Chapter 11
Nyx
“I have to say, this is my favorite flavor of forest so far,” Talon says, tipping his head up and looking at the trees that tower far above us.
This morning, when we packed up our campsite and left that little cave behind, the forest quickly shifted, the trees getting taller and wider until some of them were so large you couldn’t take them in all at once.
It makes the world feel impossibly huge, and even Thorian looks like a doll amidst them. Their foliage shades the forest floor from the sun, which attempts to blaze down angrily on us overhead.
“Sequoias,” Fenric breathes, running his hand over one of the trunks. “I’ve read about them before, but they’re not native where I’m from. They’re breath-taking.”
“Have the two of you bullied him sufficiently about this whole…thing?” Talon asks, circling his finger and gesturing to all of Fenric, who returns a foul gesture, which makes me laugh.
“Only Thorian has,” I say, to which Thorian protests, until I remind him of calling Fenric a nerd before, when he was first telling us about the plants.
“Okay, fine,” Thorian grumbles. “But it clearly wasn’t enough, or he would have stopped.”
Fenric gently smacks the side of the tree. “How could any man be embarrassed about being good with plants? That’s like being embarrassed about being good with a sword. Real men love plants.”
“Real men love plants,” Talon mocks quietly.
I give Talon a look, but he doesn’t stop grinning.
“Hey, I like it, Fenric,” I say, tucking my hand into his arm and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, which quickly brings a flush to his face. “There’s nothing hotter than being smart.”
“You like this plant shit? I’ll tell you all about them, sweetheart,” Talon says, dancing ahead of us and walking backward, smirking. “If that means I’ll get a kiss, too.”
“No kisses for bullies,” I tease, heart fluttering.
Last night, I wasn’t completely convinced Talon even wanted my kiss. But now, here he is, asking for another.
“Well, that’s just discrimination,” Talon says, his eyes darting back and forth between Fenric and me. Somehow, he’s able to walk backward without a hitch, not even stumbling or tripping on roots.
"What would you know about discrimination?" Thorian counters, and Talon's expression tightens for the briefest moment before he covers it up, swinging around and falling into step beside Fenric.
“You’d be surprised,” he says, managing to keep his voice light. “I imagine that’s something Fenny and I have in common.”
“Don’t call me that,” Fenric says, as he has to all of Talon’s ridiculous nicknames. He tried to call Thorian “Rian” this morning and nearly got his head lopped off. Again.
“I bet we all have more in common than you’d think,” I say, glancing over at Thorian. I’m reminded of the thought I had yesterday, that we’re all running in these games, whether towards or away from something.
“Such as?” Fenric prompts, and I slip my hand off his arm, then hold both of my arms up as though painting a picture for them all to see.
“Well,” I say, using my thumb and finger to approximate a frame. “Think of it… we all entered, and we all want to win the Trials. And each of us, no doubt, wants the spoils to improve our lives after the contest. Even if the spoils are a sister returned home.”
“You paint with a broad stroke,” Talon teases, but Fenric is nodding.
“That’s true,” he says, tilting his head. “And by going through the Trials in the first place, we’re already members of a very selective group.”
“I plan to live in the countryside,” Thorian says, surprising me by sharing. He doesn’t make eye contact when he speaks, but we all listen. “Away from the city and the noise. Raise my own animals. Rely on others as little as possible.”
“Sounds bleak,” Talon jokes.
Giving Talon a look, I respond. “I want to return to my family’s manor. Bring it back to its former glory. Take care of the people on our lands and reward them for their loyalty. Everyone will be fed and happy, and we’ll have parties whenever we want, with dancing, desserts, and laughter.”
I think, but don’t say out loud, that I could be just like a woman I once met, Lady Fairewreth, with her gaggle of husbands all fussing over her.
I could have handsome men at every corner, waiting for their turn to get a dance.
Maybe those husbands could even be a stubborn man with dark features, a blond vampire, and an auburn-haired berserker.
Talon glances at me curiously, and I wonder if he can hear the blood rushing to my cheeks. I wonder if he can sense what I’m picturing and knows how crazy the thought is.
“Well, I want something similar,” Fenric says, taking his own swing at it. “A nice, big house of my own. A place for my mother, father, brother, and sister. Enough power that they’ll never be threatened again.”
“Everyone wants a large house.” Talon grins at me. “But I want an impressive house. And enough land that you could get lost in it. I’ll never get my actual family lands back, but I want to have a house and land that live up to the glory of my old home and name.”
“With, of course, your basement full of thralls,” Thorian mutters, and Talon points at him.
“There it is.” He swings back to me, eyebrows jumping. “The discrimination.”
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t want a basement full of…thralls?” Fenric asks, sounding worried that he might risk becoming one of them, with the question.
“I haven’t drank from a human in…” His gaze skips to me, and I flush again, thinking of that moment in the garden, his tongue on my finger, the taste of me in his mouth. “Well—” he amends, shrugging, “I don’t feed from humans unless it’s for intimate reasons.”
“You…don’t?” Thorian says this like he doesn’t believe it.
“The last time I did, it was a strange little cult that wanted me to do it,” Talon says, and for the first time, his veneer of humor fades slightly, so I can just make out his anger beneath. “Not all vampires are ravenous carnivores, just salivating for a bite.”
“Sorry,” Fenric says, raising his hands. “I didn’t mean to offend—”
Thorian grunts, which is the closest to an apology Talon will get from him. Sighing, Talon pinches the bridge of his nose. “I suppose if we’re going to finish this competition together, it’s better that we get all this preconceived nonsense out of the way now.”
Fenric glances at me, and I know what he’s thinking: an invitation to question a vampire. His inquisitive little heart is probably bursting with the possibilities.
But before Fenric can forge ahead and start his interview, the sky changes.
It happens fast, mirroring what happened after the cemetery. One moment there's sun filtering through the canopy, warm and dappled, and the next it's simply gone, swallowed by clouds that roll in from nowhere, dark and heavy and moving with a purpose that has nothing to do with weather.
“That’s not good,” Thorian says, halting in his walking and looking up, brow creased. I watch his throat bob for a moment before he looks back at us, his eyes narrowed. “That’s not good at all.”
“You all are far too attached to the sun,” Talon says, waving his hand dismissively and continuing along on the path. “It’s just some cloudy weather—”
At that moment, a roll of thunder booms across the forest, and I swear it shakes the ground beneath our feet. Talon and Thorian reach out at the same time to steady me, then make eye contact before letting go simultaneously.
I would laugh if the wind wasn’t starting to whip, leaves raining down from the trees, critters scurrying to find cover.
“We need to find cover!” Fenric says, but Thorian is already shaking his head, gesturing for us to hurry.
“He’s going to justify it as herding us to the next trial,” Thorian shouts over the growing roar of the wind and thunder rioting above and around us. “But it’s really just a chance for him to fuck with us!”
The sky opens and rain starts to fall down on us.
It's the same relentless, cruel rain as before, seeming almost designed to make us miserable. Rather than coming on in a slow trickle and building over time, it’s like having buckets of water thrown at you from all directions.
Like stepping directly into the path of a hurricane.
The clouds quickly darken the area, making it look like night in the middle of the day. The only source of illumination is the occasional lightning that rips across the sky, flashing brilliantly for a moment and dissipating in the next.
I squint my eyes and catch someone’s hand, Talon’s, as we struggle ahead on the path. We’re both drenched, but his hold is firm, and I can make out the vague forms of the other guys near us.
A deep, creaking groan sounds to our left, and at first, I think it’s thunder.
That is, until one of the massive sequoias starts to move, its form hazy through the rain, and we scramble to get out of the way as it crashes down, like a giant falling to its knees before me.
The earth trembles with the shock of the impact. A set of arms wraps around me, strong and sure.
“Nyx!” Thorian bellows, and Talon calls back, “I’ve got her!”
Trembling as Talon gets us moving again, I add, “I’m okay!”
But I have no idea if Thorian can make out the sound of my voice through the storm, the wind and rain, the stinging of branches and pebbles flying through the air around us, and the rumbles of the ground, still shaking below our feet.
“It’s a quake!” Talon says, and though he must be shouting, his voice is muted to me, even though he’s just behind me. I make out Fenric’s shape in front of me, fighting against the wind, his head bowed, and I try to reach out to him, but can’t make contact.
“Stay together!” Thorian yells, his voice somehow the only thing that can clearly break through the din. I have no idea how we’re supposed to follow his instructions when I can’t see him, the debris and water like a blizzard around us.
The ground pitches again, and Talon catches me before I fall. I’m panting, muscles straining, skin stinging.
It’s at this moment that his words sink in. It’s a quake.
“Fenric!” I shriek, pushing magic up and through my body to elevate my voice, and it actually works. Fenric turns just in time, while trying to maintain his footing, to see the great crevice splitting the ground open.
Talon yanks me backward, into the brush and away from the fissure, with Fenric on the other side. It opens like a great mouth, rocks sticking out in a jagged pattern like hungry, dripping teeth.
Fenric meets my gaze, wide-eyed.
I’ve never seen anything like this before in my life. I’d only read about them in books. The ground is splitting open between us, growing faster with each passing moment.
“Jump!” Talon calls to Fenric, but the berserker clearly can’t hear us.
The gap grows larger, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like Fenric is going to be stuck on the other side of it. Then, as though appearing out of thin air, Thorian comes running at a full speed behind him, roaring with anger and running nearly as fast as Talon.
“Jump!” he commands, and Fenric obeys instantly, leaping into the air over the crevice. Time stops, Fenric suspended, Thorian launching across the crevice behind him, looking for all the world like the two of them aren’t going to make it.
Then, Thorian connects with Fenric, and his velocity propels both of them over the break in the earth.
“Go!”
It’s Thorian again, screaming for us to run, and he doesn’t have to tell us twice. We turn and sprint blindly ahead, away from the massive trees and through the storm. My body is both hot and freezing at once, and my leathers, now sopping wet, chafe angrily against my skin.
The storm only begins to calm when we exit the forest and approach a cliff, the rain dying down, like the last dying breaths of a beast determined to catch and kill you.
We collapse.
I suck in breath after breath, but nothing seems to fill my lungs.
Nothing eases the aching in my muscles, and now that the adrenaline is starting to fade, I can feel the cuts on my arms and legs, and bruises from objects hitting me.
My hair sits on my head like a wet sweater, the braid like a rope from the water and scattered through with twigs and leaves.
“Fuck,” Talon wheezes, falling on his back and looking up at the sky. “And here I thought my father was a son of a bitch.”
Thorian says nothing, but picks a few twigs from my hair. When I notice the berserker is quiet, I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to catch his attention. “Are you okay?”
He flashes me a wan smile. “We wouldn’t have made it if it wasn’t for Thorian.”
“Well, that’s why we have a team,” Thorian grumbles, shooting Fenric a look as he stands and steps away from us. “You got us through the swamp.”
“And you find us food,” I add, placing my hand on his chest.
Relaxing slightly, he puts his hand over mine. We lay quietly next to each other for a few minutes. Catching our breath. Calming our racing hearts. Telling our bodies to relax, that we survived.
“If the two of you are done having your moment,” Talon says, standing up and stretching, his gaze pointedly at the edge of the cliff, carved through this valley long ago by wind and water, “I think our fearless leader is charting the course head.”
I sigh. The urge to rest is overwhelming, but then I think of my sister. There will be time to rest when she’s safe.
Slowly, we all join Thorian at the edge of the cliff.
A little ways down, there’s a long, thin bridge stretching from one side of the canyon to the other.
If I wasn’t purposely looking, I wouldn’t have seen it, since it’s more like the drifting remains of a spiderweb than a structure that could support the weight of an adult.
“Gods,” Fenric mutters, running his hand over his face, “the weapons.”
I look harder, eyes straining, and realize what he’s talking about. There are tiny, doll-like pieces of metal littering the floor of the canyon, along with bleached white splinters.
Weapons and the bones of those who tried crossing the bridge before.
“But why would they fall?” Talon questions, eyeing the bridge carefully. “Sure, it’s precarious, but—”
He’s cut off by a great crack through the sky, the air charging with an electrical current I can taste, bright and bitter, on my tongue. Throughout the canyon, lightning begins to strike, cracking against the ground and leaving large black scorch marks.
One strike hits the bridge directly in the center, sending it swaying from side to side roughly, like a boat tossed about in an angry sea.
“Oh,” Talon deadpans. “That’s why.”
“I’m not a betting man,” Thorian sighs, “but I’d wager that’s the next trial.”
Stupid gods.