The Gauntlet

by Rebecca Ethington

“Then I will trust you. We need to be a unified front in this Rowan. I am glad you are choosing--” I gave her a look, “complying to enroll in the school this year. Having you there in our stead will help us to heal the wounds your father and I are trying to mend in our people--”

  “You sound like dad, too.” I didn’t turn, I just threw another pair of boxers in my trunk and smashed my pillow on top of it. Packing the mortal way really didn’t do much in the way of efficiency.

  She chuckled with the lighthearted sound she always had, another thing I would probably miss. If only because I knew she wasn’t laughing at me. She really did sound like dad.

  “I hope you find the answers you need, Row. But I can’t send you off like this.” She cut herself short, stepping behind me and placing a large earthen mug on my dresser. The ugly thing sitting in the mirror as both the mug and its reflection stared at me. I jerked up, meeting the silver eyes of my mother in the mirror.

  “I know you don’t accept what’s inside you, but there might come a time when you can’t ignore it. There might come a time that you need it.”

  “What did you see mom?” I recognized that tone in her voice far too well.

  “Take the mug, Rowan. You’ll know when you need it. You’ll know when to trust her. You’ll know how to use it.” She smiled at me through the mirror, her hand soft on my shoulder as her magic buzzed between us, one last touch before she turned toward the door, the long golden ribbon from her intricate braid trailing behind her.

  “We will come and gather you after the Gauntlet, Rowan. You are doing the right thing.”

  And she was gone, leaving me with her last few words that were as confusing as pretty much everything else she said. That and an ugly earthen mug made from the magic dirt in the wells of Imdalind that lay far below the caves that served as our castle.

  A massive pool of water, surrounded by mud that together created the key source of power, food, and sight for a Drak.

  I wanted nothing more than to chuck the thing across the room and watch as it shattered into a million pieces.

  Instead I tucked it under the pillow in my trunk, closed and latched the lid, and went back to bed.

  3

  Gemma

  Mornings after a raid always hurt. Everything was too splintered and broken for me to do much more than roll over with a groan, prod Adrian awake and beg him to bring me food while I crawled myself to the old marble tiled room that had once upon a time been a functioning bathroom.

  I would drag myself through dozens of makeshift beds, cursing the demon bird that bit me, swearing at anyone who got in my way, and whining about wanting to go back to sleep.

  “Holy shit. Damn demon bird!” I hadn’t even rolled out of bed, and I was already cursing to the sky.

  That was two check marks crossed off my list at it hadn’t been five minutes. Today was going to be a doozy.

  Aches rattled every bone, veins pulsing with my usual magical hangover. I had experienced both types and I definitely preferred the one you got after drinking too much of Eddy’s fermented soup.

  One roll toward the overprotective hunk who fancied himself my boyfriend and it was clear two things were wrong.

  It wasn’t morning, and Adrian was about to be in a world of pain.

  His nest of blankets was empty. In fact, every cot and lean-to directly around me was empty. I didn’t see one dirty head or happily chatting child as they tried to steal a third bun from the stores. There wasn’t one whisper from the plotting pre-teens who were already too thirsty for the revolution to begin.

  The entire room that was usually bustling with Undermortals was empty.

  Rumor was that the tunnels had once been a huge hub for travelers that were hustling to work, or to another city or country on something the elders called ‘validations’. That was all from a world that was long forgotten, however. All that meant nothing around here anymore.

  Trains were gone, the travelers only existed in shadows and the jagged colorful artwork that covered the tunnel walls in a language no one knew anymore. Yellow tiled mosaics were everywhere, the cracked things shifting and twisting in fragile designs that I used to pretend were some kind of prophecy for the new world to come.

  Fairy stories from a kid too full of hope. That was a decade ago, before I was bitten and knocked unconscious for six months. Now I knew better. Any future with flowers and sunshine was something we would have to make, something we would have to kill for.

  If the CCC and the Tarns didn’t kill us first.

  Please don’t let that be what happened here.

  The Protectors can’t have raided the tunnel so soon. They can’t have tracked us down so fast, there were simply too many Undermortal camps littered in the web of underground tunnels for them to have zeroed in on us. Even if they had, leaving me behind made no sense. It’s not like I exactly blended into the sea of brown blankets with my bright pink mohawk, lines of silver piercings in my ears, and so many tattoos on my arms you could barely see the olive skin anymore. I did that specifically so they would notice me, and here I was being left behind.

  This was clearly Adrian’s fault. He was supposed to be my bodyguard or something. Although after one drunken night of sharing the same bed he seems to have other plans. Sleep with the guy once and it all goes to his head.

  Rage flooded my veins as I pulled myself to sit. My magic flared at the motion, thankfully taking away a bit of the morning after aches. I was in serious need of a stiff drink. I’d grab one on the way to the ass kicking I was sure to find closer to the MidCity hall that served as our main meeting hall. And where a booming voice was now echoing from.

  Deep. Dangerous. And followed by a particularly high giggle.

  “What the hell?” I didn’t hold back, I yelled so loud my frustration rattled the rat cages that hung from the ceiling. CandleEars, my grandmother had called them once. The world before the war had ridiculous names for things.

  I slid around, pulling on the shiny black pair of combat boots I had stolen a few months ago and jumped to stand.

  And went right back down.

  “Shit!”

  There was the ache I had been expecting.

  “Having some trouble?” Eddy’s familiar chuckle echoed from the opening of the hall, the dark tattoo of a snake on his arms folded over a grungy shirt that was emblazoned with what he swore was a cartoon character from two hundred years ago, before the war. Eddy was obsessed with that crap.

  “Where is everyone?” I pushed myself to stand again, taking two shaky steps before pushing away his offer to help. “And why the hell did you leave me here?”

  “I wasn’t about to drag you by your feet around the place. You know how you get after a raid. Everyone's in MidCity. Something happened. A good something.” He tacked on that last part when I opened my mouth in preparation to rage at him.

  “You mean besides the fact that we knocked over a store and brought home enough food to feed everyone in Last Pyre, SafeHome, and probably Fire Fate for a month. You’re welcome.” I folded my arms and leaned against the slimy stone of the annex tunnel, taking the opportunity to catch my breath.

  “Yes, something is happening in Imdalind.”

  Normally, that phrase would be accompanied by a terrifying tale of one of the Undermortal communities being raided. Or some speech from the damn King’s brother, Ryland who liked to dictate everyone's life. But Eddy was still smiling, and that infernal giggling was still pouring from the main hall.

  I lifted a brow in question, but the loon kept grinning, waiting for me to ask him. What did he think, he was that delusional Queen who had everyone thinking she could see the future? Seeing as he wasn’t going to divulge on his own, I pushed past him and charged my destination to the heightening voices.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what happened?” Eddy asked with his usual chuckle, catching up to me.

  “No.” I kept walking, heavy soles slapping in time with the laugh that had started to grate against my spine.
>
  Laughing was not unheard of, but laughing because of something in Imdalind or those damn Eternals that ruled us all was pretty much the unspoken rule number one of ‘things you didn’t do in Last Pyre’. Someone was breaking my rules.

  Sore muscles and fiery veins be damned, I sprinted up the stairs to MidCity, the junction that connected Last Pyre to several surrounding communities. The people I had unofficially led for the last two years mixed with the Undermortals from Safe Home, and Fire Fate that usually came to help us with the raids. Their community tattoos, a lock in the shape of a heart and a bloody scythe respectively, intermingled with the burning wand of my people, making it hard to tell who was who. Judging by the numbers, everyone who had helped with the raid last night had gone home and brought people back with them. The air was dripping with excitement. The talking, laughing masses clustered around five white buses, each one emblazoned with the seal of that goddamned academy.

  A dragon, a weird mug, something that looked like tree roots, and the sparks of what I was sure magic was supposed to look like. It was the dumbest, and ugliest, thing. Which was fitting seeing as it was for the dumbest, and ugliest school.

  The one I would gladly burn to the ground if I got the chance.

  “Fucking Imdalind Academy.”

  The place was a massive institution in the middle of what used to be Europe. At least that’s what the rumors say. No one had actually been able to find it, and plenty of Undermortals had tried. You have to be taken there, probably by those damn Eternals after you run their damn Gauntlet and win a place at the school. The school was where Chosen trained and perfected their magic, so that they could become powerful and grow up and lord over us. Then they would all get married and have their glistening Golden children that they would raise to run the Gauntlet, go to school, and train to keep murdering and beating us down, just like the generations of Chosen before them.

  An endless cycle.

  Prejudiced. Destructive. Murderers.

  Winning the Gauntlet was the only way to get a bite from a Vilỳ, gain magic and become Chosen. The Goldens who win become Chosen, the ones who don't are Tarnished and reduced to little more than servants. Angry, vindictive little things who would stop at nothing to regain the approval of their society. Some of them ended up below ground with us after they failed to receive their mark. But most of them remained above ground, The Tarns.

  A whole fucking system revolving around ugly little birds and their magical bite. Which was why the Eternals controlled all the Vilỳ’s by hiding them in the Gauntlet.

  Control the Vilỳ’s and you control the magic.

  Well, until me.

  Their dumb little plan had been broken by one tiny winged man-like thing with the face of a demon and fangs as long as a finger. The monster had been missed in the sweeps two hundred years ago, one creature with gnashing teeth and a hunger for human blood that I had found hiding in a collapsed tunnel inside of what used to be Prague.

  I wasn’t even ten yet. They nearly left me for dead. Would have if my mother wasn’t so stubborn. But that’s a sob story for another life.

  I was over it.

  Instinctively, I pulled my holy jean jacket down over my left forearm, not that anyone could see the ugly raised brand where the rat had bitten me. It was always hidden, nestled between tattoos and a scar from when I had tried to cut the thing out once, just above my elbow. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, it looked more like some of the scars you see in the elders from when we used to hunt the larger rats in the flooded tunnels.

  It didn’t matter, though, I wasn’t about to take chances, not with Chosen bastards lingering around the damn vans and staring at us so darkly I couldn’t tell if they were scared, or one step away from murdering us all.

  “What in the hell is this nonsense about?” I didn’t even try to keep my voice low, the disgust flying as I stepped into the crowd, pulling the focus of quite a few of the eager Undermortals.

  Eager.

  What the hell?

  My stomach turned, my pathetically weak body threatening to turn out the contents completely. That look should never be associated with that school. Or with any Chosen. For all we knew it was another ploy to round us all up. Take us to The Wastelands, the work camps near the burned out parts of the old Med Sea that weren’t quite as poisoned with radiation.

  “Baby, you’re awake. Just in time,” Adrian burst through the crowd, his arms wide as he attempted to sweep me up. Like hell if I was going to let that happen with all these people watching.

  “Answers first, affection later.” Thank god he stepped back; I didn’t want to have to throw him there. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s our chance, baby.” I gave him a look, not like it would stop him from calling me that.

  “Chance for what? Lifelong servitude and radiation poisoning?”

  “Not unless that lifelong servitude comes with a chance to make that evil overlord of a King drown in his own blood,” Adrian whispered, leaning into me until he could tug at the rip in my t-shirt.

  I jerked away, but not at the touch.

  We had been talking about our grand finale for years, imagining what it would be like to end the Eternals and all of the royal family, show them what they had done before we killed them. I had never killed anyone before, I was saving my first one for them.

  I highly doubted that it could be so close, or that they would send comfortable transportation to get us there.

  “You’ve lost your mind, Adrian,” I said with too much snarl, pushing myself away from his searching fingers.

  “Not quite, Gem. They are filling those buses, taking Undermortals to the Gauntlet,” Eddy provided as he came up behind us.

  Adrian tried to sweep me up again, but I flattened my palm against his chest, holding him back as one spark of yellow magic jumped between my fingertips.

  Dangerous considering our surroundings. But none of the Chosen that were chatting with my people could see past their false smiles anyway.

  “They are letting us run the Gauntlet? They are letting us into that damn school?”

  “Technically they were always supposed to, weren’t they?” Ed mused with a smile and a hand through his ruddy hair. “Not that we could get passed the Tarn armies to get there.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve tried, Ed.” I shot Eddy a fiery look that shut him up pretty darn fast.

  “It’s the seventieth anniversary of the damn race,” Adrian provided, his hand weaving around my waist. I was too focused on the vans to pull away that time.

  “The seventieth anniversary of tyranny and persecution against Undermortals, you mean.” I was having trouble controlling the power that was flooding my veins now, little sparks were spewing from underneath my fingertips, warming the palms of my hands as I pressed them against my spiked leather belt.

  “They are celebrating, Gemma,” Adrian continued, pulling me into him, resting his chin against my shoulder as we watched the Chosen. “They are celebrating by letting us come try our hand at the Gauntlet. Letting us try to get our own magic. And they are doing it by sending us into the race with the precious children of every Chosen in the world. All those Golden brats, in one place. Mortal. Unprotected…”

  His low tone was a seduction that rattled against my spine, my stomach twisting in need and lust. Although that might have been more from what was coming; from what was already forming in my mind.

  “And ready to see how tarnished their glittering world really is,” I finished for him.

  “All The Glitters Were Never Gold.” We whispered in unison. Eddy let out a low bellied laugh, the sound following me as I strode forward, right to the bulky Chosen in front of the nearest van. He had hair the color of thatch, his magic bright and nearly as oppressive as his size. He was smiling at three girls in front of him, balancing a playing card on the tip of his finger, hearts and diamonds spinning end over end.

  “I want to run the Gauntlet,” I interrupted confidently, causing
both his card to fall and every head in the immediate area to turn. “I want a chance to show the Eternals what our people can do. What we can really do.”

  I smiled brightly, clearly taking the words right out of his mouth. He looked like he had been slapped with his jaw wagging like that.

  “Why is that so shocking?”

  “It’s not. We had expected to fill these buses in minutes, but no one has been interested. Your kind should feel so blessed for even a chance to have even a portion of what we have.”

  It was taking everything in me not to rise, not to let my magic smack him into his damn bus and curl the thing around him. Later. Right then, I needed to save my strength.

  “You just needed to ask the right person.”

  I didn’t smile, I didn’t wait for him to snarl one more degrading comment, I stepped onto the bus, walking right to the back and to the padded seats that were filled with as many lies as they were stuffing.

  That was all it took for my people, for the army I had built, to fall into place.

  Hundreds of Undermortals followed me on board in lines, the pierced, tattooed hoards the Chosen found so disgusting piling three and four deep into rows that were meant to fill half that.

  We sat in the aisles, threw open the windows in the hope of finding more space, and cleared the platform in what felt like seconds. The five Chosen drivers were left looking dumbfounded. Mr. Card Trick’s jaw was sagging again.

  “Exactly what are you planning?” Eddy whispered as he sat beside me, Adrian taking the seat on the other side of the aisle.

  “Like you said, it’s the seventieth anniversary. I think they are going to be needing some fireworks.”

  4

  Sia

  "Name?"

  The haggard old lady behind the desk didn't even glance up from her computer. She continued clicking on the sleek, metallic mouse, the electronic card game she was playing reflecting in her overly large, and overly thick glasses.