Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
RAGNAR
“He’s gone, Ragnar,” Gunnar said, grabbing onto his arm and tugging him away from the body of what had once been a troll he trusted. A troll who had fought beside him countless times.
Now, there wasn’t much left of him to save. Ragnar’s magic was depleted from days and days on end of trying to save those who’d been injured in this labyrinth. There wasn’t much else he could do, not with his magic hanging by the thinnest thread. He could heal bruises, but not a nearly severed head.
He allowed Gunnar to drag him away, staring at the blood splattered walls of the labyrinth that surrounded them. The king had quickly realized that with this many trolls, he couldn’t release them all together. It had taken him what felt like a week to find new human warriors for them to battle, and then he pulsed the trolls in. There was enough time for the trolls to get overwhelmed before another troll was released into the arena. Each new troll ran to the one who had come before them, trying desperately to reach them before the worst happened.
Ragnar had just done it for Gunnar, and Gunnar had done it for the trolls before them. But in the few weeks that they had been here, the multiple times they had suffered through this exact situation, they had lost too many. Six trolls out of the twelve who had been in the cell with them. Ragnar knew there were more in other areas of the prison. Trolls who had been captured with him, and likely others as well.
He just hoped they all reached the realm of the dead with their heads held high. They had fought well. They had died in glory and valor.
And someday, he would fight until his last breath to kill this king.
Breathing in deeply, he nodded and turned to his brother. “Let’s go. Where are the others?”
“In the center. It’s easier to defend.”
He took only the briefest moment to look up at the stands. He did it often these days. Anytime he paused to catch his breath, he stared up at her. His pillar of fire. A beacon to tell him he could keep going.
They ran. The humans were given better weapons, and they didn’t want to get caught by a larger group of the men. He and his brother were tired, hungry, thirsty. He didn’t know how much longer the trolls could all keep going like this. Soon enough, they would all make a mistake that would be their last.
When they made it to the center of the labyrinth, there was another familiar face waiting for them. Bjorn stood there, his horns tarnished with age and smeared with blood. His chest rose and fell with each breath, barely leashed rage gripping him as he stood there looking at the other trolls.
They’d all had run-ins with him. Bjorn did not give anyone even a hint of mercy. He’d killed multiple trolls already, or at least, that was what they were told. Ragnar had a feeling they were mercy kills, considering the details he’d heard. Bjorn only killed those who were already weak, or so injured they wouldn’t make it back to the others.
Easy pickings, a few of the trolls had told him. But Ragnar knew it wasn’t that. Bjorn gave the trolls a quick death, where the humans wouldn’t have.
“What are you doing here?” Ragnar asked, nodding for Gunnar to return to the others and make sure that their old friend hadn’t done any damage while they’d been gone. Gunnar was quick and light on his steps, skirting by the angry beast.
Bjorn couldn’t be reasoned with when he was like this. This was a troll who had been broken in so many ways. No one could get through to him, no matter how many times Ragnar had tried.
“Getting you out,” Bjorn snarled.
“Getting us out?”
“I need you all to head to the back right corner of the labyrinth. The wall is a different color. Wait there for me. I’ll return when it’s time.” Bjorn started to leave, only pausing when Gunnar made a sound of disbelief.
His brother had never known when to keep his mouth shut. “Why should we trust you? After all the troll blood you’ve spilt, I’d rather take my chances here than with you.”
Bjorn merely looked over his shoulder at him, the glare turning his eyes to chips of obsidian. “I’m not doing it for you. Maia needs to get out of here. They aren’t going to give her to me again. We haven’t been giving the Watchers enough of a show.”
“The Watchers?” Ragnar repeated, his body lurching forward at the sound of her name.
“There are humans who pay to see what we do to the women gifted to us. They are the worst of the lot.” Bjorn gestured to the crowd above them, many of the humans already pointing at the gathering of trolls and shouting with excited tones. “These are the ones who are here for blood. Some of them are here to see the prowess of trolls in other ways.”
No wonder Ragnar and Gunnar had been getting worse and worse places in the labyrinth. Just two days ago, Ragnar had been the first one in the arena and they’d made him wait nearly double the time for another troll to get in to help him. He’d nearly been pinned by a group of seven humans with weapons that could pierce through his skin before help had arrived.
He’d nearly died. And all because he wasn’t touching the human women that the king had gifted him.
But that meant…Blinding rage seared through him. Bjorn had been given Maia. Multiple times.
“Did you–” He couldn’t even say the words. Couldn’t get them out.
His old friend eyed him with pity. “No, Ragnar. She is a troll wife. I have lost many of the old ways, but not that one.”
Blowing out a long breath, he squared his shoulders and told himself they were all struggling here. The humans had put them through the worst that they could, and at least Bjorn hadn’t touched her. “Fine. Where in the labyrinth?”
Bjorn nodded to his feet, and Ragnar could see that he’d already drawn a map on the floor. It was drawn close enough to the stone that it was mostly obscured by the walls, so the humans in the stands couldn’t see it.
Ragnar nodded, and then turned his attention to the other trolls as Bjorn headed back into the labyrinth. “We don’t have a choice.”
“I don’t trust him,” Gunnar replied as he helped one of the other trolls stand. The woman was pale and had her hand pressed against her side where a stab wound sluggishly bled.
“Can you make it?” Ragnar asked her.
“I can.”
He studied the map as much as he could, then nodded. He knew where this was. It had been a recently reinforced area of the labyrinth. The new mortar and stones still smelled, although he hadn’t understood why. They’d all guessed that the king had the labyrinth changed regularly, just to make it harder for the warriors who were battling for their lives to memorize the layout.
Maybe they’d been wrong.
Together, they all slipped out into the looping halls. He hoped they would be able to get away without any of the humans finding them, but he’d been very wrong. The first turn led them head to head with a group of nearly ten humans, all armed to the teeth.
They all paused, staring at each other for a few moments before Gunnar stepped up beside him. Lifting a sharp claw, he pointed at one of the men who held a curved sword. “I’m going to take that. Such a blade is too good for the likes of you.”
The man was bigger than many of the warriors they had met so far in this place. His shoulders were broad, packed with muscle, and his entire body slick with sweat. A splattering of blood covered his ribs, which Ragnar didn’t know if that was from a troll or from another human who he had taken the sword from.
Still, the human’s face curved into a smile and he gestured with the sword. “You can try, beast.”
It was a good enough reason for them all to lunge into an attack.
Gunnar flew at him first, his body a blur of motion as he barreled toward the humans. Ragnar followed him closely, making sure to take the other side so there was nowhere the humans could escape. He picked up the first one that came at him, throwing the man over his head toward the hungry pack of trolls who waited for him. They tore him apart, limb by limb, until he was little more than a mist of blood in the air.
And so they fought. Continually. Over and over until his breathing was ragged and his mind was fuzzy with rage. He wanted them all dead. Every single one of them.
Until they were. Until Ragnar stood on a pile of meat and bones.
The pain registered first. A large gash across his ribs, one nearly through his thigh. One of the humans had gotten him across the face with a wicked blade that shouldn’t have been able to slice through his leathery hide. Breathing hard, he stared at the others, who were looking worse for wear as well.
But alive. They were all alive. And that meant they could continue forward.
They kept going, all of them injured and limping. Finally, they made it to the area Bjorn had told them to wait in. Ragnar pressed a hand against his side to staunch the bleeding and turned his back to the wall. “And now we wait.”
“We wait?” one of the trolls said, his voice shaking. “For what?”
Ragnar didn’t know. But he had a feeling it was important to trust Bjorn. There was a long way for them all to go, but trusting their own kind was the best start they had.
A rumble of sound shook the labyrinth, but it seemed to come from above them. Ragnar looked up and to the right, his eyes widening in shock as he saw a woman launch herself from the stands above them. Her tangled hair and dirty clothing marked her as one of the “gifts”. And then he heard Gunnar suck in an angry breath.
The women couldn’t survive that fall. The stands that contained those women were significantly higher and besides, once the women were in here, he had no idea what the human men would do.
“Is this part of the king’s plan?” he asked, staring up to see many guards were already rushing toward the line of women who always stood up there.
Where was Maia? She was usually with them, but today she wasn’t. He didn’t see her shock of red hair, nor did he get the comfort of knowing she was near.
His stomach churned in fear that perhaps the king had done something to her. At the end of the day, that was the only thing that would tear him apart. He wouldn’t be able to come back from that, and the king knew it. The only way to hurt him was through her.
The rumbling sound happened again, although now he swore it came from within the labyrinth itself. Anxiety churned in his gut, making it hard to focus when all he could think about was her. The image of her red hair had kept him going, kept him fighting. And now?
Now he would tear this entire building down if it meant he could get to her. He would fight, tusk and claw, to get to her. If he had search the entire castle he would. He would revel in their death, paint the walls red and make the cavernous halls ring with their shrieks of pain.
The noise got closer, so he squared his shoulders, then shook out his hands. “This is it,” he muttered. “It ends here, or I end here.”
“Ragnar—“
“Enough, Gunnar. This is my choice.” And he would end this battle in bloody glory.
Until bright red hair rounded the closest entrance in the labyrinth and his entire world stopped. A mirage, surely. Her red hair was more tangled than he remembered, but parts of it were woven in braids. Her white dress, that had once been so stunning, was smeared with dirt and blood. But her expression was filled with rage and determination.
She didn’t stop running, not even when she saw him. She darted right for him, rushing into his arms with the force of an earthquake. He staggered back a few steps, his arms still held out for her. Part of him couldn’t believe she was really here in his arms.
But then he smelled her. That sugary sweet scent that was only slightly marred by the death and decay that surrounded them. Her heart beat frantically against his belly, and her hair tangled against his chest. She was here. Just as she was supposed to be.
With a horrible groan that wrenched from his very soul, Ragnar gathered her up in his arms and held her tightly against him. He squeezed too hard. He could tell, but he wanted to feel that she was alive. He needed to know that the warmth in his arms was really her.
Tears burned in his eyes, trailing down his cheeks before dropping into her hair.
“Maia,” he whispered, his voice ragged and raw.
She pressed a kiss over his heart, her lips a welcome change to the anger and rage that filled this place. “Ragnar, we have to go.”
“How did you get here?”
“I jumped.” She shuddered. “I was lucky enough to not break my leg, but I was the first one to jump. Did you not see me?”
He must not have been looking. He was ashamed to admit that his eyes weren’t on her at all times. “Listen to me, there is something I have to say to you.”
“Ragnar, there is no time–” She tried to say, but he pressed his hands over her mouth.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much. I should have said it a thousand times before this moment, and I am ashamed that I have not. I love you more than the mountains beneath our feet, my fire hair.”
Those big, green eyes stared up at him and he swore there was laughter in those depths. “I know.”
He blinked. “You what?”
“I know you love me.” There was a giggle in those words. “I’ve known it for a while, I think. But I love you too, you know.”
A knot in his chest eased. He had no idea it was even there, but it felt like it had been there for a long time.
She kissed him, sweet and slow and everything he had missed. She was alive in his hands and a missing piece of his soul slotted back into place.
Foreheads pressed together, he breathed her in before saying, “There’s no way out.”
“The wall behind you is breakable, according to Bjorn.”
Gunnar burst into motion at the words. The other trolls were quick to follow suit, slamming their shoulders against the brand new brick and mortar that moved with every heave. Damn it, Bjorn had been right.
And then the troll himself was right there, his massive bulk taking up nearly the entire space between the two walls, and in his arms was the other woman who had jumped. One of her legs was at a terrible angle, but she was still alive.
The wall crumbled. That easily. They’d missed it, although there were countless walls that looked identical to this one all throughout the labyrinth.
Bjorn handed the woman over to Gunnar and then stood there with his hands flexing. “Give me a weapon.”
“Come with us,” Ragnar said.
“Someone has to give you enough time to run. The passages are small and your people are injured. Give me a weapon.”
It didn’t feel right to just leave Bjorn with a weapon and expect him to do all of this for them. He was meant to come with them. He was one of the trolls they had lost and now they were supposed to just... abandon him?
“No,” Ragnar said. “You’re coming with us.”
Bjorn strode right up to him, that awkward gait reminding Ragnar of all of his faults until the massive horned troll stopped right in front of him and pressed their foreheads together. Maia was pressed between them, safer than she’d ever been before. “You will go with your troll wife and you will keep her safe. I am broken and bloody, brother. I have been for a very long time. But your troll wife reminded me that I still have some honor left. Let me do this for you. Let me go.”
Ragnar heaved out an angry breath. Because he knew there was nothing he could do.
At the sound of more humans approaching, this time with clanking armor and the sound of swords being drawn, he backed away with Maia in his arms.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Be safe,” Maia added. “We’re coming back for you.”
He could see Bjorn didn’t believe that. His old friend, or perhaps the man he no longer knew, turned toward the sound of chaos that approached them and let out a roar of rage.
Ragnar gathered Maia in his arms, turned, and plunged into the darkness with the sound of battle ringing in his ears.