Chapter 11 #2
The corridor curved, and Nia led us through an archway where the last pretense of civilization fell away.
Roots burst through cracked walls in grasping fingers, covered in twisted gray bark.
Mushrooms glowed with pale blue light in the crevices, the luminescence painting our faces.
The scent of damp earth and flowers made my nose itch and my eyes water.
“This isn’t natural,” Kerralyn said, stooping down to study one of the vines.
“It feels…” Her breath jerked in, and her hands shook.
“Alright, it feels hungry. I know that sounds odd. And the growth patterns, the way the stone has been systematically broken and reformed. I’ve never read about anything like it. ”
“Magic.” Unease crept through Derren’s voice. He slid an arm across Lexie’s shoulders, tugging her away from where Kerralyn was poking a vine with her pencil. “Wouldn’t play with those if I was you.” He dragged Kerralyn back, and the vine twitched. She paled and hurried to keep up.
A vine flung out toward Nia, and her hand snapped out, her palm impacting with the thing gouging toward her. Her other hand lifted, striking with a lightning blade that could’ve only been crafted by magic. She neatly sliced the vine from its base, then continued walking.
The vine lay on the floor, twitching as we passed, and when its sickly-sweet scent hit me, I bolted, catching up to walk close behind Nia.
She sent me a smirk but kept moving.
Finally, our torturous journey was over—or just beginning. Nia stopped at a metal door that vaguely shimmered with white light, and we crowded behind her. Heavy locks ran down the length of the panel, metal vertebrae, each one etched with symbols I couldn’t make out in the dim light.
Nia pulled a ring of keys from her belt and inserted one at a time into each lock.
Click. Snap. Clank. Each lock opened like a wound.
Nia’s mouse watched, its tail flicking back and forth, hitting her nape with each twitch.
When the final lock gave way, Nia pressed her shoulder against the door and pushed. Hinges groaned, metal gouging against itself.
Sunlight burst through the gap, blinding me, making my eyes stream with tears.
Nia poked her finger toward the opening, undulating it. “Out.”
We passed her, stepping from the hallway into a broad, grassy meadow with thick woods beyond. Lush vegetation of every color coated the ground. The treetops scraped toward the murky greenish-blue sky above.
I sucked in a breath of fresh air mixed with the cloying sweet scent of flowers left too long in a tomb. Bird calls drifted from the forest ahead, melodic and beautiful yet somehow fundamentally wrong, as if they were mimicking the sounds without understanding their meaning.
Nia slammed the door shut behind us hard enough to vibrate my bones. Six locks clicked in rapid succession, each one sealing us away from any hope of retreat.
“Well,” Fara said, her voice bright with cheer that couldn’t quite mask the tremor underneath. “There’ll be no going back now.”
Seven other shimmering doors banged closed with the same finality in the wall nearby.
Seven other groups of eight recruits, all of us trapped in this meadow together with whatever lay ahead.
Sixty-four people facing a trial that had been designed to winnow our numbers down to something more manageable.
The space was gorgeous in the way that dangerous things often were, beautiful enough to lure you in before it sprang a trap. Rolling green grass dotted with wildflowers stretched toward a line of trees that rose like a green wall.
Tables laden with supplies sat in neat rows near the forest’s edge, their surfaces groaning under the weight of their bounty.
Weapons glinted, swords and knives and axes that promised swift death to whatever might come at the wielder. Packs bulged with provisions, their leather sides stretched tight over unseen treasures. Tools of every description lay arranged on another table.
It was perfect. Too tempting.
And that was the problem.
Three of the groups broke into sprints toward the tables, their shouts of excitement carrying across the meadow like battle cries. I watched them run, these people who saw opportunity where I saw bait, and cold settled deep in my stomach.
“Stay back,” I barked, my voice cutting through my team’s forward momentum.
The authority in my voice surprised even me. For years, I’d been the dutiful daughter, the perfect Lady of Mercy who followed orders and smiled prettily. But here, with death lurking in every shadow, I was finally becoming who I was meant to be.
Daring. Decisive. Deadly.
Seven pairs of eyes turned to me with varying degrees of surprise and irritation.
Bryson’s scarred face showed the first hint of respect I’d seen from him.
Kerralyn clutched her journal tighter, her eyes bright with curiosity.
Fara took a half-step closer to me, her nurturing instincts recognizing the authority in my tone even if she didn’t understand why.
Maddox’s expression hardened, his suspicion crystallizing into something closer to hostility. No surprise there.
“The ferryman gave me some tips.” My words tumbled out faster than I could organize them properly.
“Everyone listen!” Only a few of the others stopped jogging toward the tables, turning back to look before shaking their heads and continuing.
“The ferryman said to take food and water when they offered supplies, but no weapons. Weapons aren’t allowed. ”
Maddox chuckled. “You took advice from a ferryman, some worker who pushes a boat around?” He gestured toward the sprinting groups with a sharp, angry movement. “We can’t stand around while everyone else claims the best supplies.”
“Think about it for one second, would you?” Desperation made my voice sharper. “Why would they lay out everything we could possibly need like this is a free-for-the-grabbing merchant’s stall?”
“My research agrees with her caution,” Kerralyn said, her journal open in her hands.
Pages fluttered in the breeze as she searched for specific passages.
“The few references I found to the Rite of Bonds emphasized restraint and careful observation. Those who rushed in unprepared faced…” As her gaze met mine, she swallowed hard. “Significant mortality rates.”
Lexie and Derren exchanged one of those looks that spoke of years of shared understanding, of entire conversations compressed into a single glance. Derren gave a sharp nod that showed both agreement and grim acceptance.
“We trust your judgment,” Lexie said.
Bryson studied me before eyeing the tables like they might vanish if we blinked.
“She’s right,” Derren said. But I caught the way he looked at me, like he was deciding whether I was an asset or a threat.
Maddox was already striding toward the tables, his body coiled with frustration. “This is stupid. While we stand here debating, they’re taking everything we might need.”
Jaxon hesitated between us, torn between his brother’s confidence and the growing unease written across the rest of our faces. His fingers worked at his leather bracelet, twisting it around his wrist as he struggled to decide what to do.
“Look,” Maddox said, turning back, his tone only vaguely reasonable. “I’ve watched out for Jaxon from the day he was born. Fates know our parents didn’t care enough to do it. I’m not going to let him die, and that means I need weapons.”
“Do what you want,” I snarled. “I warned you. Don’t say I didn’t. I’m only taking food and water and plenty of it, but I’m not touching anything else.”
I moved around them, rushing toward the tables.
The cinderhawk swept down from above, its wings spread wide as it flew directly into my path. Its flapping wings stirred my hair, its feathers brushing my cheek. I stumbled backward against Kerralyn, who released an oomph and dropped her journal.
“By the fates, bird. Get the fuck out of our way.” Maddox shouldered past me, shooting me a glare. “Call it off or I’ll take care of it permanently.”
The hawk settled on the ground in front of me, head cocked. A harsh cry erupted from its throat.
One of the sprinting groups reached the tables and started grabbing whatever they could. A guy with flame-red hair hefted a sword above his head like a trophy, flipping it around as he sashayed in a circle, his friends swearing and ducking to keep from losing their heads.
“See?” Maddox shouted. “Nothing bad’s happening. Just—”
The petals of a blossom the size of a trencher beside the man snapped open, unfurling with an obscene beauty that only belonged in nightmares. Colors shifted across its surface, purple bleeding to gold bleeding to deepest crimson.
His sword dropping to his side, he turned toward the blossom with a smile of pure wonder.
He leaned in closer.
Someone shouted. “Wait—”
The blossom shivered, and the center yawned open, exposing rows of jagged teeth that gleamed in the sunlight.
Then the guy screamed.
The flower struck with a slick, wet sound, engulfing him to his waist. He kicked and thrashed, vines curling around his body like a garland.
One boot popped off, tumbling across the grass, splattered with blood.
His sword slithered from his grip and fell to the ground while the plant jerked and gulped, swallowing him down fast.
His scream cut off, to the stunned silence of the rest of us.
My stomach lurched.
I fought to hold it together, but a high-pitched sound clawed its way up my throat. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood.
I couldn’t move. My feet were locked to the ground as if a plant had popped up out of the grass nearby and was coming for me, too.
This was why Trew had given me this outfit.
He’d known I’d face death today. That I’d need protection, and I’d need to be ready for violence that could come from any direction.
The leather hugging my skin was his promise that he wanted me to survive, though I had no idea why he cared if I lived or died.
Someone gagged behind me.
My heart thundered loud enough I could barely hear my own ragged breathing.
“By the fates,” Fara whispered. “It ate him.”
Around the tables, more flowers jerked up from the ground.