Chapter 25 #2
She gasped. Zarathos’s sword rested amidst the collection. But why? They must have taken it from him.
The bobcat-headed felyrix beside her sneered, his beady eyes locked on her. “Wait until I get a weapon, little vampire princess. You’ll be the first to go.”
It seemed the exiled remnants of Kingdom Nocturne hadn’t forgotten, or forgiven, what the vampires had done to them so long ago. Both the werewolf and now this creature had come for her the moment they were able.
He took a step toward the stack of weapons.
The floor of the pit gave way beneath his feet. A brief terrified scream echoed around the arena, followed by the sickening squelch of flesh meeting steel.
Aryana gripped the spike nearest her, eyes wide with horror as the ground collapsed beside her… and stopped.
She exhaled, relief rushing in like a tide.
Only a single section had fallen, like the wedge of a pie.
It stopped right before the small island with Zarathos’s sword.
The truth was painfully clear: she and the others stood on a ledge, and the ground between them and the weapons was a false floor, one that dropped into an even deeper pit lined with sharp death spikes waiting to impale the unlucky.
The demon’s body twitched on the sharp points till it stopped moving, the scent of fresh blood drifting up to her. Above them, the crowd around the arena screamed with delight.
“Welcome, kalators, to the Demon Trials,” the demon announcer from the opening ceremony yelled.
He sat above them at the forefront of the stands in a little box that jutted out from where the spectators had packed into the stands.
His magically enhanced voice blared across the arena.
“You will see everything is not as it seems and we are already one down. Poor soul.” The demon smiled.
“Cross the pit, grab a weapon, and you will be able to not only sleep in peace tonight, but your champions will wield the weapon you retrieve into the trials.”
Shit. So die trying or risk more torture. Aryana was sure that the champions would no doubt level retribution against their kalators if they didn’t recover a weapon for them.
From the sections missing, the area in the center that held the weapons appeared to be perfectly circular. If she wanted Zarathos’s sword, she’d have to find a way across.
Another demon, an owl-headed creature with a human body, whose wings were tied back, burst into top speed, trying to outrun the crumbling floor.
For a moment it seemed as if she might make it, but the ground collapsing caught up with her and she plummeted downward with a piercing shriek.
The sound of tearing flesh caused Aryana to flinch.
The stench of blood and death inside the pit grew more pungent.
A hunched goblin with large jowls and narrowed eyes had given up on the thought of the weapons and was moving across the ledge to the other kalators.
He grabbed a creature with the upper body of a ram and lower body of a snake by the scruff of the neck and threw it out onto the floor, where it collapsed.
Another one down.
The goblin set his eyes on the next in line. Neri.
Something fierce and protective arose in Aryana. Jesir was between her and Neri. She moved forward, balancing on the small space of the ledge, holding onto the spikes and inching around them. When she reached Jesir, she gave him a threatening look.
“Don’t move.”
He threw up his hands. “By all means, shuffle along.” He wedged himself between the spikes to allow her to pass.
The demon continued to close the distance between him and Neri.
Neri’s eye widened when she saw Aryana heading toward her. The scent of fear drifting off of her was driving the other demons into an uproar.
“Back off, vampire. The human is mine,” the goblin snarled.
“Searching for a snack during the Demon Trials. Sounds like a good way to get yourself killed,” Aryana said. “Leave the human alone.”
“You’re one to talk. Don’t tell me you don’t want her for your own.”
As Neri screamed and pressed herself between the spikes, Aryana sprang past her, aiming for the attacker. She gripped the spike and swung her legs around, catching the demon in a wound on his side. He gasped and fell backward, tumbling over the ledge and striking the spikes below.
Aryana spun and squatted next to Neri.
Neri jerked away, though there was nowhere to go. “Get back, vampire. I’m not your treat.”
“I’m not going to eat you. I’m saving your life.”
Her good eye narrowed. “Why?”
Gods, that would be such a long story. “Just stay here with me and let me think.”
She huffed. “I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t have to. But know that at this moment, I’m not going to kill you.”
“What if I want to kill you?”
“You’ll lose.”
Neri huffed again, but didn’t argue further.
Aryana looked up and saw Pohan climbing the spears. Was he leaving? Without a weapon. His champion most likely would be livid if he found out his kalator didn’t even try. Jesir remained wedged between the spear-like poles, watching other demons attack each other.
Little vampire.
She stilled, looking around.
Little vampire. Look up.
She glanced up to see Pohan staring at her with meaning in his eyes. That was right, the bread. He was speaking to her mind.
You seem to have some fighting skills. Would you like to team up?
“Why are you—”
Don’t speak. Listen. You must know there are spells and potions that can connect minds.
He spread his wings, revealing his bandaged wounds.
I realize these appear destroyed, but I think I have one or two good glides left in them.
I can get you across, if you can help me get back across with the weapons. Nod yes or no.
If she succeeded in crossing, she might obtain weapons for fellow kalators as well as herself. She peered up at Pohan. But could she trust him? What would stop him from dropping her?
Her fists balled. She wouldn’t leave Neri to suffer.
Plus, her job as kalator was to help Zarathos win the Demon Trials. If she made no attempt, would her bargain kill her? Either way, she was committed to trying.
She nodded.
Good. Two sections to your right. Start across. When the section in front of you starts to crumble, leap onto someone else’s section. I will get you the rest of the distance.
She looked it over. Yes. It was ingenious.
What about getting back? She had to trust that between the two of them, they’d figure something out.
She faced Neri. “I’m going to try for the weapons. What do you want me to fetch for you?”
“What?” She followed Aryana’s gaze up to Pohan and paled. “You’re definitely going to die. If Pohan’s wings still worked, maybe he could, but they’re destroyed.”
Aryana flinched as she raised her eyes again to look at Pohan’s wings. It was a risk. But she was determined to try, anyway.
She moved around the edge until she found two wedges in the floor that still hadn’t fallen through.
She took a deep breath. Gods, she hoped this worked.
Focusing, she tapped into her top speed and raced across.
The ground shook under her feet, and as she felt it fall away, she leapt onto the other ledge, leaping over the boundary of where the floor gave out.
She landed hard and immediately the ground began to give.
Her heart leaped into her throat, but she raised her hand, hoping she hadn’t been tricked into falling to her death.
The ground pulled out from beneath her feet and a scream rose up her throat as she began to fall. A sickening realization burned through her.
A hand grasped her wrist and swung her hard, throwing her across.
She struck the plateau’s edge, her breath knocking out of her, but she scrambled upward.
Placing her hands on her knees, she gasped for air as Pohan made a less than graceful arrival as his wings gave out, hitting the ground harshly on his side.
After her breaths calmed, she moved forward, snatching up Zarathos’s long sword. Then glanced around, grabbed a spear and… one more. She grabbed a small battle ax.
Take this, too. Pohan was up and moving, though his eyes betrayed his pain. He thrust a bow and a quiver of arrows at her, along with another sword. She slung both over her shoulder while grasping the other three under an arm. At the last second, she tucked a jewel-hilted dagger into her clothes.
“This makes no sense,” she whispered as she rearranged the weapons. “I know they don’t want a kalator to win, but why would they maim us so badly we can’t help when we are required to bring our champions weapons?”
The council are the ones who set the trials. The champions most likely don’t know what they are ahead of time, Pohan pointed out. And the opening ceremony is designed to encourage them to be as cruel as possible to their kalators.
“It all seems petty, and cruel, and foolish.”
A darkness that was almost primal flashed across his gaze. Do you expect less from demons?
She supposed she didn’t. Carefully, she pretended to check all the weapons one more time. “Demons may be petty and cruel, but they aren’t stupid.”
Jesir only told you half the story. It’s not just about not wanting a kalator to win.
The reason the trial council kept the position of kalator at all was because of the demon syndicates.
They take bets on how horribly we will be treated, what we will suffer, how we will die.
He looked up at the crowd. You can see them up there now, taking bets.
She followed his gaze and saw demons moving among the stands, up and down, writing down bets, money exchanging hands. Were they betting right now whether Aryana and Pohan would succeed at their task? Gods, and when she thought demons could sink no lower.