CHAPTER TEN
Our platform broke off into two paths. One lead to the wall of stone, and the platform of blades waited on the other.
From this close, I could see the wall of stone was not entirely bare. A dark, glistening substance dripped down its ragged surface. It would be all too easy to slip and fall. And there was no telling if the substance was poisonous to the touch.
Except the woman that had kept the vines at bay earlier seemed to have other ideas.
She stood at the foot of it with her allies, fingers writhing yet again.
Coaxing the vines from the last obstacle to grow at her will.
Their leaves sprouted up the platform and then up the wall itself, careful not to lay directly upon its surface.
“Is she allowed to do that?” Brannon asked once the vines stopped growing. She’d fashioned a way to climb the wall using the vines as a replacement for rope. A rope that allowed them to avoid getting the substance directly onto their skin.
She gestured for her three allies to climb, keeping her focus on the vines lest they decided to lash out or break from her control.
“If Maverick hasn’t said anything, then it would seem that she can.
” Frustration clawed at me. She made it all seem so simple.
That wall was the only thing between them and the star-like orb signaling the end of Strength.
The gap would be nothing more than an afterthought seeing as she could use the vines like a bridge.
“How are your affinities for earth magic?”
“Non-existent,” Kodhan stated plainly.
“Surely one of you can keep the vines in place. They have already grown to the necessary length. Just keep them still for a few minutes, that’s all we need.”
His stony facade broke. A deep scowl marred his features as he said, “What part of non-existent do you not understand?”
“Just because your ego cannot handle being slightly worse than others where another element is concerned doesn’t mean you have to be an ass about it,” I sniped.
Kodhan opened his mouth to reply, but Theia beat him to it. “Earth bests us three to none even on our best days, I’m afraid. Trust me when I say I would rather swing around on those vines than bleed on that other platform. But we can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I said tentatively, searching between them for any indication of—of what? None of it mattered. I had no right to press on the subject. I was far worse off than any of them. At least they had magic to begin with.
It wasn’t like others who had lesser affinities for earth wouldn’t have the same issue. We would all have to suffer through what lay to the right.
And suffer was a loose term.
A garden of sharp, jagged metal stood between us and the end of Strength. Mist, thicker than the vapor that had partially veiled Kodhan earlier, writhed and undulated across the platform, obscuring any safe way to get across without getting sliced from one misstep.
Movement caught my attention from afar, partially hidden behind layers of the mist. When I strained to see what caused it, it stopped.
I palmed Kodhan’s dagger on instinct, knuckles white with the force of which I gripped its hilt.
My very marrow warned me that something was coming. No, something was lurking.
My heart may have been absent of magic, but in its stead sat years of mistrust and endless hours of Gideon’s relentless instruction.
Since that first night where he’d practically dragged me into the weapon-lined training room by the collar of my shirt, he’d taught me how to always remain one step ahead of my opponent.
Be faster, he’d said, over and over. Be stronger. Smarter.
But Maverick was my opponent now. And as much as I wanted to be one step ahead of him, I knew he would always be five steps ahead of me.
We allowed two others to go ahead of us, their jittery movements betraying their nerves.
One of them kept glancing longingly at the stone wall, where the last of the four climbed with ease.
He shoved his ally forward when they hesitated before the invisible line marking shrouded blade from wood.
Fear lined his features, but it warped quickly into poorly concealed jealousy.
I bit back a scoff. Jealousy and fear did not mix well. It would kill them both before the rest of the trials could.
They continued on with an admirable control of fire—far from sputtering flames. The mist quickly turned them into nothing more than shadowy figures surrounded in a soft orange glow.
“We’ll need to go all at once this time,” Kodhan decided. “Stay close to me. If I put fire at your feet, it’ll just make things worse. I need to keep the fire at head level.”
Starting at his fingertips, fire roared to life along his arms, making its way upwards until it swelled above his shoulder blades.
Almost like wings, I thought. If someone were to paint him in that moment, flames curling around him, bathing his silhouette in red-gold hues amidst the claiming dark, it would be far too easy to mistake him for anything other than a god.
The colors above our heads shifted in the sky.
It was almost as if they were parting to welcome him among them.
Like he belonged there, bold and breathtaking.
For the split second that followed, the heat that swirled low in my core had nothing to do with flame.
Completely unphased by the casual demonstration of power, Brannon nodded.
“No arguing with that. I won’t bother trying to blow the mist away.
The king knows exactly how many of us can control the wind.
He would most likely bring it back tenfold.
Although…” he trailed off, watching the two men ahead of us as they struggled to avoid the blades.
One of them tripped but righted himself just before getting impaled through the stomach.
Another flash of movement caught my eye once more, this time close to the two men ahead. I hadn’t been mistaken. Something else was hidden on the platform.
Through the mist, at least a dozen round, glowing specks appeared.
“Shine some light over there,” I demanded, pointing towards the eerie specks.
Kodhan raised a brow. “Perhaps if you say please.”
“Just do it,” I snapped. Insufferable bastard.
Irritation flared behind his eyes, brighter than his magic. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t do it, just to spite me. But he obliged. With a lift of his flame-coated hand, he illuminated the first quarter of the platform.
A tremor shot down my spine, faster than any lightning strike.
They were not just specks. Those were eyes.
Six beasts, born of shadows and fairytales and nightmares all at once crept towards the two men—still completely unaware of the fact that they were no longer alone on the platform. They whispered feverishly between themselves, directing the other where to move, when to breathe.
Though the beasts’ limbs, wolfish in stature, rippled with the light, their massive claws audibly scraped across the ground as they prowled, with maws peeled back to reveal jagged teeth dripping with froth.
“Do you think they would heel if we asked them to?” Theia asked, a tad breathless.
“Maybe we should try asking them to sit first,” Brannon offered.
They slunk across the platform with ease. They knew the sharp bits of metal wouldn’t hurt them. Nothing could hurt them, not when they were insubstantial, incorporeal. The mist did not part for them. The mist became them, like they were one and the same.
A low, heavy snarl sent another wave of terror down my spine, encasing it with a stiffness that spread to my chest, holding my lungs hostage.
Both competitors whirled towards the sound instantly. But the jealous one’s calf caught on one of the spikes, tearing both material and skin. He cried out, though was smart enough to keep still.
It was enough to trigger the beasts. Their rippling bodies soared through air and blade, teeth already clacking together. Prepared to feast.
But instead of sinking teeth into flesh and bone, the beasts crashed into an invisible wall—no, disintegrated into it—only to reform once more. They attacked again and again, growling and snarling at the two competitors whose hands were now outstretched.
“A wall of wind,” Brannon scoffed. He crossed his arms defensively. “I already thought of that, obviously. I simply didn’t think it would work.”
Kodhan huffed, eyes rolling. “Obviously.”
Relentlessly, the beasts raged, pouncing right when the other failed.
Shadows couldn’t tire, after all. And judging by the way both competitors’ arms shook as they continued across the platform, gathering cuts and gashes along their legs like badges of war, they attacked with force.
With all their attention centered on the magic keeping their air-shield intact, they’d almost completely given up on their fires, navigating the spikes blindly.
“Blocking is one of the first things you learn to do with air. If they’re struggling, it means those wolves are strong,” Brannon explained to me, grimly.
“And you’ll be able to hold them off on your own?”
Brannon merely scoffed, as though the question in itself was an insult.
The two men made it across the platform in one piece despite the wounds they’d amassed from the waist down.
They were peppered with blood, but they’d survived.
I held my breath while they used that same air magic to glide across the yawning gap, and simultaneously reached for the orb.
Only for that same breath to wheeze out of my lungs as they vanished.
Transported somewhere else entirely by its magic.
Howling with rage, the beasts charged for the orb as well, only to snap backwards, as if pulled on by a tight leash.
“It’s now or never,” Brannon urged, and the four of us stepped forward, careful not to catch onto any metal. Already the tip of my boot nearly snagged a smaller blade concealed by the mist.
Fear—and a few cuts to the legs, would hurt less than death.
Brannon led the front, palms outstretched, his magic a steady circle around us.
Theia pressed closely to my side, and Kodhan held his ground right behind us, his fire lighting the way ahead.
He held out both hands now, the tall flames billowing back and forth like flags where they brushed against Brannon’s wall of wind.
Noses to the air, the beasts turned.
And were upon us in less than a second.
Brannon’s arms shook with the force of their attacks. It couldn’t be easy, constantly expelling the beasts all while repairing fissures they wrought to his invisible shield. “For snappy clouds, they’re certainly strong,” he grunted.
But despite being outnumbered six to one, he held fast.
Miraculously, we reached the three-quarter mark without any cuts or scrapes, the glow of the orb burning brighter with each step.
Three other competitors charged onto the platform already, believing the beasts distracted.
But they wouldn’t be fooled twice. Two of them broke off in pursuit.
Hunting an opportunity for potentially weaker prey.
No, not in pursuit. As a distraction.
It happened in an instant.
A short, surprised intake of breath.
A shout of warning.
Too slowly, I turned my head. Several rows of teeth snapped inches away from my face.
Rough hands shoved me, hard. Blades reached for my vital organs at an alarming speed.
Death beckoned with skeletal fingers. Like hoarfrost on a windowpane, it ran those bony hands across my skin, chilling my every nerve until I was nothing but a husk of ice.
No.
I gripped the hands of death. Dared it to come closer. Kodhan’s magic burned bright and true, and yet I saw nothing at all. Darkness, cold and unfeeling, became everything. Became me.
We shared breath, until we were one and the same. No. Not yet.
Skin tore. Blood gushed in a steady river.
Not. Yet.