Chapter 11
Rosie
The pillars which emerged among the jagged spikes are flat topped and just broad enough for a man to stand on with both feet planted.
Some taller, some shorter, they are arranged so that one cannot step comfortably between them but must make a leap.
That leap, which would be impressive indeed for a dwarf, is still treacherous for the long-legged men below me.
At the king’s signal, the champions lunge forward into that pit, each choosing his own route across.
It’s broad enough that they need never encounter one another, but I do notice that Learned Majestic Rune follows close on the heels of Elis, studying his route, sometimes deviating from it slightly, but always coming back to it.
It’s not a bad strategy, as the two of them are of similar height, and what works for Elis should work equally well for Rune.
All is such a blur of motion, I struggle to follow what happens.
My eye naturally wants to go after Valtar, but he crosses the pit so quickly, it makes my head spin.
It’s as though he’s somehow been able to miraculously sniff out the easiest route and then simply walks across it in a steady, unhurried, but unfaltering stride.
Even Taigan hesitates somewhat, particularly when he must leap from a low pillar to a taller one.
A roar nearly stops my heart. I turn sharply and see Prince Bryon struggling.
He seems to have slipped from one pillar, but his powerful arms have caught another.
Bit by bit, he hauls himself back up, muscles rippling with strength and strain.
The spikes haven’t claimed him, not yet.
Blood hammers in my ears. While I don’t know any of these men, certainly not enough to feel any sort of attachment, I cannot bear the idea of any of them losing his life for my sake.
Valtar has reached the far side. In fact, he’s already halfway up what I had believed to be a sheer, glass-smooth wall.
How he’s doing it, I cannot guess, but somehow he makes progress, inch by inch.
Not quite as swiftly as he crossed the spike pit, but certainly faster than I would have believed possible.
I remember again how boldly he’d predicted his own victory over the entire championship when I asked him who he thought might beat Prince Taigan.
Apparently, it wasn’t an empty boast. So, if he proves true to his word, will he then become my… husband?
An image of Valtar standing over Joro’s slain body flashes across my mind. The warmth in my blood turns to frost.
Taigan makes it to the end of the pit second and lunges at the wall.
He too seems to know some secret to climbing that sheer surface.
Perhaps there are finger- or footholds I cannot see from this distance.
Regardless, Taigan looks determined not to let Valtar leave him in his dust. He climbs like a spider, a little too reckless to my eye, but gaining fast upon his rival.
Much to my surprise, Prince Warrick is the third across the pit.
I can see that his leg wound is already causing him difficulty, and yet he managed to navigate the pit more swiftly than the other three.
He stands at the wall, studying it intently, and makes no immediate move to climb.
Perhaps the secret is not so straightforward as I initially thought.
“It’s resonance,” Alderin says abruptly.
I turn to find him watching me with nearly as much interest as I have been watching the contest. “The wall gives off a peculiar resonance, almost undetectable to the human ear. If a man may still his center enough, even in the midst of stress, he may just detect the correct vibration, which reveals where otherwise-invisible handholds lie. It is a unique challenge.”
It certainly is. I wonder how many of the champions knew about it in advance, or if they are all simply expected to figure it out as they go.
Either way, Valtar is already at the top of the wall.
He looks small from this distance, poised at the brink of that terrible climb, looking down at whatever comes next.
I sense no hesitation or worry in his stance.
Merely cool and collected interest as he takes in the challenge.
And which challenge is it? I begin to turn to the mirrors on the wall behind me, but Alderin’s hand takes hold of my elbow.
“The other contestants,” he says, a low murmur, but with a hint of warning.
He tips his head, and I look to see how the courtiers of the other Belanor Kingdoms eye me.
Any sign of preference for one of the champions will not sit well with them.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I leave Valtar to his own devices.
It’s not as though I truly prefer him to the others in any case, and there’s much of interest to observe below.
Both Elis and Rune have reached the far side now.
Only Bryon continues to struggle, his great bulk not at all suited to a course built on a dwarfish scale.
Rune stands before the wall no more than half a minute, his head tilted a little to one side.
Then he surges forward and begins his climb, leaving both Elis and Warrick to stare after him, still struggling to discern the secret of the wall.
Rune is not as fast as either Taigan or Valtar, but he makes steady progress.
Taigan reaches the top of the wall. Valtar has already vanished, and Taigan doesn’t hesitate to follow, determined to catch up.
Now Alderin turns to the mirrors, eager to track his nephew’s progress.
He doesn’t protest when I join him. The mirror glass gleams, reflecting the image of the next challenge: a series of bridges leading at a disastrously steep downward angle from the wall over yet another pit of spikes.
By some engineering marvel, the bridges break apart at seemingly random intervals, turn, and reconnect in different configurations with one another.
It is a wonder to behold. I cannot believe it is done without magic—surely the dwarves must have derived some power from Lutumor, the Earth God, to make such a thing possible.
I search for Valtar in the mirror. The strange, refracted sunlight dazzles my vision, and I squint, stepping closer.
“Careful,” Alderin says. “Do not touch the glass.” Hastily I jump back a pace, and only now does Valtar’s image come into clarity.
I spy him just as the bridge he is descending breaks apart underneath him.
He falls. I clap a hand to my mouth, trying to stop my heart from escaping.
But Valtar turns gracefully in the air, catches the bridge as it pivots, his body swinging naturally along with it.
He makes it look so easy, so effortless!
Meanwhile, I can’t seem to swallow my heart back down where it’s supposed to be.
Taigan makes his way on another bridge. His movements are less fluid than Valtar’s, a little uncertain.
Alderin leans toward me and says, “His mother, my sister, commissioned the best engineers of Gorduin to rig collapsing and turning bridges to mimic this particular challenge. They were but poor copies of the original. Still, it gave him something to practice.”
An advantage, to be sure. The Learned Majestic appears at the top of the wall now, and Warrick follows quickly behind him.
Apparently, his limp didn’t impede his climb once he figured out the knack of it.
I wonder how many of them have been researching and practicing variations on this challenge in preparation for the trial.
It’s difficult to picture someone like Rune putting together an obstacle course in his temple library back home, but he is keeping up with the best of the contestants.
He begins his descent, soon catching up to Taigan.
Valtar has already reached the end of the third challenge.
He approaches the next stretch of the course: those awful turning stones set into the floor.
There are fifteen of them, all rotating at different speeds.
Some fatter, some thinner, lined up with only one narrow slab of solid flooring set in the middle of them.
They grind together like massive millstones.
One misstep, and a contestant’s bones will be pulverized to dust. Valtar seems to study the stones closely.
I can almost feel the gears of his mind turning, finding a rhythm.
Suddenly he springs into action. He’s so quick, so nimble, I can scarcely follow his flow of movement.
Progressing in perfect time with the stones, he finds his footing exactly in a moment of pause before leaping to the next.
Halfway across, he lands on the still platform, takes a breath or two, then continues.
He reaches the far side so quickly, I scarcely have time to be afraid for him.
“Ah, look!” Alderin’s voice draws my attention to where Taigan approaches the turning stones along with both Warrick and Rune, who have reached the end of the bridge challenge simultaneously.
Elis is only halfway down the bridges, while Bryon finally appears at the top of the wall.
I can’t help feeling sorry for the big Ulyon prince.
He is certainly an impressive specimen but unsuited to this particular form of athleticism.
Perhaps the second trial will more aptly showcase his prowess.