of the Ages on this old man. As if he’d seen everything and that nothing Eliot could do would ever impress him.
“I am Mr. Benjamin Ma,” the old man said. “You shall call me Mr. Ma or simply Coach.” He didn’t speak loud, but his voice was commanding. “I shall review the rules. Team Scarab and White Knight will then mount the course for their first match of the year.”
A lump of ice materialized in Eliot’s stomach. A match on their first day? He’d expected a warm-up.
“That’s not fair,” Mitch told Mr. Ma. “No one told us. We’re not ready.”
Some of the students on Team White Knight snickered.
Mr. Ma looked Mitch over, and then replied, “That is too bad, young man. In life we often find ourselves unprepared. How you perform in such circumstances is the only true test of one’s abilities.”
Mitch looked like he wanted to protest more, but he only nodded.
“Rule one,” Mr. Ma told both groups. “Half of your team members must get to their flag to win. These four must be moving under their own power.”
He nodded at the jungle gym. On the very top, two flags unfurled and fluttered, one with a golden scarab, the other with the helmet and lance of White Knight.
They were at least forty feet off the ground.
“Rule two,” Mr. Ma said. “You have ten minutes to reach your flag. If neither team gets four members to their flag, then both teams record a loss. If both teams get four across, then the team with the lowest time wins.”
Eliot knew that winning meant more than just bragging rights. The lowest-ranked teams were cut, and didn’t go on to their sophomore year.
“Rule three,” Mr. Ma continued. “You may use any means to cross the course. You may use any means to prevent your opponents from doing the same. Magic is allowed, but no weapons, specifically no guns, no blades, and no explosives.” His black eyes bored into them. “If I find such contraband, I shall use it on the offender.”
Eliot was sure he wasn’t kidding.
“Questions?” Mr. Ma asked.
“I have a question, sir,” Eliot said. He shifted his backpack and unzipped it.
He was the only student who’d brought a pack. He’d had to. At first he’d left Lady Dawn in his locker, but that felt wrong, and when he tried to walk away, his hand burned with pain and the old line of infection reappeared up to his elbow.
Eliot pulled out the battered violin case and opened it for Mr. Ma. “Is this a weapon?”
Jeremy and Sarah rolled their eyes.
The people on Team Knight laughed. “Going to play ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?” one of them asked.
Mr. Ma reached to touch the wood grain, but hesitated.
“Powerful.” He assessed Eliot with a look that made him feel like all his secrets were being turned inside out. “But not a weapon, technically, in my class, Mr. Post. She is