Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MADOC
M eri strides toward us with Lux and Aamon by her side. She doesn’t see the younglings following in the shadows behind her, nor the warriors of the hunt studying her closely. Her ability to adapt and find joy in any environment used to puzzle me, but after visiting a few of her many different homes, I know it’s how she coped and found a little beauty in her life.
The relief on Cormal’s face is almost comical. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Seeing Aamon’s new place and meeting his friends,” she replies, deliberately rolling her eyes. “How are you doing?” She scans my face as if she’s trying to delve below the surface, but I don’t dare show her how much I’m dreading the gauntlet.
“Ready to go home,” I growl, needing a reminder of what comes after this. The four of us. Together.
Rivan comes up and joins us.
“We’re going to need to find a place,” she pertly informs me. “Several places, actually. Cormal needs a sinful city with lots of secrets. Rivan needs to breathe and fly. You need less technology and lots of swords. All those homes need to also have a fantastic rooftop for us to peer at the stars.”
“What do you need?” Rivan questions softly.
“I need all of you,” she answers before looking at me. “So, go, run the gauntlet. Do not let them take you down. And don’t forget to think outside the box. Got it?” Her voice is sharp and full of determination.
“Keep your shield up,” I order her. “It’s not like I’ll be able to come to your aid.”
She moves into my arms and presses her lips to mine. “I’m quite obsessed with you, you know.”
I press my forehead to hers, then slip on the meanest, surliest look I own.
“It’s time,” Odin informs me. “Here are the rules. No shields. You cannot use magic to dull the pain. No fighting back. Ten lashes delivered one at a time by weapon, hand, or claw. You must make it past the line at the end. Good luck.”
Basically, walk the gauntlet, let them strike me ten times, get to the finish line. Got it. I clasp arms with both Rivan and Cormal. “If something happens…”
“Shut the fuck up,” Cormal snarls. “Tell me the rules again.” He nods as I repeat the words Odin gave me.
Rivan claps me on the back. “The runes will kick in the second you finish to ease the pain.”
Meri sends Lux and Aamon to join the crowd on the sidelines. “Whatever you do, don’t interfere.” They both promise to stay put.
Not wanting anything to get embedded in the wounds, I remove my shirt and pants. I hear the crowd point and whisper, but unlike most of the Fae, they appreciate the scars on my body. Warrior, I hear them say. I lift my chin and walk to the start line.
The bells strike midnight. When the last one tolls, I step onto the gauntlet. Neither looking right nor left, I stare straight ahead, desperately wanting to brace against the first hit but knowing it will only make it worse. Loosening my muscles, I hear the sound of a heavy chain whooshing through the air.
Wrapping around my arms and torso, barbed spikes embed themselves in my skin. The chain tightens, then loosens, dropping to the ground, leaving sheer agony in its wake. Blood flows like a river to my feet. Breathing through the pain, I swallow several times to give myself something to do besides scream. First hits are always the hardest, right?
Exhaling, I loosen my muscles and step forward again. There is no sound or warning this time. Four sharp points embed themselves in my shoulder and swipe diagonally across my back. Claws. Deep too. The night air slips into the furrows left behind going at least an inch deeper than the skin left intact.
Mother fucker. Son of a bitch. The litany of silent curses continues as I fight to keep my body loose and step forward again.
The gleam of metal flashes in front of me as the scythe slices across my chest, the curved hook doing the most damage as it catches on my side. The wielder grunts and jerks it out, leaving a gaping hole behind. I peer down and see a glint of white mixed in with the blood, tissue, and muscles. Are those my ribs?
Number fucking four.
I take a deep breath and step forward. Bright flames circle around me, then tighten around my calves, burning through the layers of skin and muscle. Gagging, I concentrate on keeping my food down. The wind blows through the gauntlet, and the cool night air brings a new level of excruciating punishment as it sweeps across the charred flesh. My legs weaken, but I lock my knees and thighs to keep myself upright.
Lasso of fire. I know who wields that weapon. Big, bald asshole. I picture myself wrapping it around his neck and tying it to the nearest tall tree. Fury fills me, eclipsing the pain.
Inhaling, I hold my breath, then slowly release it and step forward.
A large swoosh of air and pain explodes in the back of my head. Everything blurs. Stumbling, I fight to not step forward or go down.
Number fucking five was a bitch. My shoulders slump as the thought of five more hits like that one, or worse. Breathing in and out, I think of all I have endured to get to this point. Three thousand years in a pitch black hole tormented by my fellow inmates. Why? Because I was born to be king. The best rulers always have the hardest paths. I remind myself. It makes them a better leader. Look at Lucifer. Meri.
Straightening, I breathe in and take the next step. Water pours down on me in a deluge, stripping the air from my lungs, splaying my cuts wide open, running into every wound on my body, and driving nails into the burns with its piercing coldness. I wait for it to stop, but it doesn’t.
Breath running out, I step forward… into a shredding machine. Or at least that’s what it feels like. Hundreds of small cuts appear across my body. Jaw and fists clenched, I arch my back, trying to get away from the pain, but it’s everywhere, and all at once. Blood flows like a river to the ground at my feet.
“I’ll take the next hit,” Cormal’s voice rings out across the gauntlet.
Everything falls silent.
Odin’s booming voice rings out. “Madoc must run the gauntlet.”
“He is, and he will continue his walk to the end of the line, but nothing in the rules prevents me from taking the next one in his place,” Cormal argues.
“Let us confer,” Odin says, a note of irritation in his voice.
Voices rise and fall to my left. Swaying back and forth, I wait. At least the knives have stopped cutting.
“This is unprecedented, but you’re right, we didn’t make a rule against it,” Odin concedes gruffly. “Why are you doing this for him?”
“The bastard is family,” Cormal drawls. “I sure as hell didn’t pick him, but Meri did, so there you go. How is this going to work?”
Odin chuckles. “Meet him on the gauntlet. You step forward first and take the hit. He follows.”
Fury rises as he moves to stand next to me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Playing by the rules,” Cormal retorts. “Kind of surprised me, too. I’m usually looking to break them.” He takes a deep breath. “This is going to hurt like hell, isn’t it? Got any tips?”
“Why?” I press.
“Because you would do the same for me,” he states confidently.
He’s right. I would. “Don’t brace.”
Muscles loosen, and he steps forward.
I watch twin swords pierce each of his sides, skewering him in the middle. Veins pop out of his neck and colorful curses fill the air. He rises on his toes, as if to escape the pain. They retract, and he clamps a hard hand on each side as if he’s trying to hold in the pain.
I step to his side. “Brutal. You’re right. If I had to watch that six more times, I’d have stepped in too.”
Cormal’s voice is strained. “Honestly, not as bad as I thought. The scythe and club were much worse.”
“Is that what hit my head? Almost took me out,” I admit with a pained chuckle.
“I’ll take the next hit.” Rivan’s voice rings out in the night air.
“Mother fucker,” Cormal and I say in unison.
Odin curses. “Fuck me! This is the first gauntlet we’ve had in thousands of years, and you’re ruining it. We need to make stricter rules. Somebody write that down. Damn it. Go on.”
Rivan steps up beside us. “Can’t have you two taking all the glory. Plus, the big fucker taking the next hit appears entirely too happy.”
Tempted to look to my right, I turn toward Rivan instead and warn him, “Don’t brace.”
He flashes a broad smile. “Got it.” Taking a step forward, he waits.
Two large hands appear with metal claws attached. They embed themselves at his neck and shred his skin from his shoulders to his feet.
I wait for him to yell or curse or anything, but he’s completely silent.
When we step up next to him, there’s a painful smile on his face.
“The first time Meri and I met, Nyssa threw one of her tantrums. She hated my runes and the protection they provided against her. In her fury, she shredded my skin,” he confides, the darkness of the past straining his voice. “I didn’t want to regenerate because it would take me weeks to add them again. Meri understood. She stayed with me for three days until I healed.”
He turns his head toward us. “Leandra couldn’t have been too happy, but Meri never said anything about it.”
Sometimes I wonder if The Below was the better deal. Three thousand years of Nyssa and I would have been completely psychotic.
Odin’s voice calls out. “If you move from the line, you’ll have to start over. Do you understand?”
Confused, we all three look at each other and it hits us.
Meri’s voice carries across the gauntlet. “I…”
We step forward, taking the last hit together. Darts hit our neck. Seconds later, liquid fire courses through our veins, burning everything in its path.
“Step forward,” Rivan gasps. “You have to go first.”
In a haze, I move, and the second my foot touches the finish line, the pain disappears. The wounds are still there in all their gory glory, but the pain is gone.
Cormal and Rivan step forward and stop the platinum tornado hurtling herself toward us.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I whisper furiously at her. “Never. Do you hear me? I’ll never let you stand in and take a hit for me. I would rather die.”
Both Rivan and Cormal agree.
Meri laughs. “Never is a long time. Besides, the natives were getting restless.” She waves a hand to the ten on the sidelines. Monsters, warriors, and other creatures. “Who knows what they would have come up with next?”
Odin walks over to us. “Congratulations and all that. Unorthodox, but you made it. The power and crown are yours.”
He moves to Meri, and I tense. “The younglings enjoyed your visit today. They want you to come back.” His face is set as if he expects her to reject his invitation.
Meri’s eyes fill with tears, and Odin hurriedly steps backward.
“I would love to,” she says with a sniff. “Everybody needs friends, right?”
Odin looks nonplussed, and I laugh. “That’s how it starts. You’ll never get rid of her.”
She glares at me but turns to wave at the stands. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll return as soon as I can.”
Cormal mutters under his breath, cursing me and my unusual lineage.
Rivan steps to the side and regenerates, returning minutes later with smooth skin.
Cormal’s sides slowly knit themselves back together.
My skin tightens as the healing process starts, and I can’t help but be thankful for Rivan’s runes. If not, this would be near impossible to endure.
Odin steps in front of me, the orb of power in his right hand, and I realize this is the last step of the gauntlet. He slams it into my body. Scar tissue separates, opening a hole for the power. Ancient and dark, it warps and shapes itself, testing the boundaries around it, then settles in, waiting for me to call it forward.
Odin’s satisfied nod tells me he’s happy. “You’re strong like Konnyr. You’ll need it. The world is changing, leaving the old ways behind. The Fae need a leader who won’t be afraid to forge a new path.”
Lux skips over and takes Meri’s hand. “Are we ready to go?”
She looks at me, and I wave goodbye to Aamon. “Let’s go home.”