“You won the Wizenstone?” Seth asked.
“I broke a long-standing curse,” Merek said. “I won a chance to learn the true Game. I came here to claim that opportunity.”
“What is the true Game?” Seth asked.
“It’s the surest way to the Wizenstone,” Merek said. “I never found it. To obtain that knowledge, I had to unlock a door, and it cost me my memories. That loss sent me down an alternate path. The senior staff acted like I had elected out of active participation on the floor to become a trainer. Seth, I had no reason to believe otherwise. The more I learned about the Games, the better the story fit. I was Fenrick—a seasoned trainer who could not recall his past.”
“But you remember your past now?” Seth asked.
Merek nodded thoughtfully. “I have lived my life in many stages and accomplished deeds you could scarcely imagine. My identity has gone out of focus on other occasions—part of the price of immortality.”
“You’re immortal?” Seth asked.
“Almost,” Merek said. “My father was known as the Legender, and for centuries, I have served in times of need as one of the legendary Dragon Slayers.”
You kill dragons?” Seth asked.
“Do you know the story of the Legender?” Merek asked.
Seth shrugged. “Maybe I did once. I lost my memories.”
“Five legendary Dragon Slayers helped win the dragon war,” Merek said. “I am one of them.”
“Doesn’t every dragon sanctuary have a Dragon Slayer?” Seth asked.
“Anyone who has killed a dragon is a Dragon Slayer,” Merek said. “Every sanctuary has a resident Dragon Slayer to assist in emergencies. Apart from all the rest, there are five legendary Dragon Slayers, so-called because that group includes the Legender and his four children. I hoped to win the Wizenstone to better protect the world, and to keep it out of evil hands.”
“Just be careful picking it up,” Seth said. “I saw two guys try, and they got vaporized.”
“You’ve seen it?” Merek asked.
“My sister used magic to send it away,” Seth said. “That choice broke the curse at Stormguard Castle.”
“And now you’re here,” Merek said.
“Hunting for my memories,” Seth said. “You’ve really slain dragons?”
Merek gave a little chuckle. “You have no idea. Unless . . . confession time—did you have any inkling about my true identity?”
“I still don’t,” Seth said. “I lost my memories by opening a door as well. Or so I’m told.”
“At Stormguard Castle,” Merek said. “Seth, among all of my memories, I also remember traveling with you as Reggie. I believe in your sincerity. Do you wish to join me in the quest for the Wizenstone?”
“If it might help me find my memories,” Seth said.
“At the very least, it should lead us to Humbuggle,” Merek said. “Wait here for a moment?”
“Sure.”
Merek went into the other room. Seth picked up the short sword the Dragon Slayer had dropped and practiced swinging it. The weight felt good in his hand.
“Keep that, if you like,” Merek said, returning to the room as he buckled a sword at his waist. The stake he had held was in a sheath on the other side of the belt. He had put on some leather armor. “Change of plans. I’m not watching fights today. Or ever again.”
“You can just walk away?” Seth asked.
“I never intended to be a trainer here,” Merek said. “I didn’t vow to be a combatant in these games. I could have walked away at any time. I just never realized I could.”
“Do all of those memories feel like an overload?” Seth asked.
“Yes!” Merek said. “It’s simply too much to absorb. And such a spectrum, triumph and failure, joy and misery. The more recent recollections are freshest. Including you convincing me to make dirt my physical vehicle. I remember Hermo, Virgil, and Calvin. And the latest rounds of training here at the coliseum. Together with my long history, it all fused into one. I’ll be trying to catch up to what I know as the days pass.”
“Where are we going?” Seth asked.
“Back where I intended to go when I first arrived,” Merek said. “To learn the most direct path to the Wizenstone. The secret Game, hidden among the others.”
“I can come?” Seth asked.
“You have done me a great service,” Merek said. “I mean to return the favor. You’re welcome to join me, shadow charmer.”
“Thanks, Merek.”
“For now, call me Fenrick.” He winked.
Seth followed Merek down halls and across common areas. They skirted the edge of a spacious room where gladiators skirmished with practice gear under the critical gazes of their trainers. Merek wore a stern expression, and nobody approached them.
Merek paused at the top of a stairway illuminated by an occasional white crystal. “I never descended these stairs because I did not believe I could. But now I remember experiences down there. I could have returned again at my leisure.”
He started down, and Seth followed. “A guard warned me to stay in the common areas this time,” Seth said.
“You have a right to come down here, or they would stop you,” Merek said. “Shed all doubts. Our mission is ahead of us.”
At the bottom of the stairs, the passage forward had an arched ceiling and was composed of small, ill-fitted stones, giving all surfaces but the floor a rough-hewn jaggedness. The air was chilly, and their footfalls seemed magnified. Seth engaged his senses but perceived no undead.
Merek stopped before a bare stretch of wall, hands on his hips. “I remember this place. Seth, this is not a real wall.”
Seth reached out and touched the rough stone surface. He knocked his knuckles against the cool, solid barrier. “Feels real to me.”
“This wall is there only if we believe it is there,” Merek said.
“No way,” Seth said.
“It is basically impossible for two people to pass it at once,” Merek said. “If you think it is there, the wall will be present for me as well. If I believe it is there, it
