Chapter 8 #2
My mind races. My senses are filled with the smell of blood, the roaring of these creatures, and the stampede of challengers running for their lives. I can’t turn and flee back into the forest. Not when I’ve made it this far.
Not when some are about to go through the gates.
I watch as a tall, hooded figure calmly walks toward them, without a care in the world. Harlan Raker’s sword rings as he unsheathes it—and the beasts begin to fall. His blade moves in arcs of silver in front of him, so fast I barely see his movements as he clears a path right through the creatures.
Others follow him, just like I did in the maze.
A dozen of them.
I can feel my chances slipping away as Raker steps through the gates. Then the rest. There are only thirty-seven spots remaining.
Bridge slick with blood, I bolt forward.
In front of me, a challenger is sprinting in the opposite direction. He’s crushed beneath a massive foot. Another is flung off the side of the bridge.
The next beast doesn’t slow as it charges right toward me.
It bares its fangs. Opens its mouth like it’s going to devour me whole. Fuck.
I can’t outrun it. So, I need to think.
I might not be the strongest, or the fastest, or have any of the right tools, but I have my mind. And I’ve had to fight to survive every day for the last decade, without a family. I’ve always found a way out of every snare. Sheer desperation has made me resourceful.
A plan forms, and it might be the worst one I’ve ever had, or the best. I won’t be sure, until it’s too late.
The beast rushes at me and, with a shaking breath, I stand my ground, both arms reaching back, sweaty fingers gripping the hilt of my new blade.
I slowly pull it out, letting its weight bring it forward, until its tip is against the ground.
Time slows, and I wonder if it’s because it’s my last seconds. I wonder if it’s a mercy from the gods. Then I remember that the gods are merciless. This is not my end.
This creature will not kill me.
The stone beneath my feet shakes as the beast gets closer.
It moves in long, vaulting strides. Its face is twisted.
It has dark scales, thick legs, and a body that could fit a dozen of us in its multiple stomachs.
Its mouth is full of rows of teeth like a fully stocked forge.
I can almost see my reflection in those gleaming fangs as it gets closer.
Closer. Until I can feel the heat of its rancid breath against my face.
This better fucking work.
At the very last moment, I fall back, knees bent, legs in angles at my sides, body flattened—and lift my newfound sword all the way up with both arms and every sputtering ounce of strength I have left.
And the blade cuts right up the beast’s stomach, splitting it open. Guts and hot blood rain down on me. I barely close my eyes in time. A primal roar thunders above.
Its body crashes behind my head. I hear it slide … before that howl fades away, as it slips right over the side. The drop is so far, I don’t hear it land.
Alive.
I’m … still alive.
My crushing relief doesn’t last more than a few seconds. I can’t stay here, buried in a pile of guts. I can’t retch at the smell. I need to move. I open my eyes and am met with a stretch of cloudless sky. It’s almost peaceful. It’s almost too easy to just take a breath. But I can’t.
I will know what the sky looks like on the other side. I will see it for myself. I will see the gods, in all their glory, on their knees, begging for someone to save them the same way my family did.
I rise, just like Stellan taught me. Covered in guts, I get to my feet and lift my blade once more, fighting to keep the metal steady. Another beast is hurtling toward me. I brace myself, trying not to slip in all the blood—
But the next creature runs right past me. The one after that doesn’t even seem to notice me, not like the one I took down, which seemed to be hunting me. I study its face closely as it passes me by.
That’s when I realize the creatures don’t have eyes.
They can’t see. They are going off scent.
I smell like them.
Covered in their blood and guts, I smell like them.
Up ahead, I catch a flash of red hair. Kira. She’s on her hands and knees, crawling to the other side of the bridge, arms shaking.
“Forty-two have passed!” someone yells. It’s one of Cadoc’s friends, calling to the others.
Before I can think better of it, I drag my hands through the blood and guts at my feet, then bolt toward Kira, shoes slipping, skin hot with the beast’s blood, until I’m at her side.
There isn’t time to explain. I smear the red on her head, on her arms, down her sides. She gasps, but once she sees my face, she stills.
Trust, I think. So, that’s what that looks like.
The beast hurtling toward her changes its path.
“Go.”
The creatures that ran down the length of the bridge are now turning back around. They’re hungry for more. I drag us to the side, rolling, and a foot the size of my body barely misses us.
Another person isn’t so lucky. A challenger just short of the gates gets crushed, bones snapping like twigs.
Blood. Mortal blood everywhere, and we slip in it, falling, sliding, taking each other down. I try to grip anything, anything, but the stone is slippery, and—
A hand.
No. A handle.
Zane’s ax.
He’s right ahead of us. “Forty-six have made it through,” he says, just as Valen runs past us, making it through the gates. “Make that forty-seven.”
Three spots left.
But we’re here, just feet shy of the entrance. We race forward. Kira’s through first. Zane’s next. I leap—
And am dragged back by my braid, that’s gone loose from its pins. My head rings as it bounces off the stone. One of Cadoc’s friends. I’m too late. He’s about to walk through. He’s about to be the fiftieth.
All of this … for nothing.
I watch from the ground as Zane does the unthinkable. He strides back through the gates—and shoves the man off the side of the bridge.
I look up at him, stunned. Zane just reaches out a hand. “Everyone deserves a chance to die a brutal death,” he says.
I take his hand.
And we both walk through the gates.