Large trolls and minotaurs provided security at the entrances. Seth held his token ready. Up at the front of the line, he saw a minotaur pick up a goblin, haul him away from the building, and fling him onto the lawn.
“Some attendees try to beg their way inside,” Virgil said. “Making it more confusing, sometimes they succeed. The guards have a few entrance tokens to give out at their discretion.”
A trio of centaurs got in line behind Seth. They crowded too close for his liking, raucously boasting about how the statue of the centaur was clearly about to slaughter the minotaur. The group smelled strongly of sweat and horses.
Most attendees ahead of Seth had tokens and handed them over routinely. The line moved slowly but steadily. Just before Seth and Virgil reached the gate, a dark-haired man fell to his knees before one of the troll guards.
“Please, mighty Dronis, grant me leave to pass,” the man pleaded. He bent forward and began peppering the guard’s bare feet with kisses.
“Why should I let you enter without a token?” the troll asked. “What message does it send to those who earned the right to enter?”
“My money is spent,” the man lamented. “I’m living in alleys, eating scraps. I missed catching a rabbit, failed at a challenge, and found no favor to accomplish.” He kissed the feet some more.
“I like that you know your place,” the troll said, flexing one of his feet. “But you have entered this way before.” The troll turned to those waiting to enter. “What says the line?”
“Off with him,” one of the centaurs cried.
“Don’t reward him for slowing us down,” another centaur bellowed.
The troll nodded at a nearby minotaur. “You heard the consensus,” the troll said.
The minotaur grabbed the man by the ankles, dragged him away from the entrance, then swung him into the air, sending him flying onto the lawn. The man scrambled to his feet and darted away. Seth wondered if he might go try a different entrance.
“Token,” a minotaur demanded, thrusting a hand out to Virgil as he reached the front. The satyr tossed it to him, and the minotaur waved him through.
Seth held out his token to the troll the man had kissed, but the guard refused to accept it. “Players don’t pay.”
“What?” Seth asked.
“In you go,” the troll said, looking beyond him. “Next.”
Seth caught up to Virgil and held up his token. The satyr looked excited. “You got in free! That must mean you’re considered an active participant in the Games!”
Seth stopped advancing. “What do you mean? Will they try to make me fight?”
Virgil laughed. “Normally, fighting is the only way to get in as a contestant. But your involvement with Humbuggle at Stormguard Castle must have marked you as an active player. I’ve never met anyone who played any of his other Games. They usually die.”
“How am I marked?” Seth asked.
“I’ve researched this,” Virgil said. “Remember, Humbuggle controls this domain. Those who work for him see an aura around active participants. You automatically carry identification wherever you go. My contacts wouldn’t share exactly how it looks because they don’t want anyone trying to counterfeit it.”
“Out of the way,” a centaur demanded. Seth and Virgil moved over against the wall, and several centaurs clopped by.
“But the game I played is over,” Seth said.
“Is it?” Virgil asked. “What was the prize?”
“The Wizenstone,” Seth said.
“Did somebody win the Wizenstone?” Virgil asked.
“Not exactly,” Seth said.
Virgil pointed at him. “Then that game isn’t over, whether you knew it or not. This validates one of my main theories: the Games are a collection of contests that reach beyond any individual competition.” He clapped Seth on the back. “You’re my best evidence yet. Come on.”
The stone hallway stretched ahead of them well beyond where the building should have ended. In the distance, sunlight was visible through a coral archway.
“This place is bigger inside than it looks from outside,” Seth said.
“Let’s not dally,” Virgil said.
Seth and Virgil hurried forward, exiting onto a broad patio in front of a tremendous coliseum. Turning in a full circle, Seth absorbed the improbable view. They stood atop a mesa overlooking the ocean on all sides. Extensive walkways, patios, and rose gardens surrounded the limestone coliseum.
“Where are we?” Seth asked.
“Definitely not underground,” the satyr replied.
“Where is Humburgh?”
“Welcome to the Arena,” Virgil said, spreading his arms proudly. “There are several pocket dimensions within Humburgh. This is the largest I know about.”
Shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand, Seth looked out over the beach and the crashing waves, off to where the swells looked like wrinkles before flattening into a horizon line. “How far does the ocean go?”
“I haven’t explored it myself,” Virgil said. “Some claim you reach a point where you inexplicably start heading back to shore.”
“It’s part illusion,” Seth said.
“Probably,” Virgil said. “Or else magical barriers protect what lies beyond. Maybe with the help of distracter spells.”
“Ocean in all directions,” Seth said. “All inside the Arena Plaza.”
“Essentially, yes,” Virgil said. “Remember, it’s a pocket dimension. Come on. The first event starts soon.”
Seth followed Virgil to one of the coliseum entrances, trying not to despair over how powerful Humbuggle must be if he could create such a grand arena on his own private island. A gray minotaur standing in front of a golden gate directed visitors toward the stairs. His nostrils flared as Seth and Virgil approached, and the minotaur opened the golden gate and stepped aside.
“For us?” Seth asked.
“For you,” the minotaur replied. “The satyr can join you if he is your guest.”
“Yes,” Seth said.
The minotaur dipped his horns in acknowledgment.
Seth and Virgil passed through the gate and walked out into the brightness of the lower bowl of the coliseum. They paused at the top of a long stairway leading down to the arena floor. Above them, rows of stone benches extended three times higher than where they stood. Below, individual seats offered closer views of the action.
“I should have realized you would have access to this section,” Virgil said. “Usually
