Chapter 10 Seth
Seth
Ahorn blared across the arena, heralding the beginning of the death games.
Godsdammit. If I died here, the last thing I’d hear would be Eleos gloating inside my own head.
Dashing outside our chamber, I hugged the left wall, eyes locked on the western gate. Flames rushed across the arena as Seraphim summoned her blazing scythe.
Whips cracked at the north end as the chariot riders ordered their horses to ride. The spikes attached to the carriages’ wheels spun in a lethal whirl. If any of us got caught in them, we’d be torn apart.
Phaedrus’ voice echoed in my head. “Focus on the chariot with white horses—I can trip it up, leaving its riders defenseless.”
Glancing over the arena, I searched for the one he spoke of. It raced opposite me, careening around the eastern edge toward the other men.
“Seth.” Eleos’ voice was eerily calm. “Let us handle that. Bring the ladies this way. I have a plan.”
“You do?” Percy shouted.
“On it,” I thought back, gaze settling on the chariot approaching me.
Two powerful warhorses, covered in armor, pounded toward me. The chariot raked up dirt behind them as they pressed closer to the wall. A second chariot raced alongside them, covering the midfield.
A half-wall blocked off the center of the arena, and I glimpsed a black pit on the other side. Anyone who tried to escape that way would plummet to who-knows-where.
A sliver of safety appeared between the two chariots racing toward me: a mere pace separated their horses. Sprinting toward the center of the arena, I threw myself to the ground just as the chariots reached me. One screamed past, pulling up dirt and tossing it across me.
The second flew past on my other side, and I caught sight of the soldiers riding it. One spun around and hefted a javelin. Leaping to my feet, I raised my sword, managing to deflect the oncoming spear at the last moment.
Clashing steel rang in my ears. The next moment, the chariot was out of range.
How was I supposed to get Aethra to safety in this hellscape?
The drivers yanked the reins, turning their steeds around. Whirling on my heel, I raced for the western gate. Seraphim stepped out, grabbed my arm, and hauled me through the gap as the chariots tore past again.
“If we don’t commandeer one of those things,” Seraphim shouted, “We’re fucked!”
“Phaedrus said the same thing.” I looked past her, eyes landing on Aethra.
Seas. She looked horrible. Bloodshot eyes, tangled hair, and nasty bruises—someone had hurt her after we’d been separated.
“I need to get everyone together,” Aethra stammered.
“You and Eleos are in sync,” I said, studying the dark bruises on her shoulders. “But maybe you should stay here.”
“No.” She struggled to form the words. “The Oracle—she needs me to do something.”
Such in-eloquence was unlike her. The worst came to mind, and my hand tightened around my blade.
Dust fell from above, and the walls groaned. The spiked ceiling began to descend.
“I was wondering when that would happen,” Seraphim said. “We need to go.” She darted into the arena.
“Come on.” Aethra grabbed my hand and dragged me outside. “Stay close.”
Was the princess trying to protect me?
The three chariots had shifted their focus to the southern gate. Red vines burst from the ground, tangling themselves in one of the chariot’s wheels, but the spikes severed them, and the chariot pulled loose. With a crack of the whip, it continued its advance on Phaedrus’ and Eleos’ position.
At the last moment, the driver whipped his head around violently and yanked the reins, turning the chariot at a sharp angle. It crashed into its ally, throwing them both off course.
Eleos must have done something to the driver. He wavered, pressing a hand to his nose as blood seeped out.
The man had controlled a bloody hydra yesterday. He had to be at his limits.
Aethra ran ahead of me, seemingly unconcerned with the danger awaiting us. My gaze darted between her and the chariots as they pulled away from one another and circled around. There had to be a way to protect her.
Shit. I couldn’t shield her—they’d just run us both over.
“What about her?” Percy shouted in my head.
“What?” I thought, looking around for him. Where was he?
“Aethra? You keep shouting her name at us.”
Was I? Blood pounded in my ears. I couldn’t concentrate.
Aethra slammed into me and clutched my wrist. The driver Eleos had controlled recovered from his daze and yanked his reins, turning his wagon toward us.
An uncomfortable sensation wrapped around me. Stagnant air, unnatural silence. The ground cracked and splintered. A hole was rent in the earth, as though touched by the Empty. The horses swerved to avoid the danger, but the chariot’s wheels fell into the gap.
Bucking forward violently, the gilded carriage threw the men from their seats, and they landed to either side of the horses. Their steeds pulled the empty chariot loose from the ditch and continued galloping, nearly running their drivers over.
“Well,” Phaedrus thought, “not quite how I imagined it, but that’ll do.”
Perfect. Pulling from Aethra’s grip, I threw my sword toward one, managing to pierce his cloak and pin it to the ground, giving me time to reach him before he rose. Biting my knuckles, I drew more blood into a spear and brought it down on his neck.
He rolled over, blocking my strike with his gauntlet. My spear scraped off the metal, exposing me to a riposte. Grabbing a dagger from his belt, he lunged at my abdomen, and I backed off.
Retrieving his dropped lance, the knight rolled to his feet. Gripping the lance two-handed, he swung toward my head.
Blocking his swing, I pushed him off. Seraphim flew to my side, scythe swinging for the gap beneath his shoulder plates. Darting behind him, I avoided the end of his polearm and spun my spear around to drive into his back.
Surrounded, the knight dropped his weapon and raised his hands. Not willing to show him mercy, I lunged, but Seraphim caught the man’s neck in the curve of her scythe and yanked him away from me, tossing the man sideways where his helmet crashed into the dirt.
“I’m getting that chariot,” she announced, pushing past me and dashing after the empty vehicle.
A foolish move. These people didn’t deserve mercy. Spinning my spear to face down, I drove it between his neck and jerked it through to his helm.
Yanking my spear from the dead man, I searched the field. Aethra wasn’t where I’d left her. She had sprinted away and was nearly to the southern gate.
What happened to her insistence she’d run from battle, not dive into the thick of it! Stealing the dead knight’s dagger, I gave chase.
Percy rolled out from the southern gates moments before a violent tremor shook the ground, tripping Aethra up. The spiked ceiling in our cell must have fallen.
In perfect sync, the two remaining chariots rode north and whirled around, bearing down on the four souls trapped between them and the walls.
“Perse! Music,” Eleos shouted.
“Horses don’t understand dirges!” Percy thought back, shakily rising to his feet.
“Does that matter?”
“Yes! That’s how it works!”
“Why didn’t you say that before?”
Cursing, Eleos grabbed a fallen javelin and threw it toward the oncoming chariot. He nailed one of the wheels, and it stalled as the metal spear got caught in its spokes, sending the chariot spinning violently.
The other was upon Eleos before I could blink. I saw a flash of crimson and heard a crash, but couldn’t see behind the blur of hooves and steel.
Yanking the reins, the driver turned at the last moment, hugging the wall as he directed the horses toward me.
“Seth!” Aethra yelled, though I couldn’t see her.
I glanced left and right, trying to decide which direction to throw myself—and hoped for the best.
The unnatural sensation stifled the air again: The stillness and silence of the Empty.
The chariot’s back wheel splintered into dust, tossing the horses off balance. Tilting onto its side, the wagon flew off course.
Horses pounded past me, throwing a rush of wind across my face. Glancing back, I saw one of the soldiers riding it raise a javelin, his eyes locked on Aethra as she ran back to my side.
No! I closed the distance between us with three strides before throwing myself at her, hoping to shield her with my body. The javelin slammed into the back of my right shoulder, pitching us both forward. Aethra yelped in pain as she struck her back, and my full weight landed atop her bruised torso.
A faint prick of discomfort resonated in my back, but the pounding adrenaline washed the rest away.
Pulling myself off her, I reached back and yanked the javelin from my shoulder, wincing as another throb of pain radiated from the wound.
Fresh blood spilled from my back—this was going to hurt like hell later.
Raising my head, I saw Phaedrus standing before us, red vines loosely spinning around him, but Eleos was sprawled across the ground.
Had he been hit?
The chariot drawn by white horses—the one Eleos’ spear was lodged in—had finally righted itself. Calm despite the encroaching danger, Phaedrus raised an arm, and his vines followed, shooting across the field like a hail of arrows.
This time, they didn’t break. Rose vines wrapped around every spoke and wheel and tangled the horses’ legs in their grip. He yanked his hand back, and the carriage spun to a stop, tipping over from the sudden loss of balance.
Both chariots had been damaged, but their soldiers still lived—a pair to either side of us. Only a few paces separated me from the other men. Grabbing Aethra, I hauled her to her feet and readied my spear for the javelins that would surely be seeking our backs.
Horses screamed behind me. Spinning, I saw two chariots slam into each other, knocking the wheel-less carriage over. Seraphim rode the one Aethra had tipped earlier. Yanking the reins, she guided her steeds to our side and extended her hand.
Javelins whistled past her, one striking her arm, while the other slammed into one of her horses. The steed veered off course, carrying her away from us.
Straight into the path of the fallen carriage. Leaning into the opportunity, Seraphim ordered her horses to charge straight for the men who’d fallen from their seats.
Throwing herself from the carriage, Seraphim hit the ground and rolled as the two chariots collided. The horses tangled with one another, one falling on its side while wood splinters flew from the air.
The javelin stuck in Seraphim’s arm shattered during her roll. She ripped the broken splinter from her arm and threw it aside.
Leave it to her to make such feats look easy.
Aethra slipped away from me and rushed to Eleos’ side. Blood soaked his right arm, and he hadn’t moved.
“Eleos!” She called, grabbing his shoulders.
Relief washed over me when he stirred, and his thoughts whispered in my head. “I’d say I’m fine, but that would be a lie.”
Aethra bared her teeth. Lifting her arm, she pointed it at the wall behind her. The stone shattered, tearing a massive hole several paces deep—a tunnel that led to a dead end.
“You.” She helped Eleos up and shoved him toward Phaedrus. “Get him to safety.”
Phaedrus glanced behind him, offering her only a furrowed brow.
“Go! Trust me,” she shouted.
“Follow them!” I snapped at Percy. He lifted his head from his hands and unpeeled himself from the gates, rushing to Eleos’ other side to give him a hand.
Aethra didn’t follow them. She pivoted toward Seraphim, intent on throwing herself into danger again.
The redhead rose to her knees, eyes locked on one of the soldiers who’d fallen from her crash. He threw a javelin toward her head, and she deflected it with her scythe. Looking up, she saw Aethra, then noticed the tunnel the others headed toward.
“Go!” Aethra said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Nodding, Seraphim ran after the others, a heavy limp in her step. Spear clutched tightly in my hand, I reached Aethra and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”
“The Oracle’s signal,” she panted, raising her hand, fingers curling into a fist.
I looked up, foolishly seeking my cousin in the crowd.
“There.” She dropped her hand. “Either it’s there, or it’s not.”
It. Remembering Cerys’ magic, I pushed Aethra ahead of me as we sprinted for the tunnel.
But it wasn’t a dead end anymore. Framed in gold, a rough sketch hung at the end of the rock cavern, depicting Naunet’s beach—a muse’s spell. Cerys’ spell. The woman was an artist, though she hid the hobby from everyone but me.
Seraphim vanished into the painting as we arrived, and the image on the canvas shimmered and changed as its magic waned.
Cerys was dismissing the spell before any witnesses saw it—step through, and we would vanish from sight, and none would know how.
Wrapping my arm around Aethra’s waist, I threw us both through the portal into Cerys’ illustrated realm. The canvas snapped out of existence, trapping us in a shadowed world.
It hadn’t worked before, but I needed it to work now. Calling on the blood rushing from my shoulder, I wrapped us both in scarlet wings as we plummeted into the darkness.