And I wasn’t going to let that happen. If only to spite whoever it was who was making my life difficult.
I turned back to Zoe and Eric and nodded for them to keep up as Maddox, Leo, and I began to move back toward the doors, not wanting to spare a second. “Get a message to Quess,” I told Zoe quietly. “Somehow.”
“That’ll be easy,” Zoe said furtively. “That was one of the things I wanted to tell you: I cracked a problem Quess was having with getting our net communications secured, and now have a system in place. I’ve already got his net synced up to it, but the rest of you…”
Whatever relief I might have felt at finally having a secure way to communicate with each other through our nets was lost in the wave of anxiety shouting for me to start running. “It’ll have to wait. Besides, contestants’ net transmissions are blocked during the Tourney.”
We walked quickly through the doors, turning right down the hall toward the elevator bay. More and more people were streaming into the area, and moving against them was like trying to swim against a very strong current.
“Okay,” Zoe said. “Then come and meet me at our house later. I still need to update you on some other things.”
I realized she was probably talking about Paragon, as it was one of the only jobs Zoe had, and nodded, filing it away for later. “As soon as this qualifier is over and Ambrose is tucked in safely,” I promised.
“Liana. Please be careful, okay?”
I waited for Leo and Maddox to get in the elevator and shot her my most confident smile, in spite of the scanners causing the net to rattle around in my skull. “It’s lashes,” I said blandly, but her frown only deepened.
Maddox murmured the floor number to the computer, and we slid away, Zoe and Eric disappearing behind us as I exhaled nervously. I hadn’t mentioned my suspicions to them, because there hadn’t been any reason to. Besides, if this was another setup of some kind, it was too late for them to do anything to stop it.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to tell Leo and Maddox to be on their guard.
20
Ambrose was arguing with the official when we hurried down the hall toward him. He glanced over his shoulder, his brows pulled tight together, and then stepped to one side to let the official see us coming.
The man was portly and in his late forties, with round cheeks and wet, beady eyes that glistened angrily as we ran up. “Late is late,” he was already barking, crossing his arms over his chest. “You only have two minutes to put on your harnesses, and that’s not enough time.”
I was already kicking off my boots. “Nonsense,” I said with a smile, unzipping my uniform with a long, confident zip. I heard Maddox and Leo join me seconds later, and my smile broadened as I quickly slipped my shoulders out, shucking the material down off my hips and to the ground.
“You forget, sir, that we all had to spend some time at the Academy.” I stepped over the pile I had just created on the floor and grabbed a harness off of the table he was standing behind, holding it out behind me to the others. “At four a.m., the instructors used to come in banging pots and ordering us to get geared up in under a minute. If we didn’t, the whole company had to lash around the Citadel before breakfast!”
He smiled as I passed another harness back, the second grabbed as quickly as the first. The third was in my hands moments later, and I was stepping into it, still talking. “Boy, you never saw so many cadets move at the same time. And we all did it, too, except for this one kid, Billy.”
I clipped the harness across my chest and cinched it tight before hurrying back to my suit, sitting down, and shoving my legs through the legs of the uniform. I stood up, yanking the uniform up as I went, tucking my underclothes and excess straps under the edges. I slid my arms into the sleeves, and then took precious seconds pulling the cables out of the harness and attaching them to the weights that dragged the lines through my suit. I felt the lines shift as I set the lashes to come out next to my wrists, and then quickly attached the beads. Pulling the zipper up to my neck, I finished the look, and took a moment to check on Maddox and Leo, both of whom were ready to go.
“Luckily,” I said brightly, if a bit breathlessly, “no one on this team is a Billy.”
The official laughed, and Ambrose, who had been watching my display with a combination of growing horror and rapt fascination, looked at him with shock and surprise.
“Get along with ya, girl,” the official said, casting a thumb toward the open hole in the wall just behind him.
That was the lashway, one of many open doorways that led directly to the outer walls of the Citadel. They were used as ways to move quickly between floors without having to wait for elevators, as well as training grounds for Squires and Knights alike to practice their lashing. Beyond the opening were the black, gleaming, high-vaulted arches and buttresses that lined the walls, growing from the bottoms of the levels above, and creating a maze of sorts—which Knights practiced on daily.
I had grown up inside the Citadel, and these arches were as familiar to me as breathing. I had no concern about my skills during this competition. Well, one concern.
My eyes slid over to Ambrose, and I sighed. I had to remember to tone it down for the other members of the team.
Especially that one.
Because lashes were my specialty, and he wasn’t going to be able to keep up with me—which would end up making him look bad. Again.
“I will be in the lead,” Ambrose said as we walked past the official toward the lashway a few feet behind him. “Maddox, you’re behind me, and Grey will be behind you. Liana, I want you to stay in the rear. We’re going to be hitting the inner walls, so make sure you keep an eye on the Knightsmarks.”
The lashes qualifier was nothing but a straight-up time trial. The outside architecture had been separated into three paths around the Tower, each path with different qualifying times attached to it. Ambrose wanted to take the inner walls, arguably the most dangerous place for lashes, thanks to the density of the architecture, and that gave us only three and a half minutes to race around at breakneck speeds, while using the Knightsmarks—symbols painted on the walls themselves to guide us through dangerous terrain—to navigate.
For this competition, fast reflexes and correct interpretation of the marks were going to be critical.
Yet I knew why he was willing to risk it: he wanted to impress people and earn some prestige among the other Knights. And lashing along the inner walls would do exactly that.
It was risky—lashes were where most of the teams got eliminated—but I had to trust that he knew what he was doing. I had promised to do that much, at least.
In truth, I was eager for this; I lived for the thrill and rush of lashing, and this was an excuse to do it very quickly, as it was not only a trial for precision, but for speed as well. Knights had to be quick to respond, so the future Champion had to at least have mastered lashes.
This test would determine that.
Wind caught my hair as we came to a stop next to the lashway, and I took a moment to peer off the edge, looking down. The feeling never failed to elate me, and I felt my skin begin to tingle in anticipation for the qualifier.
“Candidates will prepare their lashes,” a prim, digitized voice announced. “You may start when the buzzer sounds, in fifteen seconds.”
I tugged on the small bead at the end of the lash line, pulling a few feet of it out to create slack, and took a few steps back, since I was going last. Then I perched on the tips of my toes, waiting, as a series of electronic beeps began to sound, counting down the remaining seconds.
Just over Maddox’s head, a white drone dropped down, the tiny blades whirring as the camera fixated on us. I didn’t know if Quess was operating it or not, but given how the last team had waited for the cameras to be off of us before they fought dirty, its presence gave me some reassurance. With it here, I was certain anyone wanting to try anything would be held off, unless they were willing to risk exposure.
Still, be
tter to avoid it. It was within the rules to fight with other teams that were on the course, but most didn’t, as it wasn’t deemed honorable. The risk of an accident was too high.
The pitch of the beeping suddenly became higher, and within the span of a heartbeat, Ambrose had thrown himself through the opening. I dropped the bead and excess slack from my hand and began to whirl it around, using the action to soothe myself as I waited for the others to go. The beads used the static they absorbed through friction with the air particles, but what I was doing was completely unnecessary. Just a way to make myself feel more prepared.
Maddox followed Ambrose, and as soon as Leo’s lash end hit and he stepped off the ledge as well, I was running, racing toward the hole with my lash still spinning. I leapt without even casting the line, loving the sensation of weightlessness just before gravity began to exert its pull.
I savored it for the split second it was there, and then threw my line, kicking my legs forward and shifting my hips to the right to adjust my weight and the angle of the arc so it would take me out and around. I knew this lashway entrance well, and there was a giant buttress of gargoyles jutting out of the side, hung upside down for added confusion.
But I knew every line of them, and had even created names for a few of them when I was younger, and lonely. But that was a different story.
I cast my second line, following the bright pink Knightsmark instruction painted on the side of the most prominent gargoyle’s face, which gave him a tattoo in the form of a hole with a slash through it. The bead hit an arch five feet below and ten feet away, and I quickly disengaged and fell, the wind rushing past my ears. I saw Leo disappear under the arch as I dropped, his hand already throwing the next bead, and I quickly readied mine, my eyes already looking for another bright mark.
I saw it moments later, halfway down the arch, and I quickly began reeling myself in with the connected line, my hand casting a line immediately to my left, to hit one of the posts.
We were in a corridor comprised of them now, the columns set fifteen feet apart. I was certain the test designers wouldn’t leave us here for long—it was a straight shot with no difficulty.
Then I noticed Ambrose a few columns ahead, weaving left across Maddox’s path, while she swung right in front of Leo’s, and I realized that they were weaving around the arches. A glance at the Knightsmark ahead showed why: they expected us to weave around each arch, rather than moving in a straight line.
I immediately cast my next lash, following the mark and swinging around the first column, then across the path to the next one… and then the next one. I drew my lines tighter, needing to be closer to the objects to generate enough momentum through each turn, then lashing diagonally through the gap before swinging around the opposite column of the next arch.
I smiled, elated as I took yet another turn, and then saw Ambrose drop another fifteen feet ahead, down through a gap between the final two arches. He was in complete freefall, with no lash attached, and my heart leapt in my throat. But a moment later I saw him throw his lash, connecting with the top of the final arch and swinging forward, both legs extended, and I relaxed.
I swung around the next column and then lashed directly to the center before disconnecting and dropping. Once again, gravity claimed me, and I surrendered willingly. I dove instead of going feet first, unable to resist it, and then twisted and cast my line, giving myself a little more slack so I would fall longer and gain more momentum.
The line connected with a ting and I leaned into it, trying to get more weight into the swing. Then there was a sharp, groaning sound, and a second later, I was in freefall.
My limbs flailed for a second as my mind tried to fathom what had just happened, my eyes seeing only the fishponds and forests of thick green trees below. Then it occurred to me that I was about to see them in a very permanent and final way, and my left arm quickly threw out a line, acting purely on reflex.
I must’ve noticed something to connect to even before the fall, because to my surprise, the line caught immediately, bringing me to a jerking halt that jostled me violently as the harness bit into my flesh.
My hands immediately went to the line, and I could feel a tension radiating from it. It practically vibrated, and I quickly jerked my hands away, afraid to even touch it before it had settled, afraid that it too would give before I could get my first lash connected again.
Wait. That other lash had hit before—had been holding my weight, even. So why had it disconnected? Had it simply lost a charge for some reason? Or had I made a false connection? My heart thudded in my chest, and I realized the line was still dangling free from the hole in my sleeve.
I quickly hit the button to reel it in, letting the smooth material glide by under my fingers as I dangled from one arm. I looked around, searching for any sign of my friends, but they had disappeared. It was likely that they hadn’t even noticed I was missing. I had to get back up on the course so they could see me. Surely someone would be coming back—if even one of us didn’t make the time, none of us did.
I slowed the line as it drew in, and immediately saw why it had failed. The bead had fallen off. It happened occasionally, but still… it was odd.
And bad. Without a second lash, I was going to be stuck until my team came back for me. Unfortunately, there were no exceptions made for broken lashes, as ingenuity must always be tested. It was up to my teammates to figure it out and come for me—before we got eliminated.
I clenched my teeth, angered by my predicament, and began reeling myself in again, hoping that I could at least climb up and get back to a place closer to the marked course so they could find me more quickly.
The line continued to tremble as the gyros in my harness worked to drag me up, and I shook, knowing that all that stood between me and death was the single line anchoring me in place. If it disconnected or broke, I wouldn’t have time to reel it in and cast it again. I would’ve fallen too far away from the Tower by that point. So I had to be careful.
“Liana!”
Hearing my name being cried out startled me, but I managed to not jerk around too much, twisting instead to find Leo racing toward me, his lashes flying. I stopped the gears in my suit, and moments later he was close to me, his entire body radiating his concern.
“Are you okay?” he demanded.
I swallowed and nodded. “I am. Turn around and let me hook on.”
Leo nodded, carefully adjusting his weight so he could reposition his body and present me with his back. I pulled out the carabiner attached to the front of my belt for exactly this purpose, and snapped it onto a ring in the back of his uniform, then slowly settled my weight onto him, bringing my knees up high on his hips and tucking my feet under my butt.
I disconnected my line as soon as I was settled, and Leo began to move.
It was so strange that he was so good at lashing, because Grey had been afraid of it, and I admired how quickly he had mastered such a technical skill. His movements weren’t as effortless as they could’ve been, but he was growing and adapting, even as we flew back to the course.
I held on tightly, trying to make myself a small bundle on his back, but I had to admit that riding with someone was almost as exhilarating as lashing itself. There was a thrill of excitement that came when I didn’t have control, and I found myself clutching him a little tighter, both elated and terrified at the same time. He was in complete control, however, navigating swiftly around column and gargoyle alike.
He began pulling us upward, then, and I realized with a pang of disappointment that the ride was done.
Moments later, he threw us both through the lashway, and we rolled together for a few feet, burning off excess momentum. We came to a stop with me on his back, and I quickly sat up and unhooked myself.
My knees were still a tad unsteady, after how close I had been to death, so I slid off him and onto my rear, taking a moment to catch my breath. Maddox was instantly there, her green eyes brimming with concern.
“Are you okay
?” she asked, looking me over. “What happened?”
“I’m fine,” I said jerkily. “But it looks like I lost a bead.”
I held up the end of the cord, showing them, and Leo immediately frowned. “That’s been cut,” he stated flatly, his brown eyes leaping up to mine and narrowing. “The edge wouldn’t be flat like that if it hadn’t.”
I stared at the cord, and then immediately dropped it as if it had burned me. Just looking at the flat edges reminded me that I would’ve been dead minutes ago, if not for my fast reflexes and Leo’s rescue. But still, it was deeply unsettling, especially coupled with the fact that this was the second event in which something had been tampered with.
It was no coincidence.
I allowed Maddox to pull me to my feet, and gave Ambrose a look. “You’re having dinner in your quarters, and one of us is to be with you at all times,” I said quietly, and to my surprise, he nodded. I realized he looked a bit pale himself, and it occurred to me that he might have finally come to terms with the fact that someone was out to get us.
Or more specifically, him.
I quickly located an official, pointing out the damage to the cable. He gave me his utmost assurances that he would look into it, and we quickly turned in our gear, unable to do more than that.
Besides, I was in no mood to stick around, needing to get out of there as quickly as possible to put my brush with death behind me.
21
I knocked on the gray door and looked down the darkened halls, half expecting one of Lacey’s men to be lying in wait with another bag for my head. But the halls were deserted.
The door slid open, revealing Eric, who had a welcoming smile on his face. Before I could even say hello, he’d ushered Leo and me inside, through the short, familiar hall and into the common room that had once belonged to Grey and Roark, and now belonged to Zoe and Eric.
I stopped short when I saw a figure hunched over the wide workstation in the middle of the room, a memory of Roark gripping me tightly. I half expected the person to look up with those piercing blue eyes and give me a grumpy scowl or make a derisive comment, but of course it wasn’t him. It was Zoe.
The Girl Who Dared to Descend Page 20
