Ember and Lance were the last to arrive at Ophelia’s camp on the third night of the exam, having taken longer than expected to find their way back from where they’d stopped to rest after the fight. They crossed the threshold fifteen minutes after sundown, sweat speckling their foreheads and their limbs dragging with exhaustion. As she walked through the camp, careful to conceal her injuries from the other participants, Ember found that all six of the other students were accounted for: Jisu, Lance, Daniel, Craig, and Gunther’s team of two.
When they had almost reached the oak around which they’d spent the last several nights, Ember became aware of the sound of padding footsteps trailing in her wake. She turned to see an anxious-looking Daniel, who held up his hands as if in surrender. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him when she had defended him against Gunther’s team, but other than his frayed nerves, the Fowler’s toad looked healthy—arguably better than herself, in fact. He had lost none of the weight around his belly, and he seemed uninjured other than a smattering of bruises from where he’d fallen on his knees.
“Is everything all right?” Lance asked, and after stuttering an intelligible reply, Daniel thrust a leaf-wrapped bundle into Ember’s hands.
She tugged the package open by the corner. Resting on the inner leaflet was a sizable helping of crispy insects: grasshoppers, mealworms, and what she thought might be termites. She raised an eyebrow. “Daniel, what’s this?”
“T-they’re for you,” he explained, fiddling with his hands. “I f-found them t-today, and c-cooked them before you came. As a thank you.”
Ember looked down at the bugs, and then back at the amphibian. What the hell, she thought, popping one of the termites into her mouth. Morgan likes them.
The taste wasn’t altogether pleasant: dirt-like, with a persistent texture that coated her molars. Daniel looked so hopeful, though, that she found herself swallowing with a forced smile. “Mhm! Very… vegetal.” Next to her, Lance stifled a laugh.
“Do you want to stay with us, tonight, Daniel?” Ember asked, redirecting the conversation. “Perhaps Lance would like to try some bugs?”
“Really?!” the toad exclaimed.
“Why not?”
Still looking nervous, he followed on Ember and Lance’s heels as they rounded their sleeping spot. Ember was surprised to see Jisu propped up against the trunk on the lowest branch, her jaw purpling and her left leg hanging stiffly over the edge.
“What happened to you?” Ember asked. A flash of what might have been embarrassment flashed across Jisu’s face, but she schooled her expression and shrugged.
Ember ran a quick mental checklist of the day’s events: the only person to drop out was the mammal that she had fought, she and Lance had occupied Gunther’s team, and Daniel was still in the game. “Wait… you tried to fight Craig, didn’t you?” she asked, unable to hide the mirth from her voice.
Jisu’s face pinched as if she’d tasted something sour. “Maybe.”
“It took three of us to beat him during capture the flag, and that was temporary. You’re damn lucky he didn’t take your flare.”
Muttering something that might have been ‘whatever,’ Jisu flipped on her branch to face away from Ember in sullen silence.
Shaking her head, Ember turned her attention to her and Lance’s wounds. The roll of bandages that had been gifted to her was dwindling, and she understood the importance of keeping wounds clean to prevent infection. Though some of her peers could use herbs, all she knew of herbology was from Professor Hickory’s class, which had rarely focused on medicine—so, realistically, she and Lance had one or two days left in the competition before they would have to seek medical attention.
It was already dark, and the clouded sky blocked the light of the stars. “Let’s try to rest now,” she suggested.
“I’ll take the first watch,” Lance offered, and she could see from his expression that he couldn’t be persuaded out of it. She sighed, sliding into her sleeping bag as best she could with the pain in her ribs, forced herself to nibble on a few more insects, and then fell into a fitful sleep.
***
On the morning of the fourth day, Ember was awoken not by the blast of Ophelia’s horn, but by the sound of groaning and retching. It was a terrible, painful sound, like turning one’s guts inside out. She was immediately alert, reminded of the long nights she had spent assisting in the care of ill patients in Ciradyl’s infirmary; patients who had died more often than not, unable to keep down more fluids than they lost.
She rose to her feet in an instant, sucking in an uneven breath as she awakened the pain along her side. Daniel, who had been half-asleep on watch, looked up at her with worry. “Jisu!” she hissed, knowing the cat would be the fastest.
Her green eyes snapped open. “What is it?”
“Get Ophelia and the medic.” Without question, the panther jumped from her branch and ran toward camp, only slightly hindered by her injured leg.
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“I’ll stay with Lance for now?” Daniel asked, and she agreed; the ermine was still sleeping, and she didn’t want to wake the entire camp unless it was strictly necessary.
It didn’t take long for her to follow the sounds to their source, and the scene was an ugly one even in the darkness. Craig was on his hands and knees in a nest of pine needles, upending the scant contents of his stomach. She ran to his side, swallowing down her own nausea and pointedly not looking at what was happening at the other end of his body.
“Ophelia is coming,” she reassured him, helping to support his weight as he leaned forward to throw up again.
Jisu appeared only a minute later with the fireworm and medic in tow. Their lanterns threw light onto the elephant’s pallid face and the pile of green bile beneath him. “What’s happened?” Ophelia demanded.
“I don’t know. I heard him from my camp.”
The medic crouched, scrutinizing the elephant’s face. “There’s a rash on his lips,” he said, sounding queasy himself. “He’s eaten something contaminated.”
Ophelia touched Craig’s back, and Ember saw the panic underneath her mask of calm. “How serious?”
The medic shook his head. “I need to take him to the infirmary now. But without knowing exactly what he’s eaten, it’s going to be very difficult to treat.”
The fireworm nodded, pausing to think for only a moment. “Jisu, go get the guard to help transport Craig. Ember, you and I need to search the camp.”
As the instructor turned to Craig’s sleeping bag, Ember rooted around beneath the tree he’d slept under, finding his canteen half-hidden by fallen leaves. It was nearly empty, but she poured the rest of the water into the cap and sniffed it. It wasn’t overwhelming, but there was a bitterness to the smell that made her think it might not be water.
She passed the cap to the fireworm, who took a moment to examine it. “This has been mixed with something.”
“Mixed? Like poisoned?”
Ophelia’s dark look was enough of an answer. “Bring everyone here,” she ordered. “As fast as you can.”
Ember did as she was told. She roused Gunther first, who seemed ready to attack before she rushed through a hurried explanation, and then her friends. By the time she returned to Craig’s camp, a small crowd of TAs, eliminated students, and the remaining participants had gathered. The flickering lantern light illuminated the exhaustion on their faces, and the air was filled with anxious murmurs.
Behind the group, the medic and guard were situating Craig on the back of a draft animal, and Ember angled herself in front of the scene to protect his dignity.
Ophelia paced back in forth, her expression fierce. “I’ll get right to the point,” she said. “One of you put something in Craig’s water, and I need to know what it was right now. His life could be at stake.”
No one spoke, and the instructor gritted her teeth in frustration. For the first time, Ember thought about how young Ophelia was—she was an undoubtedly strong fighter, but only thirty at most, with much less leadership experience than Ember’s other professors.
As she wracked her brain for something to help, Ember’s mind flashed back to how the medic had first identified the poisoning: the rash around Gunther’s lips. “Professor,” she said, setting her jaw as all eyes turned to her, “their hands.”
Ophelia’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly as she grasped Ember’s meaning. “All students line up and hold out your hands!”
After Ember was checked (with hardly a cursory glance), she stood off to the side, watching the others. Ophelia poured over them swiftly until she reached the beetle, who seemed to be angling his hands into the shadows. She gripped them by the wrists, bringing them further into the light, and a gasp rose among the other students: a red, bubbly rash curled around his arms.
Ophelia lowered herself to his level, her eyes locking on his. “What did you use?” she demanded, power simmering underneath each syllable. Ember said a quick prayer that it wouldn’t be one of the worst poisons, like nightshade or hemlock.
“The r-root of the plant with the p-purple berries,” the beetle choked out, leaning as far away from her as possible. “I s-steeped it in w-water from the s-stream.”
“It’s pokeweed!” Ophelia yelled, and the medic’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Thank god. He should recover in two days with the right treatment.”
Ember exhaled, and she saw the relief on her friends’ faces. With a quick word to Ophelia, the medic and the guard led the draft animal away and through the city’s gates.
The fireworm watched them leave, and when she turned back toward the small crowd all of her attention was on the perpetrator. She pulled him a short distance away, questioning him with barely suppressed rage.
Jisu and Lance drew nearer to Ember, watching the exchange. Ember could see her own disgust mirrored on their faces—they may have had rivalries with Craig, but none of them wanted to see a great fighter reduced to such a state by foul play. “That could have been any of us if we didn’t have a watch,” she pointed out, her stomach lurching at the thought.
“It’s obvious Gunther put him up to it,” Jisu spat.
“But will the beetle give him up?” Lance asked, his mouth downturned with worry.
The question was answered when Ophelia returned, the beetle’s bicep still held firmly in her hand and tears shining in his eyes. “Here’s what’s going to happen now,” she said. “I’m going to go to the infirmary and make sure that Craig gets through the worst of this, but hopefully, I will be back by morning.”
The three friends exchanged a look. No mention of Gunther.
“Is the exam going to continue?” one of the graduate students asked, her tone implying that she thought the idea was ill-advised.
The fireworm raised her chin. “Yes.”
There was a collective intake of breath at her answer, but Ember wasn’t overly surprised—they were Linnaeans after all, and her classes at the university had always been dangerous. Ending the exam early would be admitting defeat; a failure for both Ophelia and her students.
“I am going to send another medic as soon as I reach the infirmary, though I sincerely hope none of you will be needing medical attention again,” Ophelia added, holding up a hand to make it clear that she would hear no arguments. “If I’m not back in time, the TAs will start the exam. There are only five of you now, so it will be more manageable. Good luck to you all, and I expect to see no more disappointments.” She nodded once, curtly, and started off toward the gate with the beetle still held closely.
There was a long minute of pregnant silence, until, finally, the insect TA found his voice. “I know it’s been a long night,” he said, his tone apologetic. “Why don’t you all get a couple more hours of sleep?”