Chapter 9
Chapter nine
A little voice in the back of my head is telling me to turn around and run. Okay, maybe not so little. More like a bellow demanding I obey.
The only problem is I’ve never been good at being obedient.
Instead of listening, I pull my sleeve down to cover the wet blood on my wrist and take a deep breath of fresh air, expanding my lungs to absorb as much as possible.
I have a feeling, after entering the twisted passageways within these musty walls, that as soon as the doors shut behind us, fresh air will be the first thing I crave.
Finnley’s sharp gaze pulls away from the entrance of our next trial to look at me in question. “You ready?” he asks softly.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I whisper, nodding my head slowly.
I’m forcing myself to be numb. Emotions tangle everything up, and chaos ensues.
The moment we step through the doors, they immediately shut behind us, sealing us in with a resounding thud and effectively cutting off any means of escape. A feeling of immense claustrophobia washes over me. I force it down, along with my fear, and allow my eyes to adjust.
There are stairs that lead downward, spiraling in their descent. Cautiously, I step on the first one. The cracked stone covered in moss makes it slippery. The air is stale and still, as if nothing has stirred in quite some time.
Finnley’s heavier footsteps follow behind.
The stairs wind down to another level, where there are east-and west-facing arches. Both are covered with intricate ruins that appear ancient, as if this place has endured through centuries and withstood tribulations we could never understand.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and every nerve ending in my body is on high alert.
It’s too calm.
Too still.
Squinting up at the writings, Finnley rubs his hand across the ruins. A few stone pieces crumble and fall beneath his touch. He jumps back before they have a chance to land on his head.
The walls may appear to be steadfast and still standing, but they’re delicate from age. Or maybe it’s not steadfast at all and is trying to lure us into a false sense of security.
I trust nothing here.
“What’s it going to be, Lieutenant? Are we going left or right?” he asks over his shoulder.
Oh, so we’re pulling the rank card. For a second, I forgot I had that responsibility. How kind of him to remind me.
I walk up beside him and let my eyes roam over the delicate arches.
Both are identical in nature. The only difference is that they sit on opposite sides.
Why can’t one have like a giant snake ruin or something to give us some kind of hint of which way not to go?
I can’t help but feel like either choice is the wrong choice.
What if there isn’t a right option and one is just the lesser of two evils?
The question is which is the lesser evil.
“We go right.”
“I would have gone left,” he deadpans.
“Well, I can’t change it now! They always say to go with your first choice and follow your gut, so now I’m obligated to go right.” I would be pissed if I changed my mind and went left, only to die because of my indecisiveness.
He smiles at the look of horror on my face and the fact that I am indeed second-guessing my decision. “I’ll go first. Follow me,” he says, ruffling my hair again as he passes by.
I scurry after him. “That’s not very lieutenant-like of me to let you go first.”
“Tough, because you’re not going in front of me,” he states in a matter-of-fact tone, like it’s the end of the discussion.
I grip his elbow, forcing him to turn back toward me.
Indignation is plastered across my face, making it clear just what I think of his demands.
“Listen, I’m going to pick my battles here, but just remember our lives are intertwined in this place.
So regardless of you wanting to be a hero, by you going first, it only means if something is lying in wait for us, you’ll just die first, and I’ll be next. ”
“Fair point. But I’m still going first.” He looks down at my hand on his elbow, raising a brow.
I sigh and drop his arm. I’ll forfeit this one, but if he thinks I’m going to back down to every order he issues during this trial, he’s wrong.
I follow him cautiously as we go through the east arch.
I make my footsteps as light as possible.
Who knows? Maybe we can just sneak our way through this without anything even knowing we’re here.
I haven’t heard any screams or voices of other prospects.
To be honest, I haven’t heard anything except the soft sound of our boots on the stone floor.
I wonder if they incorporated some kind of magical weave within this space to block out any trace of the others participating in the trial. It would make sense. I can’t imagine they would like groups of us working together. Or dying together, for that matter.
The army does need soldiers after all.
I keep close to Finnley. It’s so quiet I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
He holds up a finger, cueing me to stop behind him.
I peer around his arm, the walls so close on each side of us that I can’t make out much. The only thing I can see is that it gets very dark up ahead, and any light provided by the sky is about to be completely blocked.
I grab his arm with both hands and stand on my tippy-toes so I can whisper in his ear. “Should we turn around?”
“What happened to always going with your first choice?” he drawls.
My gaze keeps flitting back to the dark tunnel ahead of us. I’m not too proud to admit when I’m wrong.
I shake my head and angrily whisper, “Maybe we make an exception just this one time!”
“No, I think we stick with the original plan.” He speaks in a calm tone, not a trace of self-doubt to be found. “I think you were right when you said we shouldn’t second-guess our gut feeling. That may be very well what keeps us alive in here.”
Let’s hope so.
I admire that he can be authoritative yet also listen to my suggestions. Hopefully, that very same attribute doesn’t bite us in the ass. I lower my heels back down and take my place behind him. “Oh, one more thing. How are we going to see in there?” I whisper-shout.
He glances over his shoulder, pressing his index finger to his mouth, indicating I should probably lower my voice. “We’re not. We’ll have to go by touch.”
A sardonic chuckle slips free. It just gets better and better.
A part of me was scared he was going to say that. I grab the back of his shirt with one hand and pat my thigh to make sure my dagger is still in place with the other.
It takes us mere seconds to be fully submerged in darkness.
I hold Finnley’s shirt in my hand with a death grip. He’s not getting away from me. I’m following so closely that I’ve stepped on the back of his heels numerous times, but he hasn’t said one word about it.
This kind of darkness is absolute. My eyes are fully adjusted at this point, and I still can’t see anything. I can’t even make out Finnley’s form in front of me. It would be damn near impossible to find each other if we got separated.
The thought makes me want to jump out of my skin.
He reaches back and grabs the hand not tangled up in his shirt, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Neither one of us talks. It feels detrimental to our survival to make unnecessary noise when we can’t even see what’s coming at us.
Honestly, though, maybe this is it. Perhaps we just have to work our way through unfavorable circumstances when they rob us of each of our senses. That wouldn’t be so bad. Especially with Finnley by my side.
His presence is the only thing making this bearable.
We continue through the passageway at a slow and steady pace. It feels like it goes on forever, but we’ve probably only been walking through it for a couple of minutes.
After a while, the path beneath our feet begins to curve upward, and eventually, small beams of light shine ahead. The light is subdued as the sun is completely blocked out by dark clouds, as usual, but it’s enough that we have to shield our eyes with the back of our hands as we emerge.
We come to another fork in the path to choose from. This time, we have three arches to pick from. Each one is identical, but with more ruins decorating the rims. The only difference is that one lets a bit more light through than the other two.
I blow out a breath and glance over at Finnley. His curls are messy and sticking up in different directions like he’s been running a hand through them.
“Does any certain one call out to you?” he asks without taking his eyes off the archways.
Not even a little. In fact, they all scream at me not to enter. To tuck tail and run back the way we came. “Nope, and if we’re playing this fair, it’s your turn to pick.”
Nodding like he’s come to a decision, he finally looks at me. He bites his bottom lip like he’s nervous to say his choice. “Rock, paper, scissors, it is,” he suggests in a rushed tone. He’s now fully facing me and holding a fist in the flat palm of his other hand.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Absolutely not,” I respond.
“Worth a shot.” He sighs, running a hand down his face. “Okay, let’s go with this one,” he counters, looking toward the archway that has some light coming through. “I don’t know about you, but I’m over not being able to see shit.”
“Agreed.”
We step through the arch, and I move up to walk beside him as the pathway is much larger than the one we just came through.
There isn’t a ceiling on this part of the maze like in the other corridors, but it’s also colder here than it was inside. I pull my sleeves down to try to cover my hands as much as possible, and the fresh cut on my wrist stings as I do so.
Finnley blows small rings of air out of his mouth into the cold air. “Cold as a bear’s ass in winter out here,” he mutters while rubbing his hands together.