Chapter 7
7
W hen we arrived at the silo’s ground floor that morning for roll call, the sky looked stormy as gray light filtered down from the skylight. As I surveyed the group as everyone filtered in, I saw that Ajax was sporting a brand-new eye patch. The poison must have seeped into his eye, but he was still capable of sending me a dirty glare with his remaining one.
He deserved it , I thought, a bit surprised by the brutality of my reaction. But I was here to survive—and my only regret was not killing him when I had the chance, as I knew I had made a brutal enemy who wouldn’t hold back in the trials.
Tristen arrived last—once again descending from the upper floors with no fewer than fifteen guards surrounding him. His entourage all had their swords unsheathed, looking anxious. Tristen acted as if they weren’t there, looking perpetually bored with the procession surrounding him.
A ruthless killer . That’s what everyone knew him as. I shivered, wondering if his reputation would prove true when we entered the killing field.
The High Sorceress Cassandra Wraithborn emerged next from that set of metal double doors across from where we stood. She was wearing her usual ice blue hooded robe, but today the dress she wore underneath was white with a gold trim—Luminaria’s colors, I gathered, as they were the same colors as the guard’s uniforms.
Callum joined Cassandra, and she stepped forward as roll call ended.
“Some of you have spent nearly an entire year underground, waiting for your shot at freedom,” Cassandra said in her sultry voice. “But now, each of you will rise to the challenge of the first Ash Trial. You will fight for your place on the frontlines of your King’s crusade to victory and for the honor of clearing your name and protecting your home. You will fight for your freedom . If you lose, however, you will be plunged into the darkness of eternal night. A hero’s death. May each of you face your fate with bravery through all six trials. Now, we rise.”
With that, the floor of the silo started to move . I tried to stand steady as the entire platform that had been the ground level of the silo started to rise—a huge cement elevator that brought all of us to the surface, one level at a time.
The sunroof at the top of the silo retracted, and I could feel fresh air flood in to greet us as we rose. When the platform arrived on the surface of the silo, my breath stilled in my throat.
I had seen just a tiny corner of the island from the training grounds, but from the top of the silo, I could see much more of the surrounding area from the hilltop the silo peeked out from. We were in the middle of a lush island, greenery dripping everywhere. The air was only lightly humid, and a soft fog rolled in through the trees like creeping specters, just barely obscuring a huge Stone Coliseum that towered over the silo. Between us and the coliseum was a winding dirt road that curved through a forest that hid the rest of the landscape from view.
And from the coliseum, I could hear a crowd roaring .
“Walk,” Callum commanded all of us prisoners, and we were forced into a single-file line by the guards.
I felt compelled to memorize as many details as I could of the tiny swath of the island between the silo and the coliseum as the fog and thick forest allowed. It also helped me slow my heart rate and keep the anxious thoughts at bay.
I’m going in blind to this , I felt my bitter thoughts threatening to bubble over. At least the others have their godsdamned memories . But I shook my head and tried to push the thoughts away. Something deep down reminded me that I couldn’t afford to curse my lack of power. I was working with what I had been given—and at least I was a good fighter. That was something.
The single-file line of seventy prisoners passed through a smattering of trees, winding through the edge of the forest…
…and the sight before me made me gasp . There, with iron nails nailing their hands to a makeshift cross that stuck out above the trees, was the woman from yesterday.
The woman who begged for mercy . She had been crucified.
As we walked closer, murmurs sparked. Something had ravaged the woman’s body. Large chunks were missing, as if a beast with a huge maw had taken big bites of her before growing bored and wandering away.
I forced myself to look away. Tried not to listen to the rustling in the forest just beyond the treeline, where the tendrils of fog curled like beckoning fingers of a lover.
The Isle of Embermere was not fucking around. And neither was the King who ruled here.
I tried not to let it shake me, tried to still my trembling hands as we continued the pilgrimage to the coliseum, the roaring of the crowd growing louder.
I almost died yesterday. But would that death had been kinder compared to the death I might be about to face today?
I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to breathe. Callum was at the front of the line, and he couldn’t be seen helping me or he would risk the others taking too much of a note of his favor for me. Even Rachelle had a determined look on her face, striding ahead at the front of the pack with her head held high.
We were close to the Stone Coliseum now, and outside I noticed an odd shimmering pool about the size of one or two men. It was being guarded by a few armed guards, and shaded by a few large trees. Strange .
But my gaze went back to the towering Stone Coliseum ahead of me, and we passed through one of the rounded arches of the first set of gates to enter the cavernous tunnel that led into the main ring of the coliseum.
As we entered the coliseum, the roaring grew to a fever pitch. My eyes went to the stands, which were packed full of a few hundred courtiers and their help. I scanned the crowd, trying to get a sense of who was in attendance. The royalty wore incredible finery, from crimson gowns to headpieces made of jewels. Men in tailored shirts and golden armor were accompanied by guards in fighting leathers. It was easy to pick out the servants and those who were there to wait on the rich by the dullness of their clothes and frowns on their faces as they watched us filter in. Some of them jeered at us, but it was the royalty who were taking the most delight in the death match about to unfold before them.
“Death to the Shadowfire Assassin!” someone yelled from the stands, and more screams to the same effect followed.
Tristen gave a regal wave to the audience as if he was being greeted by loyal subjects—not a crowd that wished him dead.
We were led to stand on marks and face the audience, and I was one of the last. The coliseum floor was nothing but dirt, and at the center about twenty footspans in front of us was a pile of weapons. Past that was a second pile, this one placed on a hill of dirt and more weapons—further away from the first and harder to reach. Atop that second massive pile of weapons, I could see the glint of a sword with a blue blade embedded nearly up to the hilt in a glimmering stone on that hill. It caught my eye, as if calling to me.
The Bluesteel Blade.
Something in my blood sung at the sight of the blade. It felt like a piece of me was embedded in the blade, and I knew in that instant that I wanted it .
There was movement in the crowd. I turned to the dais at the center of the crowd where King West of Luminaria and his court sat. King West rose and the spectators hushed into an eerie silence.
“Welcome to the hundred and twelfth Ash Trials,” his voice boomed, some sort of lesser magic amplifying it to every corner of the stadium. “Today, we begin the process of rebirth, selecting a champion to fearlessly fight at our front lines to earn this second chance. The Isle of Embermere will test our prisoners and select only one who is of the mettle and strength to be able to shoulder this responsibility and win the gift of absolution of their sins, burning the past to ashes to make way for a brighter future where the Kingdom of Luminaria can be whole once more, and we can restore order alongside our allied Kingdoms of Septerra.”
The crowd roared as the island seemed to shift in response. He was every part a regal ruler, even in his aristocratic softness.
“Let the games begin in ten…” the King began to count.
Cassandra murmured something under her breath, and all of our bands dropped to the dirt ground beneath us. A spell to drop our iron bands—which released everyone’s magic. I tried to move, but I felt glued in place, only able to swivel my head. The others were frozen as well, all of us caught in place likely by another spell that would fully release us at the end of King West’s countdown.
“Nine…”
Cassandra, Callum, and the rest of the guards left through the way we had entered, a grate of metal bars falling behind them as they exited through the tunnel. Callum tossed one more glance my way—I saw his fear for me moments before he disappeared.
“Eight…”
Did he really believe I could survive this? Did I?
“Seven…”
I craned my neck, trying to get a better view of all seventy contestants. I caught Tristen’s gaze from where he stood on the other side of the arena.
Gods, his eyes…
“Six…”
But as he stared me down, I felt a sensation on my mind’s door. Like… a knocking . As if a presence was trying to get in.
“Five…”
He’s a reader, a mindweavyr. I remembered Rachelle’s words as Tristen stared me down with that ferocious intensity. As if he was trying to decipher me, unravel me. A predator trying to read its prey’s next move.
“Four…”
If he was trying to scramble my brains, it wasn’t working. I stared him down with a glare. I slammed the gates shut to my mind—so hard that Tristen’s eyes went wide.
“Three…”
How did I know how to do that? I wondered. I found myself grinning at Tristen’s stunned expression.
“Two…”
I had exactly two seconds to gloat. Callum had said I needed to get a weapon. I fixed my gaze on the pile of weapons in front of me, tensing and preparing to sprint.
“One…”
The moment my feet could move, a huge body tackled me to the ground.
I cried out in pain as Ajax was on top of me, easily pinning me down with his arms. He brought both of my wrists over my head, pinning them to the cold earth with one hand while his other caressed my cheek.
“I won’t even need my magic to kill you, girl. Not even your Commander can save you now,” he sneered.
“He doesn’t need to save me,” I said, but my voice wavered. This was my first real test—whether or not I could survive on my own.
I tried to headbutt Ajax, but he pulled away with a tsking sound and a sneer on his lips. “Is that really the best you got?”
Before I could respond, a rumbling started emanating from the ground below the coliseum, drowning out even the shouts of the crowd.
Out of the corner of my vision, I saw prisoners begin to engage in battle with each other, many going for the pile of weapons that were closest to us. A flash of shadowfire sparked from across the arena as Tristen easily kept six prisoners from cornering him.
But as the shaking continued, a horrible crack sounded—again and again—as the ground split in the coliseum. I couldn’t see much from where Ajax had me pinned, but it looked like dark tunnels were being ripped open in the ground all around us.
Ajax swiveled his head to see what was going on, and I managed to yank one of my hands free, smashing my palm upward, slamming into the underside of his jaw with all my might. The blow might have broken the nose of any other prisoner—but it only served to make Ajax angry, my palm glancing off of his face as if I were a mere fly trying to punch a tiger.
“You want death? I’ll give you death.”
Both his hands went to my neck, choking me. I moved quick, unsheathing the dagger Callum had given me, embedding it into Ajax’s exposed bicep just as his hands closed around my neck, cutting off my oxygen.
He released me slightly, looking down at the dagger. Then, his lips curled into a smile. “You think your butter knife can hurt me?” But the effect of the paralyzing elixir was fast. His hands slackened on my neck, his jaw dropping as he started to lose control of his limbs. “What the fuck?”
His body went limp, crashing on top of me. I emitted a cry of pain as I used up the rest of my strength to roll out from under him, stumbling to my feet as my body still screamed from the exertion of the past twenty-four hours.
I’m in no shape to fight today, I realized. Inconvenient timing—it might cost me my life. Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a sickening crunch that came from behind me.
I turned, and my eyes went wide.
Before me, a horned demon with beady red eyes chewed on the half-alive body of a prisoner with the casualness of livestock chewing its cud. It was the size of three or four men, towering over me and walking on two feet while hands that ended in sharp claws cradled its prey. It was hairless, covered in black bony muscle and scales.
But as its eyes fixed on me, my breath caught in my throat. The scaly thing quirked its horned head to the right and spit out what was left of the prisoner, its dark black saliva dripping on the ground before me. It took a step closer.
“ No no no no no ,” I whispered, my heart beating as I scrambled backward—and felt my foot snag on another prisoner’s body, who had died clutching a blade.
A blade .
It was a shortsword, small but polished and sharp. I felt that barely-there intuition once more.
GRAB IT!
I did, and as the demon launched itself at me, pushing off its strong legs as it jumped for me—moving so fast it seemed to just appear in front of me—I thrust the blade upward, pushing it with a thick crunch through its chest?—
—and the demon’s beady eyes went wide as it slumped back. I yanked the blade from the demon’s heart and it dripped with black blood. I immediately dropped the blade, horror filling my veins.
“Am I The Lord Killer, then?” I whispered, trembling. I had so easily killed that thing, known exactly how to position my blade so it lanced its heart. My memory was silent, my intuition giving me nothing more to work with. Not even a flash of something that could shed light into the unending darkness of my mind.
I felt like I was being dragged underwater, going into some sort of shock as the screeching demons continued to turn those around me into their lunch. More demons were clawing their way out of the holes in the ground, as if they were emerging from the underworld itself.
“ Come to me ,” a voice said, crystal clear in my mind. I looked up and saw it again—as if it were calling to me from across the arena.
The Bluesteel Blade.
“ Yes ,” the voice whispered . “ I’m yours .”
But adrenaline kicked into gear again as I saw yet another demon prowling around the edge of the ring—its gaze landing right on me.
I sucked in a breath, trying to stay calm even as I felt my mind fraying under the pressure of the situation, screams of dying prisoners and the slash of steel filling the coliseum around me. Twenty or so prisoners had already been killed, their bodies littering the ground.
Would I join the dead? Or find a way to stay with the living?
Then, without warning, the demon sprinted toward me—but it wasn’t just sprinting, it was jumping through space—moving so quickly that it seemed to be teleporting. Vanishing and reappearing feet at a time, blinking in and out of existence at such a rapid pace that it was in front of me before I could breathe, before I could react, its front claws arced downward.
I took a half-step back, but it was a second too late as I felt a sharp pain across my side accompanied by a warmth of blood cascading down my body, slash marks marring my arms and legs. I stumbled, trying to stay standing as the tang of blood nearly made me vomit.
Help me. I begged my intuition. But it was silent, and tears welled in my eyes as the demon raised its claws once more, this time aiming to disembowel me.
No. Not like this. Please.
I braced myself, dropping into some semblance of a fighting stance and raising my fists as if that would do anything other than allow me to die with some dignity.
But as the demon started to slash downward, a flash of red crossed my vision. And then, the demon was falling…
…and being mauled by a red-furred lioness.
When had a lioness entered the ring?
A lioness that dug for its blackened heart, shaking it loose and squeezing it like a dog toy. The lioness turned to me, and an instant later, it shifted back into… Rachelle .
“You stupid girl, get yourself a godsdamn weapon!” Rachelle shouted, striding to me and shaking my shoulders. “You’re my only friend and you’re not allowed to die, do you hear me?”
“You’re a shifter,” I said, still in shock.
Rachelle smiled, wiping off the black demon’s blood with the back of her arm and tossing her red curls with a grin. “Damn straight. Now move .”
I didn’t have to be told twice, running to the still untouched second pile of weapons on the side of the coliseum closer to the King’s dais and all of the nobles—a bit further from the fray of the fighting. There were daggers, weighted spikes on chains, longswords, shortswords, throwing knives?—
—but once again, I felt my heart seem to skip a beat as my gaze latched onto the shine of the Bluesteel Blade.
It wasn’t in the pile of weapons but instead embedded in a round stone at the very top of the hill of weapons. I would have to crawl across all of the sharp weapons piled on the rocky outcropping to get to it.
“You have good taste, but it’s mine,” a smooth voice said beside me.
I turned to see Tristen beside me, no worse for wear except for some blood on his clothes—blood that clearly didn’t belong to him.
I looked up again at the sword in the stone. It felt as if it was calling for me. “You’ll have to race me for it,” I said, and then I was off sprinting, scrambling up over the massive pile of weapons.
I didn’t know what came over me, just that I knew I had to have that sword. I darted over the rocks and steel, my feet nimble despite the shifting rocks and weapons below them, but Tristen was like a shadow, right behind me with every leap.
The two of us landed across from each other, the sword in the stone between us.
“Don’t,” he warned, but the playfulness was gone from his voice.
“Why? Is this poisoned, too?” I quipped.
“No, but it might as well be,” Tristen said. “Let me have it.”
“All right. It’s yours,” I said, pretending to relax my stance.
Tristen seemed relieved, the tension ebbing from his body for a moment—but that half-second head start was all that I needed.
I was about to grab the blade when Tristen’s voice shot through me.
“Stop. Step back from the sword,” he said, but his voice was layered with something old. Ancient. Commanding. My body, mid leap, simply just… stopped. Obeying his command completely as it took a step back from the blade—and I was completely unable to stop myself from following his command.
Tristen was using his mindweavying to compel me.
I glared at him, anger rising to a boiling point within me. “Let. Me. Fucking. Go,” I growled.
He took a step closer to the blade, his expression lethal. “Didn’t you learn not to take something that doesn’t belong to you?”
“ Oh, but it does ,” the Bluesteel Blade whispered to me, louder now that I was within arm’s reach of it.
“Let me go,” I said again to Tristen, hating how my body wasn’t under my own control. I must have had an edge of desperation in my voice, because I saw him falter.
Did the Shadowfire Assassin care how I felt?
But a roar of a demon snapped his attention away from me as he turned, and I felt his mindweavying power lift.
In the moment he was distracted, I lunged for the blade. Tristen turned back to me, but it was too late.
I watched his expression turn to horror as I darted to the sword, my hands wrapping around its sturdy hilt. As my feet reached the stone, I pulled.
The sword didn’t budge at first. But with great effort, I kept pulling, and felt it move. The heat of the hilt started to increase, and it went from hot to sizzling. I screamed as it started to eat through the flesh of my hands, but it was too late. I couldn’t drop the blade now—I could only continue to pull. I shoved all my strength into yanking that blade from the stone, the agonizing pain shooting through me as blood ran down the blade— my blood—as I fought through the dizzying agony to claim what I felt in my bones belonged to me .
“ Yes, claim me ,” the blade whispered. “ I am yours—if you can keep me .”
As the steel slid from the stone, the holes in the ground floor of the coliseum started to close up, stitching the ground back together—sealing the demons within the earth back into their hellish prison. It was as if the island had wanted this to happen. Wanted someone to pull the sword from the stone, as if the Bluesteel Blade was a hero’s reward.
But as all the remaining demons slowly swiveled their heads toward me, I saw that the reward came with a cost. All of their eyes locked on me, and they started crawling and blinking toward where Tristen and I stood at the top of the hill of weapons.
“Put your back to me,” Tristen commanded. “I’ll help you fight them off.”
“Why?” I demanded, eyeing the sword he drew from a pile beside us and wondering if he was going to do the demons’ job for them and embed that blade into my back before they got to us.
“Would you prefer to die?” Tristen demanded, but the demons were seconds away. I had no choice. I gave Tristen my back—even as I knew Callum would give me hell for doing so—and I felt him growl out a warning behind me. “Focus, Sael ,” he said.
And just as they had done before, the demons seemed to teleport, but to my mortal eye they were just moving too quickly to be fully perceived. They converged on me—too fast. I lifted the heavy sword, screaming with the effort. The sword was leaden and hot. The hilt continued to burn my skin and blood spiraled down my arms in warm rivulets.
I swung the sword at the first demon that came at me, but it was reduced to ashes as I felt heat at my back and a blast of cold shadowfire as Tristen sent a ball of blue green flame at the screeching demons, giving me space to breathe and once more lift the heavy sword. Its Bluesteel glinted in the sun.
“Are you all right?” I felt his voice by my ear as we continued to fight back-to-back.
“No!” I shouted back at him, trying to ignore the pain throbbing through my limbs and that too-hot hilt.
“I warned you not to grab the sword,” he said, something edging his voice. Was he… concerned ?
I didn’t have time to respond, having to heave the heavy sword at another demon—and I realized as I cut it in half that it was the final one.
The Stone Coliseum settled in a moment of silence. I heaved lungfuls of air into my fried body as I scanned the remaining prisoners before the crowd exploded into hollers of applause and wild cheers.
That’s when I staggered, dropping the blade with a clatter. A wave of dizzy nausea descended on me. I blacked out before I hit the ground.