The dictated words were increasingly difficult, starting with “apple”, going up to “superfluous” and “intoxication”, by which time most of the contestants had given up. Only Millie and the cloaked guy continued to scribble effortlessly.
The trial ended with “perspicacity”. For a moment, Millie’s hand faltered. Then she wrote out the final word, put down her pencil and smiled.
‘We will now take in the sheets and check the given words for errors,’ Bob told the public, immediately taking the cloaked guy’s paper, then holding out his hand for Millie’s. She handed it in.
He threw a glance at it, and then stopped, raising his eyebrows. ‘What’s this?’
I folded my arms, feeling altogether faithless in a good ending of this trial.
‘What do you mean “what’s this”?’ said Millie defiantly. ‘It’s the game sheet.’
‘What the hell have you been writing?’ Bob asked. ‘Our judge can’t read this!’
There you had it, I thought. I noticed a thin smile gliding over the cloaked guy’s face.  
‘Well, none of the rules told me that I couldn’t use another script,’ Millie said stubbornly. ‘If it wasn’t allowed, you should have said so.’
Bob looked flabbergasted. The public watched us curiously.
After a while of staring and thinking so hard I could almost hear the dusty radars in his brain turning, he said: ‘You’re right. I suppose we can’t disqualify it.’ He scratched his head.
Millie beamed at me, but I wasn’t so sure that this solved the problem.
Apparently, Bob seemed to think the same thing, because he said: ‘That still leaves the problem of our judge, missy. What he can’t read, he can’t check.’
‘Then I will spell it out loud for your judge,’ she replied. ‘It shouldn’t be a problem, right?’
‘No,’ Bob said, still scratching his head. ‘I guess not.’

The judge -an elderly man with a large nose that reminded me of a hawk’s bill - checked the writing. He declared zero mistakes in the cloaked guy’s entry, which roused my suspicions even further. What person in these rural areas would so young have completed a literary education? Or any education at all, for that matter?
Millie had to spell each word aloud (a-pee-pee-el-ee, pee-ee-ar-es-pee-ai-cee-a-cee-ai-tee-why), but after that the judge declared her faultless as well. The spectators applauded loudly. I threw a victorious grin at the hooded guy, who pretended not to have seen it.
So far, we had made it across half of the third round. Second half would be mine once more, so I sat down with my legs crossed. The contestants that had failed or given up spelling returned, hoping to collect a few more points by adding up sums.
I did only moderately well, not extremely skillful when it came to exceeding the basic adding that I was familiar with (one sheep in the flock, two sheep in the flock, three sheep in the flock, four in the flock - hey, where’s the fifth?).
And yet, when the third stage ended, me and the cloaked guy where the only ones left competing.  I knew this was due to Millie’s spelling capacities, however, not thanks to my amazing mathematical accomplishments. This mysterious and thoroughly annoying hooded man, however, seemed a prodigy.
And so, we entered the fourth and final stage of the tournament. Millie’s sword was closer than ever - and so was the bag of money.


Stage 4 - Courage: in which I’m playing with fire (and probably will come to regret it)

Quick mental note list:
· a spade
· five toilet paper rolls
· a fake sword so as to trick anyone into believing it is the real one(therefore not having to compete in life risking games to win the actual sword back)
· litres of lemonade to secretly switch with beer
· never stray off the path. Just don’t.
· vote for a better spread of education throughout the country. Vote for the instalment of fair elections first. Never mind.
· Fire-proof clothes and fire-resistant attitude


I was shocked when we entered the valley where, previously, we had lined up before going into the forest. My first thought was that a forest fire had broken out, and why no one was doing anything about it.
Then, as we drew closer, I realised that the burning was actually being contained. They were like walls of flames, allowing tunnels in between, creating a labyrinth.
I had the uncomfortable feeling that I knew what lay ahead. My sensibility started to protest.
‘They can’t be serious,’ I said shrilly, giving ear to the screaming, jumping voice of reason.  ‘I’m not going in there!’
‘Then I’m afraid you lack daring,’ the cloaked guy told me softly. He had appeared behind us, making me jump. ‘Don’t quit on me now; I need you to win that first prize for me.’
‘I am not going to be your pawn!’ I barked at him, pointing a finger. ‘In fact, I’m going to Bob right now and tell him I give up. That way, you’ll automatically become winner and we get the sword.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Bob?’
‘Err - I mean, the organizer of this tournament.’ I blushed, despite myself.
‘Oh, I see.’ He folded his arms meaningfully. ‘And what say you if I ran up to him first, telling him the same? That way you become winner and I’ll get the sword.’
‘That’s not fair!’ Millie cried.
‘I know, but it works fairly well. So,’ he turned to me again, ‘You and I compete again.’
‘Bugger off,’ I told him. ‘I’m not going to get myself toasted. You can do the honours this time.’
‘You’re a coward,’ he said, sounding amused. Fast as lighting he grabbed my by one arm, pulling me away from Millie and approaching the fire. As we drew close, the public began to cheer so loudly that my shouts of protests were drowned. Trying to wiggle my arm lose hurt: though he was delicately built, his grasp was unreasonably strong.

‘AND HERE ARE OUR TWO LAST, FINE CONTESTANTS,’ Bob roared, in an attempt to be heard over the cheers and the roars.

‘Why do you want this?’ I hissed at the guy.

‘…SHOWING GREAT BRAVERY BY ENTERING THIS MAZE OF FIRE…’

He still clutched my arm, preventing me from turning my back on him. ‘I like to play.’

‘…AND REACHING THIS DESIRED BAG FIRST, WILL THUS WIN OUR ANNUAL DEVILSWOOD TOURNAMENT…’

‘That’s sick,’ I spat at him. ‘You’re evil!’
‘Do you regret saving my life?’ he asked lightly.
‘If I get hurt just a little bit in there, I will!’
Bob turned to us. ‘Contestants! Please stand ready…On my word…three, two, one - GO!’
He released me and we both went forward, entering the maze. I felt the scorching heat of the flames on my face, my arms - everywhere. It petrified me. I felt like a bunny, trapped in a rabbit hole of fire. What must I do if the fire spread, cutting me off? There was no way that I could get myself through a wall of rising flames safely. I’d surely die if that were to happen.
With teary eyes from the smoke and heat, I staggered and stumbled my way through the smoky corridors as fast as I dared, keeping my arms close to my body, trying, on the overall, to become as thin and tiny as possible.

Left and right the maze led me, forward and back again. The flames made a roaring sort of sound, as if they were actually alive and hunting for us. I had no idea how the people of the tournament had made sure that the walls would not spread. Whatever they had done seemed to work so far, but that didn’t make me feel much better.

As time passed, I started to panic. Every corner I turned, every corridor that was a dead end, became hostile thing - flames reaching out for me, trying to wrap themselves around my arms and legs, wanting me to trip and fall into them.
I became hasty and rash as I dashed from corridor to corridor. I no longer cared for sword or money; I just wanted to get out of here as fast as I could.
Growing more desperate every second, visions of myself burning in the flames, drifted before my eyes. I started to cry, blurring my vision even more.
I stumbled.
I fell.
My hands landed just before the fire’s edge. The heat was searing. I gave a loud cry, fear and anger running through me at the same time. Then I pushed myself up and ran, blindly, in another direction.

Something forced me to come to an abrupt halt then. I had banged into the cloaked guy. I felt a rush of relief and I clung to his arm, my dignity completely forgotten.
He just looked at me. Maybe he was shocked by my condition, because he didn’t say anything scorning.
‘Get me out of here,’ I pleaded with him, my voice shaking and unusually high. ‘Please, just help me to get out of this.’
His eyes took in the surroundings; gliding over the blazing walls closing us in, past me to the end of a corridor, then back to my face. He nodded.
He took my arm, though not as forcefully as the last time, and I meekly followed his steps, like a sheep follows the shepherd. I couldn’t think. The heat was too penetrating, I was too scared.
Suddenly the area widened. The flames retreated to the background and it felt like we entered a spacious hall in the middle of a building. In the centre stood a stone pedestal, the bag of gold placed upon it, invitingly close by.
We both stared at it, then awkwardly glanced at each other. I momentarily forgot about my fright and the flames. Suddenly I really wanted that money for myself. I mean, I suppose it was a reasonably thought, after all I had been through just for the sake of Millie’s stupid old sword. And now I was here, with just one rival to win from, the prize only a few quick running steps away from me.
‘I see we have reached a problem,’ the guy said, releasing my arm.
‘What?’ I said, returning to my senses. ‘Oh. Yeah.’
‘Would you say we take a run for it - whoever reaches there first, loses?’
I tried to think of Millie’s response if I emerged with the money. ‘She’ll be so disappointed… It’ll be annoying.’
‘Your friend?’
I shook my head defiantly. ‘No, I’m just the sidekick. Fixing her dirty work.’
‘If that is so, why don’t you take it?’ he asked me velvety. ‘The money, it’s there for the grabbing.’
‘You know, I think you’re right. I should take it.’
I walked forward, hovering my hand over the bag. ‘But then again…you forced me into this frigging maze. I shouldn’t let you get what you want.’
His face changed from a silky smile to an annoyed stare. ‘Well, let the money make up for your inconveniences, miss,’ he snapped.
‘You know, it surprises me that you’re not interested in this yourself,’ I retorted, narrowing my eyes at him. ‘After all, anyone from these regions is dying for a little extra support. Princess Merope’s financial policy isn’t exactly roses and moonshine, after all.’
His expression distorted as if I had just given him a slap in the face. He paced forward, biting ‘just take the fucking thing, girl!’ when I lowered my hand to pick up the bag from its pedestal. It was at the same time that our fingers closed over it.
‘Oh, damn it,’ I said, after a heavy silence had fallen. ‘Now it’s a tie.’
‘And so it is,’ he replied bitterly. ‘And now you are playing with fire.’
‘I kind of noticed,’ I growled. ‘It’s hard not to.’
‘Not the maze, my tenacious adversary.’ He withdrew his hand. I quickly followed suit, not wanting to give anyone the impression that I had reached it first.
‘Oh, do take it,’ he mocked me, his voice full of chill. ‘Someone has to carry it while we make it out of here.’
Unwillingly I did so, feeling the weight of it in my hands. I desperately wished this tournament to be over. Even the prospect of roaming the rainy, windy wild land alone with Millie seemed more inviting than spending another minute with this guy.

There was only one comfort to this: the dislike seemed absolutely mutual.