Chapter 3

It was spiders—hundreds and hundreds of spiders. They must have been living in the roof and when they'd wandered into the smoke detector, they'd set it off.

Now that Nala had made them an escape hatch, they were streaming down from the ceiling, thousands of hairy legs entwined into a dark waterfall.

Jareth's sword flashed, then split into two swords. He rolled back his wrists, warming up his arms.

Nala summoned her spear. It broke free from the smoke detector and shot back into her hand.

Altair was holding a pair of those grenade-looking things in his hands.

Ainsley's sword morphed into the pair of purple clubs again; they were floating in front of her, spelled by some kind of telekinesis.

Eris flicked her sword, and it morphed into a staff. A mini whirlwind swirled up and down the long wooden shaft.

Orion's sword was an amulet now. When he looped it over his neck and clutched the long silver chain, his body started to shimmer with an eerie blue glow.

Meanwhile, I scrambled as far away from the spiders as I possibly could.

"Easy now. Don't let them get the upper hand," Eris said to the other Knights, gripping her staff tightly. It seemed both she and Orion had a spare WAND.

"Wait!" Kato shouted.

"Can't," Ainsley said tightly, out of the corner of her mouth. Her purple eyes were still locked on to the stream of spiders. "These beasts are a clear and present danger to this world. We are obliged to eliminate them."

Kato sighed. "They're just spiders, Ainsley. You know this sort of thing…" He indicated the mass of spiders. "…is pretty normal around here."

"This is normal?" I gaped at Kato.

He shrugged. "Australia has a lot of spiders."

"Deadly spiders." Ainsley wasn't taking her purple eyes off of those spiders.

"These guys aren't deadly," Kato told her. "They aren't even poisonous. They're pretty harmless."

Eris lowered her weapon. "He's right. They're not poisonous. It's all in the markings."

Kato opened a window, and the river of spiders happily escaped out of it. They must have realized that the Knights were about to exterminate them.

I wasn't sad to see them go.

"Everything ok?" Kato asked me.

When he closed the window, locking out the spiders, I could finally breathe again. "That was exciting." My pulse was pounding so hard, my chest was shaking.

He shrugged. "Believe it or not, this isn't the first time I've seen spiders explode out of a wall."

"That does not make me feel any better."

"You'll get used to the spiders." Jareth sheathed his blade. "Australia is weird." He patted me hard on the back. "Just like you."

He wasn't wrong.

Nala studied me with her gold eyes. "Kato was right about you. You don't panic easily."

If only she could hear my hammering heart.

"But Eris does panic. For shame! A Nymph scared of a few spiders!" Orion teased my mentor.

Eris hastily put her whirlwind away. "I'm not that kind of Nymph. I play with wind." A breeze swept through the room, trapping Orion against the wall. "Not animals."

The deep, echoing roar of a horn sounded from outside.

"The Tournament is about to begin. You should all get ready," Kato told the six Knights. He put on his helmet before he turned to me. "And you should get back to your friends."

"Right." I hurried toward the door, but stopped just before I got there. I turned to face the Knights and told them, "It was really nice to meet you all." Then I left the building.

As I jogged down the path, back toward the Oval, my mind dwelled on the six Knights. They were so much more human than anyone knew.

That's why Knights always wore helmets. To mask their emotions. Their expressions. Their humanity. The Government didn't want people to realize that the Knights of Gaia were so normal.

"You're back," Kylie greeted me with a smile when I squeezed in between her and Bronte at the fence. She looked around, scanning the Oval. "Where's your boyfriend?"

Blood rushed to my cheeks. "He is not my boyfriend. He's just?—"

"An admirer." Kylie winked at me.

I rolled my eyes. "You're being ridiculous."

She snickered.

Grand, orchestral music began to play over the loudspeakers set up all around the Oval. That was the signal for everyone to take their places because the Tournament was about to begin.

"Who's in the first match?" I asked Kylie.

She was holding one of the magazines Bronte had picked up earlier from the candy-cane-striped man. "The Tournament's first match is between Jareth Mars, a Metamorph Knight, and Ainsley Kane, an Elf Knight." Kylie looked up from the magazine. "I wonder who's going to win."

"The Metamorph, of course," Asher Bell said.

Our burly blond teammate had pushed his way to the front and was now standing directly to the right of Bronte. And Dutch was with him.

"The Metamorph will win," Asher said again. "The Metamorphs pretty much always win. They're the coolest Tribe."

The Metamorph Knights were shapeshifters. They could take on different forms. Some Metamorphs could mimic other people's appearances. Some could turn into animals. And some could even shift into nonliving things like mist or rocks. Metamorphs were really strong and fast too.

Asher wasn't alone in idolizing them. Many people thought the Metamorphs were the coolest Tribe. Every year at the Tournament, they had the most fans cheering for them. And this year was no exception. There were a lot of spectators here today holding little yellow flags in their hands. Yellow—or gold—was the official color of the Metamorph Knights.

"The coolest Tribe?" Bronte laughed. "Oh, give me a break."

"I see that you're rooting for the Elves." Asher rolled his eyes at the purple flag in her hand. "Shocker."

Bronte flipped her blonde braid over her shoulder. "Obviously, I'm rooting for the Elves. They are the coolest Tribe. They possess really strong mental powers. They can enchant people to do all kinds of things. They can even make someone run right into a wall."

"A Metamorph can do that too," Dutch argued. "By pushing them into the wall."

Bronte's pretty little nose scrunched up. "That approach lacks subtlety."

"And the Elves' approach lacks success. Don't you remember what happened in last year's Tournament? While the Elf was busy shouting some long-winded spell, the Metamorph tossed a big rock at her head, knocking her out before she could even finish her incantation."

"Yes, I remember." Bronte's lips drew into a tight line. "And that Metamorph was totally barbaric."

Dutch shrugged. "People come to the Tournament to see action, not to listen to a bunch of nonsense words."

Bronte shot him an icy glare. "Those are the words of a thug."

He flashed her a grin. "Guilty as charged."

"What Tribe are you rooting for this year?" I asked Kylie.

"I'm still deciding." Kylie flipped forward a few pages in her magazine.

"I bet she's going to cheer for the Nymphs," Bronte said.

Asher nodded. "Yeah. That fits."

"Why?" Kylie blinked at Asher. "How does it fit?"

"Because you're kind and harmonious, Kylie," Bronte told her. "Just like the Nymphs."

"Kind?" Dutch smirked. "And harmonious?" Laughter exploded out of his mouth, and Kylie cringed. "Yeah, that's the Nymphs. They're a bunch of happy hippy Knights whose greatest mission in life is to heal Mother Nature." He gave us a big eye roll. "What a great strategy for winning the Tournament."

"Just because the Nymphs are nice, that doesn't mean they're not powerful," Bronte snapped at him.

"Right," I chimed in. "Nymphs can charm animals and manipulate the forces of nature: water, fire, earth, air?—"

"In other words, they're lame," Dutch cut me off.

I hoped he had enough sense not to say that in front of our mentor.

"The Nymphs are not lame at all," Bronte argued. "After the way humanity has polluted and destroyed our world, I'd say the Nymphs' power to heal the planet is pretty important."

"Sure, the Nymphs are important," Dutch said. "But they're not cool. Or scary."

"I don't know about that," I countered. "If a Nymph struck you down with a bolt of lightning, that would be pretty cool. And you'd be pretty scared."

Dutch scowled at me.

"She's right, you know," Bronte told him.

Dutch's gaze shifted to Kylie, and she giggled nervously.

Then he and Asher exchanged eye rolls and muttered something about ‘annoying girls'.

"You know, I think I will cheer for the Nymphs today," Kylie decided and selected the green flag from her magazine's rainbow of choices.

Red for the Sorcerers. Orange for the Alchemists. Yellow for the Metamorphs. Green for the Nymphs. Blue for the Dreamweavers. And purple for the Elves.

"How about you, Savannah? What Tribe are you rooting for this year?" Kylie asked me.

"I'm still deciding."

The Alchemists brewed and crafted magical potions and items. All of the Knights depended on their creations, but the Alchemists themselves weren't ever in the spotlight. People called them the nerds of the supernatural order.

The Dreamweavers were masters of mind and matter and dreams. They could create dreams and separate their consciousness from their physical body. They had some pretty cool powers, but they could be a little detached from reality.

"Maybe the Sorcerers," I said, thinking of Nala and her intense gold gaze.

"The Sorcerers are powerful." Bronte's blue eyes went very wide. "So powerful that they break the laws of nature."

The Sorcerers controlled time and chaos and even life and death itself.

"They're freaks," Dutch chimed in, grinning at me. "Just your sort of people, Savannah."

I grabbed the red flag from my magazine.

"Oh, look!" Kylie exclaimed. "The Knights have arrived!"

Two Knights in full-body armor and elaborate helmets strode right past us on their way through the gate. One of the Knights wore purple armor; the other's armor was gold. The colors totally gave them away. I recognized them immediately as Ainsley and Jareth, even with their faces hidden under those helmets.

The two Knights glided gracefully to opposite sides of the Oval, then faced each other.

"Representing the Elf Knights is twenty-year-old Ainsley Kane!" a voice echoed through the loudspeakers.

A bunch of teens tossed purple flowers onto the field. The purple Knight took a very graceful, very royal bow.

"She wields the powers of sleep, vertigo, enchantment, and telekinesis," Kylie read from her magazine. "And agony."

"That means she can make you feel like you're in pain without even touching you," Bronte told Asher.

He yawned very loudly.

"And representing the Metamorph Knights is Jareth Mars!" the loudspeaker announced. "Jareth is only seventeen years old, but don't let his age fool you. He is as strong as a bull!"

Asher, Dutch, and nearly everyone else in the audience roared in appreciation as the enormous Knight in gold armor took a bow.

"He can't be only seventeen," Bronte said with big eyes. "Just look at the size of him."

Dutch smirked at her. "It's not too late to switch sides, Bronte."

Her eyes narrowed, and she gripped her purple flag firmly. "I don't switch sides," she bit out, her lips tight.

"Jareth's powers are supernatural strength and shifting into a really big bull that can break through nearly anything," Kylie read from the magazine.

Dutch grinned, obviously thrilled at the possibility of Jareth breaking things.

"Subtle," I commented.

"There's nothing subtle about were-bulls or people who like to watch them fight," Dutch said with glee.

I couldn't have agreed more.

"Let the first match begin!" the loudspeakers declared.