Ethan crouched behind thick brush, studying Aldric's positioning through gaps in the leaves. Four shapes moved between fallen logs and moss-covered rocks, setting their trap where the main trail squeezed between steep slopes–a perfect kill zone for anyone foolish enough to follow the obvious path.
"They're blocking the direct route," Lydia whispered beside him. "We could circle wide and avoid them entirely."
"No." Ethan traced sight lines in the dirt with his finger. "Look at their positions: Aldric there, his mage behind that boulder, the archer on the ridge, and the fourth man covering their flank." He marked each position with small stones. "It's a classic ambush formation, but they've left themselves exposed from above."
Marcus adjusted his spectacles nervously. "You want to fight them? They have real weapons."
Ethan had noticed the steel blades glinting in the filtered sunlight. Academy rules mandated practice weapons during trials, but someone had clearly bent those rules.
"Ambushes work both ways," he muttered, studying the terrain. A deer path wound up the slope behind Aldric's position, hidden by a thick canopy. "We take the high ground."
Finn looked confused. "How do you know all this military stuff?"
"Village militia drills," Ethan lied smoothly, masking the truth. "Every town has them."
He sketched their new route in the dirt. The curved path would take them twenty minutes longer but would position them perfectly above the ambush site.
"Marcus, can you muffle sound? Make us harder to track?"
The young mage nodded eagerly. "I can use a light-bending charm too. It won't make us invisible, but it will help us blend into the shadows."
"Do it. Finn, wrap anything that might rattle." Ethan handed him cloth strips torn from his spare shirt. "Lydia, you're fastest. You take their rear position when I give the signal."
Her green eyes sharpened with understanding. "What about their mage?"
"Leave him to Marcus. Mage versus mage seems fair."
They began their careful ascent through dense undergrowth. Marcus's charm muffled their footsteps, and shadows seemed to cling to their forms. After twenty minutes of slow, precise movement brought them to a rocky outcrop directly above Aldric's trap.
Ethan studied the layout below. Aldric crouched behind a massive fallen oak, his steel sword poised for an attack. The archer held position on a small ridge, arrow nocked but not drawn. Their mage waited behind a boulder, hands glowing with prepared spells. The fourth member–a stocky boy Ethan didn't recognize–covered their left flank.
"Remember," Ethan whispered, "we're not trying to kill anyone. Just disable and move on."
The tension hung in the air as shadows lengthened with the fading afternoon light. Suddenly, footsteps echoed along the main trail–another team approaching the ambush zone.
Aldric tensed, raising his blade. His archer drew back his bowstring.
"Now," Ethan breathed.
Lydia dropped silently from the rocks, landing behind their mage like a shadow given form. Her twin daggers pressed against his throat before he could react.
Marcus launched a brilliant flare directly at their archer, who stumbled backward, temporarily blinded.
Ethan and Finn charged down the slope together. The stock boy turned toward them, raising his sword, but Finn tackled him with farm-bred strength, sending both crashing into the underbrush.
Aldric spun to face this new threat, his ambush ruined. Steel gleamed in his hand as he advanced on Ethan with clear intent to kill.
"Should have stayed in your forge, peasant," Aldric snarled, swinging his blade in a vicious arc aimed at Ethan's neck.
Ethan ducked under the strike and drove his shoulder into Aldric's chest, sending the noble crashing backward over the fallen log. Before Aldric could recover, Ethan's boot came down hard on his wrist. Bones cracked, and the steel blade tumbled into the mud.
"That was a real sword," Ethan said quietly, picking up Aldric's weapon. The edge was sharp enough to cut flesh, unlike the blunted practice weapons they were supposed to carry. "Academy rules say training weapons only."
Aldric clutched his broken wrist, his face twisted with pain and rage. "Rules are for commoners."
"Apparently not." Ethan snapped the steel blade across his knee, leaving Aldric with a useless hilt. "Try explaining that to Master Donovan."
The other team–three nervous-looking candidates from the northern villages–had stopped at the edge of the clearing, unsure whether to flee or watch.
"Path's clear," Ethan called to the others. "Watch out for the broken weapons."
As Team Seven regrouped, Lydia released the enemy mage with a whispered warning to keep quiet. Marcus helped their blinded archer clean his eyes while Finn extracted himself from his wrestling match, both boys muddy but uninjured.
"This wasn't part of the trial," Lydia said as they walked away, leaving Aldric's team humiliated in the dirt.
Ethan glanced back once. "No. That was a message."
Lightning Tree stood another mile southeast–a massive pine split by ancient lightning but still alive, its blackened trunk twisted into impossible spirals. Marcus activated their second checkpoint flare, blue sparks rising high above the canopy.
As they approached their final destination, Ethan felt his team's confidence solidifying. No weak links remained. They had faced real danger together and emerged stronger.
But questions nagged at him. Who had authorized real weapons? Why target his team specifically? And why did Lydia's fighting skills match her noble bearing, despite her commoner clothes?
The forest held too many secrets, and the Academy's games grew more dangerous with each test.