But none of that would help me with whatever waited in the room at the end. That was a giant blind spot. Despite the obvious danger, I was eager to test myself against it. If I didn’t have to drag the others into my bad decisions with me, I could do so guilt-free.
“He’s Ethan Helix, Bruce Helix’s son,” Pete said, then waited expectantly.
My shaking head wasn’t what he was looking for.
“Bruce Helix.” Another expectant pause and wide eyes. “Cripes, do you know anything about the magical world?”
“I didn’t even know there was one,” I said.
He rolled his eyes in disbelief. “He runs the North American branch of Shadowlight. Super powerful, connected, rich, and his family goes back centuries in the magical world. He’s a big deal. Like the big deal.”
“Usually, the big deals are the biggest blowhards.”
Pete leaned in close. “He’s a blow hard with a lot of clout. Helix always wins, Wild. His family, I mean. They are always on top. If just once, someone else…” His words trailed away, and I heard him loud and clear.
Just once it would be nice if the little guy won. If the underdog took home the prize.
I nodded, determination raging through me. “Let’s see how a farm gi—boy—from Nowhere, Texas stacks up against the big dog, shall we?”
Pete’s smile stretched from ear to ear.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Wally said in her strangely deep voice. “Hold onto your seats. The show is about to begin.”
“What is with that voice?” Ethan said, looking at Wally.
“I’ll go first.” I strutted up to the table beside the log, letting the thrill of the moment energize me. If I hurried, I wouldn’t have time to think about the obvious differences between the creek at home and this log suspended above either sharp spikes or absolutely nothing for hundreds of feet, depending on how you looked at it. I wouldn’t reflect on the vastly different pain potential of a well-placed arrow or spear versus a paintball or roadkill. And I certainly wouldn’t think about the death trap at the other end with its hidden dangers just waiting to snap closed on me.
Nope, best to just keep moving.
I hefted a shield, gauging the weight. Not terribly heavy, and while I held it, it also seemed to lighten a little. I grabbed another, knowing I’d need two. There was no way I could pivot and turn to use only one shield on the log—I’d need to brace with a shield on each side.
Adrenaline coursed through me as I eyed the log again.
“Fortune favors the brave,” I mumbled, using Rory’s favorite catchphrase growing up.
“What a circus,” Ethan mumbled.
I placed one foot solidly on the log and shifted my weight. No give. I slid it out a little farther. Still nothing. The log was solid.
“Here we go.” I stepped out with the second foot as Wally put the binoculars to her eyes.
“Our hero steps onto the log,” she said in her newsroom voice.
“Don’t look down,” Pete called out.
I gritted my teeth, ignoring the urge to do just that.
Eyes straight, I let my mind relax and focused on feeling the log under my feet. Trusting its solidity and my balance. A slight breeze slid across my skin before a prickle of warning brushed down my right side.
Wally’s voice drifted into my calm, announcing an incoming arrow from the right.
I took a step to align my body before bending, ducking down between the shields. As tall as I was, they didn’t cover everything. The arrow sliced through the air right behind my head. Had I not taken that step and ducked, it would’ve given me a new ear hole.
Apparently killing was a go. Sideburns didn’t pull any punches. I guess his pep talk didn’t prevent him from going for the jugular. Then again, had he pulled any so far? Not really. Besides, there was that incident with me shoving him and his car in the ditch. Probably made him look bad.
“Wally,” I called out as a trickle of warning slid down my left. “I need you to announce kill zones. Head height, chest height, stomach, so on.”
“You got it, boss—”
“Chest, chest, chest, chest, chest!” Pete called out.
I held firm and a spear clanged off of my shield, pushing my weight too far right. I surged up and pushed forward, needing movement to regain my balance. Another warning lit up my right side.
“Right. Legs,” Wally called out as Pete sounded the same alarm in a much higher pitch.
I took two fast steps, focusing again on the solid log beneath my feet. On my balance. On sensing which sides the blows would come from. Having regained my focus, I crouched between the shields. The arrow zipped past me. Sideburns hadn’t expected my movements and he was too far away to react in time to erratic changes. Good news for me.
“Left, chest,” Pete called out.
I pushed to walking, his warning—and a prickle from the left—giving me enough time to brace for impact. As expected, the spear rammed into my shield, mighty in power. I faltered, my weight thrown, needing a moment to get my bearings. But a new threat was already coming in.
“Right, legs,” Wally called urgently. “Right, head. Right, arm. Run!”
On impulse, I spun and took two fast steps—back the way I’d come. Shield at body height, an arrow clipped the very edge. The others missed, but not by much. I swiveled back around. Hurrying now, I kept my focus on the solid log. On my balance. Trusting in my ability. Staying calm.
“Good one,” Pete called.
“She’s readying two,” Gregory hollered. “Left. She’s readying two.”
“The Sandman has his bow lowered,” Wally said. “Not sure why.”
“He’s watching his prey, that’s why,” I said to myself, not wanting to advertise. Then, louder, “Keep me updated on what they’re doing.”
“Roger,” Wally called.
“She’s throwing,” Pete said. “Two, one in each hand. Holy crap, is she ambidextrous?”
“Body, body,” Gregory called.
I put on more speed, nearing the center of the log at a fast walk.
“Impact!” Pete shouted.
The spears hit the edge of my shield—the first with the expected force, and the second compounding it.
I swore under my breath and, not hearing Wally, took a second to pause and regain my headspace. I let out a slow breath, but before I could fully release it, Wally was announcing, “He’s getting ready—rapid-fire, rapid-fire!”
“Where?” I shouted, but it was too late. The first arrow whistled an inch from the tip of my nose as I dropped down, crouching between my shields. Another sliced across the back of my neck. Pain blossomed, and I grimaced as a third arrow sailed overhead and a fourth struck my shield.
He was covering all his bases, forcing me down.
As if hearing my thoughts, Gregory yelled, “Go, go, go, go!”
I didn’t wait to be told twice.
“Here comes another one,” Pete shouted. “Left! Left! I mean, body!”
That’s all she did, the spear thrower—her might was the weapon. Her might made me go into defense mode, where Mr. Sunshine and his barrage of arrows could pick me off.
“Adapt, damn it,” I scolded myself. “You know what they’re doing. Adapt and get off this log!”
I walked at a fast clip, steady, seeing the blur from the left out of the corner of my eye. As the spear neared, I turned just a little and angled the shield. The spear ricocheted off, some of the impact deflected.
“Rapid-fire, rapid-fire,” Wally shouted. “All over. Up, down—”
I hurried forward, half running, my gaze on the log and the shield covering my vitals. Searing pain sliced through my calf before vibrating up my body. Metal arrow tips clattered off the shield.
The mist cleared slowly as I neared the end, the door jiggling in my vision. An arrow point jostled my hat and I jerked, lifting the shield. My balance wavered. I crouched and took a deep breath to stabilize myself, thinking of the spikes below me. Thinking of the long
plummet after they dissipated to nothingness.
“Left. Wait, she—left! She’s throwing!” Pete shouted.
I surged up, my heart in my throat, not completely balanced but clearly out of time. The spear smacked the shield, the impact vibrating my arm but not shoving me as hard. I was farther away now, she’d missed her chance. The arrow-slinging lunatic, however, was plenty close.
“Rapid-fire, rapid-fire,” Wally shouted again, and I swung my left shield to my right side, stacking them on top of each other to cover my whole body. The weight of the two compounded, dragging me close to the edge. I breathed as slowly as I could and focused on the log under my feet. On balance.
Metal dinged off metal, the arrows smacking the shields so fast, my mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe someone could shoot and reload that quickly, from that distance, and continuously hit their mark.
“Left,” Pete yelled. “Body.”
I switched the left shield back with effort. My breath coming in fast in gulps as my stamina was tested. An arrow smacked into my boot, not forceful enough to pierce the leather. Pain flared across my knee and I sucked in a surprised gasp. Another arrow sliced through my pants, opening a gash in the back of my thigh. I staggered as yet another spear smashed into the left shield, throwing my weight too far right.
I tried to windmill my arms, so close to the edge I could almost jump. But the shields hampered me and the pain shooting up my leg stopped me from dancing forward to get my bearings. Pete yelled, Wally screamed, but I couldn’t get straight. I couldn’t regain my balance.
My feet slipped.
I was falling.
Chapter 14
As I slid sideways off the log, my balance shot, I pushed off with everything I had, the spikes below swimming in my panicked vision. Shields falling away, I reached out, stretching to grab the platform on the other side holding the gold. My palm hit the edge. I clutched it in a death grip, the weight of my body trying to rip my fingers away, and then grasped it desperately with my other hand.
An arrow now and I’d be done. But no arrow drove into my flank. No spear struck my back.
Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself up by my fingertips. Chin above the platform, I threw my arms over the edge one at a time. Body shaking, various points throbbing in agony, I pulled up a knee. Slowly but surely, I rolled myself onto the platform.
Only my rapid breathing and the thrumming of my heart in my ears interrupted the vast silence.
“Am I dead?” I asked myself, closing my eyes for a brief moment. That had to be the mantra of these trials, and now I’d taken it up. Am I dead? I almost laughed. Almost. There was no point in scrambling for cover. If Mr. Sunshine had wanted to kill me, he’d had his opening.
Pete’s voice drifted across the space. “I literally cannot believe it. Do you see? Didn’t I tell you he was good? He’s so dang good! This is why the Sandman showed an interest. See?”
Pete clearly had low expectations. I was bleeding from multiple places, dog tired, and I’d nearly fallen to my death. This, when I’d had a team of people to help me. I wasn’t expecting an award for brilliance, that was for sure. Still, I had made it. That counted for something. And we were one step closer to the gold.
I slowly rolled onto my stomach and shoved onto my hands and knees.
The spear thrower stood without a spear in hand, watching me. On the other side, I barely made out Mr. Sunshine (I still couldn’t bring myself to call him what everyone else did) sitting in his chair, just watching. This leg of the challenge was complete.
I really hoped I hadn’t just gotten through the easy part, but I had a feeling that might very well be the case.
Ethan stood at the beginning of the log, his expression curious, his body poised and ready. He didn’t intend to let me take that gold without him. The others fanned out around him, grinning at me. Wally put up a thumb, smiling wide.
“Next,” I said softly, no longer excited for the challenge to come. No longer feeling the confidence in the pit of my stomach. The struggle to survive the log challenge had exhausted me.
The sliding glass door slid open before me, and I crossed the threshold into the circular white room beyond. The gleaming floor squeaked under my soles. The mountain of gold glittered in the harsh light—and so did the metal weapons of all shapes and sizes that hung on hooks and rested on cloth-covered tables throughout the room.
Another step inside and it was like someone had flicked a switch. The feeling went from stagnant to expectant.
I cupped my knee, applying a little pressure to the throbbing wound before rubbing the back of my neck. My fingers came away red. Super, I was in tiptop shape for some sort of weapon-loving nutcase to come at me for dirtying their white room. At least, I figured that’s what was about to happen.
But as I stood there, the pregnant pause intensified. The pressure increased. Danger lurked, waiting for its moment to attack. The feeling of dread from earlier strengthened, overwhelming and suffocating.
“Come at me then,” I said softly, taking a step closer to the gold. “You’re there, somewhere. I know it, you know it, and you know I know it. So come at me.”
One more step toward the gold. That would be the trigger, I knew, but then what? Where would the jack jump out and with what weapon?
My knife hung heavy at my side, a dwarf compared to some of those hanging on the wall. I took another step. Then another—ten feet away now, and I could barely breathe over the tension. One more step and a scraping sound from behind me rang out in the silence.
Instead of spinning around and showing my back to the closed inner door, a potentially lethal mistake, I stepped diagonally and cocked my head, using peripheral vision. The door I’d come through slid shut and a sheen—a see-through wall--dropped down from the sky, trapping me in. My watch vibrated against my wrist. I’d expected no less. What I didn’t understand, however, was where the sound had come from.
The gold shimmered, twinkling even without extra light from outside, before blinking out. Another illusion. There wasn’t a single coin left.
“Nice,” I said sarcastically, backing up to the side of the glass door, my back to a solid wall.
I touched it to be sure.
The door behind the fake pile of gold slid open, revealing a slender woman with blonde hair, most recently seen cutting the rope while Pete was climbing up. I’d assumed she was with the other girls.
I stopped myself from saying, “You!”
She grinned as though she guessed at my restraint. Then she winked at me, mischievousness twinkling in her eyes.
“Welcome to the Culling Trials,” she said in a mid-range voice with no defining characteristics. “I am a sophomore student in the House of Shade. One year ago, I beat this trial and claimed the gold. This year, I was hand selected to usher the new students in should any actually make it this far.”
“And kill them where appropriate?”
She smiled. “Maim only, of course.” She stepped forward and the door slid shut behind her.
“So how does this work?” I asked, feeling a strange tingle through my body. “You try to maim me, and I try to…what? Maim you?”
Her smile increased in wattage. “Take me down, of course. If you can get me to yield, you can have the gold. Fail, and you will go to the healers.”
Healers. That was good news.
A throwing star sailed toward my face. I hadn’t even seen her move!
“Holy—” I just barely dove out of the way, rolling across the white floor. Another sawed the air after me, tugging at my shirt as it zipped by. Best to keep moving.
I scrambled up as a third throwing star skittered against the ground where I’d just been. The woman had great aim, but she was slow at anticipating my movements. I had to use that to my advantage.
Similar weapons littered the table two feet away. I snatched up a throwing star, larger and with more prongs than the ones she was using, twisted and threw. I expected a wobbling mess that would buy me only a l
ittle time. Instead, the weapon flew fast and true, spinning through the air perfectly, directly toward her stomach.
Her eyes widened minutely, and she dodged out of the way, her fluid movements speaking of natural skill honed with training. I grabbed a mace from a nearby shelf, having absolutely no intention of getting closer to her and swinging the thing. No, I just threw it, my aim good and my expectations low.
She pivoted and dodged, easily evading, before dodging again, this time barely getting out of the way of a really neat ax that would’ve struck her with its handle. I wasn’t an experienced ax thrower.
“You are a mess,” she said, grabbing an army knife with a wicked serrated edge from the nearest table.
“That’s Hot Mess to you, sweet cheeks.” I snatched up a whip, wanting something long that could keep her at a distance. I needed a plan of attack, and until I had it, I intended to stall. As tired as I was, I was used to long, hard days. I would have bet my last dollar she’d never wrestled a cow in her life, let alone a bull the size of Whiskers for hours on end.
She ran forward, her knife held by the hilt, the business end pointed to the side. It was clear she knew how to use the thing.
I flicked the whip, once again not expecting much. The tip flew out and snapped viciously, right next to her head. The sound reverberated through the room.
Her eyes widened again, larger this time, and she changed direction, heading for the other side. Behind her, through the sheen of hardened air, I caught a glimpse of Ethan in the middle of the log, the end of his wand glowing as arrows bounced off of some sort of magical shield. That sure would’ve been helpful to me. Wally stood behind him and Gregory behind her. In front of all of them, keeping Ethan put despite his magic, was what looked like a badger.
Where the hell had the badger come from?
A knife flew out of nowhere, dragging my focus back into the room. I jerked to the right and it flew past my head. I flicked the whip again, the handle strangely comfortable in my grip, like shaking hands with a long-lost friend. It cracked against her forearm, opening a three-inch-long gash.
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