Chapter 12
Each of the gods created their champions and Godforged in different ways.
All those ways were painful. All of them tore at the fabric of who the person was before they were altered.
It seems to be a universal law that change and growth are painful, and drastic changes require drastic amounts of pain.
~Rhaskar Thorne, Book Two of the Priests
Fiona
It’s hard to run when I can’t stop seeing Bram’s eyes go dark, but I keep going. The tears are gone, though. Instead, I clench my jaw, ignoring the fact I should breathe through my mouth. I may be getting less air, but right now, it’s anger that fuels me.
The moon is directly above me, and I can see everything clearly now. I don’t know how long I’ve run at this point. I know I’m racing the moon, but I don’t know where the finish line is.
The duskthorn trees press close to me so that if I’m not paying attention and stray too close to the edge of the Shadow Road, their thick spines will cut into me. My new cloak already shows signs of where it’s been caught.
I’m thankful I’m only wearing leather plates for armor instead of the heavy plate or chain mail that so many other competitors wore. I hope their burdens will keep some of the best warriors from surviving this trial.
Suddenly, the forest opens into another clearing with the Road passing clearly through the center. Unlike the last one where Bram and Cedric had been, this is… strange.
What looks to be a dinner table stands just a few paces from the Road. At the table are three people, a man and woman in their early twenties and a child barely five years old. Unlike the last clearing, they don’t seem to notice me as I stand on the Road and stare at them.
Where do I know them from?
The man glances around, his eyes passing right through me as though I’m not here. “I think he’s found out about our deal. About his touch.”
The woman’s eyes open wide. “Then we must leave. Immediately. There’s no way he’ll leave her with us. He’ll find us, and he’ll kill us. He needs anyone with his touch.”
The man looks at the little girl with messy hair who’s eating a bit of bread and stew. “Tomorrow then. I thought we’d be happy here. I thought we could live in peace. Finally. I guess we’re never going to do that, are we?”
I watch in rapt silence as the man stands up and walks around to the little girl, who looks up at her father. He picks her up and says, “Come here, Asha. Did you hear us?”
The little girl runs her hand through his curly red hair before saying, “We have to leave again?”
“Yes,” he says with a smile, but there are tears on his cheek. “We have to leave in the morning.”
The little girl just smiles. “That’s okay, Dada. I like it when we leave. Can I take my doll?”
He lets out a little chuckle and nods his head. “Of course. Emily would be so sad if you weren’t there to take care of her.”
The man sets his daughter back in her chair, and she goes right back to eating her stew.
He glances from her to his wife, and his wife’s face is one of fear.
Without warning, a crossbow bolt erupts from her chest. Shock coats his face for half a second, and then another bolt erupts from his chest as well.
He falls to the ground, dying instantly.
“Dada? What’s wrong, Dada?” the little girl whispers.
And everything disappears. Unlike the last clearing, this seems specifically to be a vision rather than something interactive.
It’s strange. I feel connected to the scene, and yet I don’t know why.
Was it a story I heard somewhere? A play I watched when I was younger?
My father and tutors certainly didn’t hide violence from me.
It eats at me, but I don’t know why. I shrug my shoulders and turn back to the Road.
A quick glance up at the sky makes me run just a little faster, even as my mind keeps going through what I just saw.
Truthfully, I’m thankful for the strange vision.
That one may have been terrible, but it’s nothing compared to killing Cedric and Bram.
In the distance, I can make out something even stranger, though. Something white that’s on the Road. I pick up my pace even though my muscles are burning. As I draw closer, the object becomes more obvious. It’s a bench exactly like the quartz one I arrived in this strange world on.
The duskthorns have circled around to close off any path through. Is this the end? Did I really finish the trial?
I look at the bench and consider sitting down. I look up at the moon again to see where it is, and I realize that it’s still only slightly half-way across the sky. Did I really finish the trial with half the night to spare?
The thought is tempting, especially with how torn up my emotional state is. My body isn’t in much better shape after running for half a night. Then I notice that the Road goes all the way to the edge of the duskthorn trees where the long thin branches covered in spines tangle into brambles.
I try to look through the thicket and can’t see the other side of it. I get down on my hands and knees to look under it.
A soft glow comes from deep within them.
“Burn it all to ash,” I mutter. The Road doesn’t end here.
It’s just a trick. I step back and raise my hands.
Nyxthos knows that I’m a Priest, or at least that I’ve trained as one, if Azric’s correct.
Trying to hide my powers from him probably won’t work.
Plus, he knew my last name was Thorne, so I’m sure he’s put together that I’m Rhaskar’s daughter.
I feel the Phoenix on my breast burn bright red, and dragon’s fire explodes from my hands.
It pours over the duskthorn, hot enough to at least partially melt stone.
The trees aren’t affected at all, and other than a few small bits of grass catching flame, it’s as though I had never used my Mark at all.
In Nyth, they would have burned, but we’re not in Nyth any longer. I need to find another way around them.
I look up at the trees rising high into the darkness above me. Duskthorn trees can grow to be enormous, getting as tall as fifty feet. Maybe I could climb the brambles in front of me, but maybe not. And how long would that take?
With a deep breath to prepare myself, I pull my cloak down over my head.
I doubt it’ll help very much, but anything’s better than nothing.
I pull an Infusion of the Boar from my cloak pocket and quickly down it.
Thick fur grows over my skin as it thickens and becomes less sensitive.
Trusting my armor to protect everything important, I put my hands over my eyes and bow my head to further protect them.
Then I push myself forward. I could have used a large blade to cut through them if I’d had something other than my daggers. Sadly, there isn’t a blade much worse suited for cutting through brambles than a dagger.
The spines of the duskthorn tree cut and pierce my skin.
The Boar does its job and lets me endure it.
None of the branches this low are especially thick, and I grit my teeth as I wedge myself through them.
One very thick thorn goes all the way through my hand, coming out the other side, and I gasp in pain.
As I take another step, the branch it was attached to bends at a different angle, and the thorn slides out of me as easily as it slid in.
I can feel the spines mostly brushing up against my armor and tearing at my cloak. The ones that find weak points leave scratches rather than piercing, like the one that went through my hand. But the entire process is miserable.
Step by step, I endure the torment until I’m on the other side, and the last long needles leave my body.
I open my eyes and take a deep breath. Another piece of the trial is done.
I consider drinking an Infusion of the Lizard to heal my wounds, but I decide against it.
It’d leave me vulnerable for at least thirty minutes, and that’s the last thing I need.
I close my eyes for a moment as exhaustion catches up to me. After all the running, the emotional turmoil, and now the pain, I feel like I could lie down on the cobblestones and pass out. I feel myself slowly falling forward as if to do exactly that.
I shake my head and bounce in place, trying to stay awake like I would if I’d been at home and been forced to endure a lack of sleep. But it doesn’t help. I’m in the middle of a life or death trial, and my body’s trying to give in to sleep? Why would it…
Then I realize what’s happened. The duskthorn spines had poison on them.
There are a thousand different plants that will cause someone to become drowsy.
I pull an Infusion of the Tortoise from my cloak and drink it down, hoping it will work fast enough to counter whatever poison is flowing in my veins.
My eyes open wide almost immediately. The Tortoise is like drinking lightning.
It’s unending energy, pure and simple, and there’s no way you can fall asleep while it’s active.
You will stay on your feet. Then again, as soon as it’s out of your system, you will pass out, and no one will be able to wake you.
I start running immediately. I need to finish this thing, and I need to do it soon. If I’m not at the end of the Road by the time the Tortoise wears off, I’m dead.
And that’s when the screeches begin. Like some kind of enormous birds of prey, they come from all around me. Even though the moon is still a quarter of the way to the other horizon, the world seems to have grown darker.
I see flashes of movement in the sky all around me, and I keep running, hoping I’ll come to the end of this trial soon.
I know I could take an Infusion of the Falcon or Bear to move faster, but for the first time in my life, I understand Thomas Wellen, the Priest in that little village right outside of Averna.
I can’t leave Braemarch to restock my supplies. Already, I’ve used too many Infusions.