Chapter 14 #2
The toad-things close in, near enough now that their smell crashes over me, a wave of rot and sweat and ammonia.
I jab at the air. “Stay back.”
They laugh.
One reaches for me, and I slash without thinking. The blade bites into his palm, drawing a spurt of dark green blood.
He recoils, snarling, but the other moves in to take his place. “Nasty little pretty. Hold still, now.”
He lunges. I instinctively rear back, but there’s nowhere to go. My back hits the hedge and—
I fall right through.
The world tilts as I tumble backward, landing hard on the other side. I scramble upright, gasping, staring at where I just came from.
The hedge wall looks solid. Impenetrable. But I just passed through like it wasn’t even there. As if it’s no more than…
An illusion?
Oh. Oh.
Understanding dawns. These walls…they don’t actually govern the path. They’re only here to confuse me, like everything else in this forsaken place.
On the other side of the wall, the creatures start hollering. I don’t wait to see if they understand what happened. I just turn and run.
Sweat breaks out on my brow. I tuck my dagger into its sheath and sprint along the passageway with an arm outstretched, leaves whipping against my fingertips, thorns slashing at my wrist. The hedge is a solid mass of vegetation. Until suddenly…it isn’t.
My arm lurches into nothing, my entire body pitching sideways.
When I recover my footing, I find myself staring at a stretch of wall that looks like any other, except for the cluster of orange mushrooms huddled at its base.
I consider them, then the crushed fungus still clinging to my boot. It’s almost as if…
Shouts pepper the air behind me. I stomp the mushrooms from existence and plunge into the hedge, chilly air washing across my skin as I pass through to the other side.
In the next corridor, I scan for more mushrooms. There. I bolt toward them, testing my theory by grabbing at the leaves and thorns above.
Nothing but cool, empty space. An illusion, signposted by these mushrooms.
I kick this cluster into dust, too. I won’t leave any trace. I won’t give those toad-things a path to follow.
I plunge through that wall, then do it five more times. Ten. I dart around corners, following the lighted mushrooms that lead the way. The creatures’ shouts fade behind me, until, at long last, I spot an archway in the distance. The exit.
I pelt toward it, arms pumping. I’ll find a new doorway beyond. I have to.
I sail beneath the arched greenery, the maze spitting me out into—
Oh. Oh, goddess.
I wheel madly, my boots skidding to a stop atop the lip of a sheer ravine. A single pebble launches into the abyss, and I watch it fall, watch it bounce across the jagged rocks below. My chest heaves, my heart thrashing so hard I can taste it.
I stopped just short of taking that plunge.
Now the castle looms beyond the ravine, a little closer, a little bigger.
I can’t see a way across, but a swaying rope bridge leads to an island in the middle, perched atop a pillar of stone.
A single tree sprouts from amid the greenery, and in its trunk… a door.
Thank Ishanna. I dart to the head of the bridge, grateful for my gloves as I grip the rope guardrails with both hands. Wooden boards creak and wobble beneath my boots.
Voices darken the air behind me, coating my insides with ice. Those creatures are catching up, but I force myself forward, step after terrifying step. Don’t look down. Don’t think about the drop, or what brand of evil these oversized toad-things plan to inflict.
I’m halfway across, now. Three quarters.
Shouts erupt, telling me I’ve been spotted. I hurry faster, the bridge swaying, my stomach pitching along with it.
A thump, behind me. The boards shiver and jump, the ropes tugging in my grip, as if one of the creatures has joined me on the bridge.
I strain toward the island ahead. If only I can get there, I can strand myself on it. Cut the bridge and take a moment to think, instead of hurtling through that door and into the next trial.
Ten steps left. Five. The bridge bucks beneath my feet, the ropes yanked this way and that.
I jump.
My boots hit solid ground. I spin, plucking the dagger from my belt. My pursuer has already made it halfway across, and I attack the nearest rope, fibers bursting beneath my blade.
Goddess, this thing is sharp. I offer up a silent thank-you to the Shadow.
The rope snaps with an explosive crack. I’ve already gone to work on the second, sawing so hard my shoulder burns.
Slice, slice, snap. The bridge lurches sideways.
The toad-creature screams, nearly thrown by the recoil.
He clings to what remains, spouting curses at me, but I just grin, already hacking at the third rope.
He can’t possibly get to me now. I’ll pitch him into this ravine.
Reduce him to a puddle splattered across the earth.
My blood hums a savage song, my vision tunneling down to the flash of my blade, the creak of the rope.
The third one gives way with a thwack. The toad-thing shrieks, begging for mercy as he clutches at his last remaining hope.
He hauls himself back toward the far side—the only safety he can reach anymore.
I slice and slice, my arm aching. I watch my hands as if from afar—the fingerless leather gloves, the dirt beneath my nails, the weapon in my grip. All of it looks so strange, so unfamiliar, as if these hands belong to someone else, and…wait, what are they doing? What am I doing?
If I cut the rope, this creature dies. Not because I acted out of self-defense, but vengeance.
I pause, words rippling across my memory, like whispers carried on a breeze, so faint I can barely make them out. But they’re words I know backwards and forward, words I learned to write in childhood alongside my name.
No hand shall be raised in violence. As water cannot be gathered again once spilled, life cannot be restored once taken. It’s a passage from the Book of Disciplines, widely cherished, lauded for its mercy.
Goddess, I… Who am I? What have I become? Not a murderer, surely. Not brutal or merciless or unforgiving.
Not fae.
Yet if I do this, if I emerge from this labyrinth a killer, I’ll be no different than one. I’ll have let this place change me. Maybe even cut me off from Ishanna forever.
Bitterness floods my throat. My fingers open, my hands easing back from the rope. From taking a life.
On the far side of the ravine, the creature reaches safety. He launches himself onto solid ground, wailing like a newborn.
My heart rate steadies to a reassuring thump. With my pursuer safe, I hack through the last strands holding the bridge together. It plummets away, boards crashing and splintering against the far cliff. Debris rains down and bursts against the rocks.
I breathe deep. I’m safe, and I didn’t kill anyone. I honored my goddess.
Some part of me still holds faith.
The thought wraps warm hands around me. I scoot back from the edge, alone here on my island, the thrill of my close call dissolving into exhaustion and relief.
The toad-creatures hurl threats, promising death and retribution and all kinds of sordid punishments, but I ignore them.
I did the right thing. I can go home and take my vows and not have blood on my hands when I do it.
Maybe this is Ishanna’s true test for me. The path to earn my Grace.
I turn from the creatures, no longer listening to their tirade. In the distance, the castle glows against the morning. The Shadow must be searching by now. Hunting me. But even when he inevitably tracks me through the hedge maze, he can’t reach me here.
Nothing can.
My gaze drops to the tree—a massive, sprawling oak with a recessed door in its trunk. This one looks almost welcoming, made of blue lacquered wood with an ornate golden handle. But on the other side lies my next challenge. Another maze, another monster, another narrow escape.
I drift closer, my steps weighted by fatigue. My eyelids grow heavy, begging to close.
I have no way of knowing what comes next, or how much it will demand from me. Maybe I should stay here for a bit. Rest.
I glance down at my orb bracelet. Sand lines the bottom of the hourglass, but only barely. I’ve used an eighth of my time, at most.
What harm can come from sleeping for an hour or two?
In the end, my body makes the decision for me. My legs give out, and I sink onto the grassy ground, tucked into the oak tree’s shadows.
I’ll doze for just a little while. Until the Shadow wakes me with his inevitable roaring.
Sleep pulls me down into its embrace. As my eyelids drift closed, I reach for my pendant. Or maybe I only dream that I do.
But it’s a good dream, because the metal warms in my hand.
As if Ishanna has remembered me at last.