Just then Gwen came sprinting into the clearing. In the split second it took Isobel to glance her way, the double to her right grabbed Isobel.
“Don’t cheerleaders belong on the sidelines?” he hissed in her ear before tossing her aside.
Hurrying to meet her, Gwen caught her before she could fall.
Well, Isobel thought, clinging to her friend as she steadied herself, at least now I know.
Or thought she knew.
No sooner did Isobel look back to the duplicates than they rejoined their scuffle. Again they clashed, and again she lost track of the imposter. “Which—?” Gwen asked between winded gasps for air.
“I don’t know!” Isobel exclaimed.
Long coats flapped as the two Varens swung in place until, with a well-timed shove, one Varen sent the other skidding away.
The thrown Varen, who managed to stay on his feet, crouched, his boots skating over ground that became something else beneath his sliding soles—a patch of marble. The smooth surface unfurled beneath its conjurer, rushing fast as brush fire to consume and replace the dust underneath them.
Curved stone walls rose from the circular perimeter of the new floor, sealing the four of them into a rounded, roofless room.
An arena, Isobel realized, an instant before tall, black, spiked iron gates shot up in front of her and Gwen, cutting them off from the fighting ring.
Armored stone angels materialized along the other side of the gates, each offering forth a range of different weapons. Wings unfurled and orb eyes open, the angels held the air of spectators, each again bearing Isobel’s likeness.
Grabbing the iron bars, Isobel pulled herself close to the gate.
“Varen!” she shouted to the duplicate who approached the carved sentinel closest to her. “You can stop this. You can make it all go away. You can—”
“What do you think I’m doing?” he asked without looking at her, taking a sword and dagger set from the angel with two quick scrapes of metal on stone.
Renewed terror jabbed Isobel’s gut when she saw the Varen on the opposite side of the arena draw a spear from the grip of another statue. Tightening her hold on the bars, she imagined the barrier disintegrating to dust.
But the cold, unwavering metal refused to comply with her silent command.
Varen’s mind was made up. His conviction that he would enter this match was too strong for her to dispel. And unlike when they had been in the courtyard of statues, there was no window of doubt that Isobel could infiltrate with her own dreams.
At least, not through her strength alone.
“Gwen,” Isobel said, pushing back from the bars to face her friend. “Listen, I know you don’t understand what’s happening, but I need your help. Please, we have to stop them.”
“How?” Gwen asked, her expression stricken with fear and shock.
“With your thoughts,” Isobel said. “Our thoughts together. They’re both holding all of this in place, but if we concentrate at the same time, we might be able to make the gates vanish. If I can get in there, Gwen, if I can get between them again, I can make them stop.”
Though Isobel could tell that her friend didn’t grasp everything she’d said, she was grateful to see Gwen give a stiff nod of solidarity.
Gwen approached the gates, her hands wrapping the bars. Isobel did the same.
Beyond the gates, the Varens rushed each other.
The sword slashed down. Snick came the sound of the blade clashing with the spear’s wooden shaft. Recoiling, Sword Varen swung again. Spear Varen ducked, then straightened. He sidestepped and leaned this way and that, evading the sword at every pass until, finally, its wielder landed the first strike.
Blood gushed from the spear bearer’s arm. The only color in this dull, grayscale world, it splashed vibrant and bright onto the marble.
Isobel gripped the bars harder, willing the iron to loosen.
“Think about the gate disappearing,” she told Gwen. “Picture the parts we’re holding dissolving away.”
In the corner of her vision, Isobel saw Gwen’s hands tighten, her knuckles paling to white. Yet the bars remained solid, and even though Isobel knew she’d be able to concentrate better if she closed her eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to shut out the fight.
Quick shuffles allowed Sword Varen to evade the repeated jabs of his enemy’s spear. Again and again, he crossed his two blades in front of him to deflect its pointed tip. But Spear Varen eluded the sword swipes with equal ease, his guard obviously raised after being clipped.
Clacks and clangs echoed through the arena as each Varen matched the other strike for strike.
