My limbs tingled and I broke out in a cold sweat.
I wasn’t strong enough for this.
“You okay, Rook?” Thad nudged me in the ribs.
I nodded, wiping my brow.
“You’re whiter than the snow,” he said.
“I’m fine.”
He arched a brow.
Remember why you’re doing this. Remember Fleck.
Thinking of him—his face when he ran into my room—helped, but only a little. His memory was like a small flame inside of me, melting away at the chill of despair.
“Champions!” the king bellowed near the wall. The headmaster stood beside him, as did the Master Durus, and a few guards.
Steerforth stepped from the crowd. He looked mighty proud of himself as he walked, swinging his arm and winking at the crowd. He winked at Isla, too, who was standing a few yards from me.
“I swear,” Thad said, “someone needs to stick that guy with a needle so he deflates.”
Stefan grinned beside me.
Ehren stepped forward, and Kenley, and Vera. Vera looked angry, not afraid. She stared at the wall as though she were trying to intimidate it and, knowing Vera, she just might succeed.
“Well, Rook,” Thad said, “I guess this is goodbye.” Egan whimpered at my feet.
“Maybe you could say that with less finality?” I asked, scratching Egan between the ears.
Thad smiled. “Sure. Don’t get yourself killed so that I can see you again. Better?”
I glowered at Thad as Dad grabbed my shoulders. He searched my face before pulling me into a tight embrace. “I love you,” he whispered, holding my head to his chest. “Please…be careful.”
He pulled back, searching my eyes. I swallowed; my throat tightened.
Stefan stepped in, looking worse than I felt. “D, if anything happens to you…I swear to Gaia…”
“Stef,” I said. “Don’t worry about me, okay?” My voice shook even though I’d tried making it strong. “But if something does happen, will you take care of Fleck…?”
He held my gaze a long moment before nodding, and then he pushed me forward. I stepped out of the crowd, right beside Danton.
Danton regarded me in silence, face withdrawn, eyes blue and…deeply hurt. He bowed his head and motioned for me to go ahead. “After you, princess,” he said respectfully.
I took a deep breath and walked past him, toward the others, and he followed.
Master Durus was already handing something to each of the contestants. When I approached, he glared at me a long moment before handing me a small pack. I took it in my gloved hands and slung the rope strap over my shoulder; the pack felt empty.
Master Durus turned to the group. “Inside, you’ll find an assortment of supplies.” His voice rumbled quietly. “Those smarter than you have deemed these necessary for your survival.” His gaze settled on me, and I glanced away.
Right into Steerforth’s bright eyes. He winked.
I turned to the wall and started studying the stones.
Master Durus stepped back, bowed his head to the king, and the king stepped forward, hands clasped before him. His face looked particularly sharp as his eyes scoured each and every one of us, until at last he turned from our group and gazed at the wall with respectful admiration.
“Headmaster Ambrose has hidden the unity stone behind this wall,” he said, and turned to the group, the shadows in his face deeper. “The moment the stone is found, the game has ended, and you are all to use the amulet in your packs to return you to this point.” His pale eyes moved slowly about our group. “Remember: The other champions are not your enemy.”
His words lingered in the air.
He whispered something to the headmaster, who then stepped forward and motioned for Danton to join him.
Danton’s blue gaze flickered to me before he took a deep breath and approached the headmaster.
“You have the amulet?” the headmaster whispered.
Danton peeked in his pack and nodded once.
The headmaster turned from him, held his hands to the wall and mumbled something I could not understand. Energy pulsed, the air shifted, and a small section of stones unfolded, wider and wider—just wide enough for Danton to slip through, which he did.
One by one, the headmaster called the others through, asked them to check for their amulet, and then they would disappear behind the wall.
“Princess Daria,” said the headmaster.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“Your amulet,” he said.
I looked in the dark bag; the only thing inside was an amulet.
Strange. I was almost positive Master Durus had said supplies, as in plural.
The headmaster cleared his throat.
“It’s there,” I said.
The headmaster turned to the wall.
“Such a pity,” grumbled a voice behind me.
One of the guards had leaned forward. Lorimer.
I clenched my teeth and looked away.
“On behalf of my son, I sincerely hope you get what you deserve,” he spat in my ear.
I gripped the strap over my shoulder and the wind gusted, kicking up snowflakes.
The opening in the wall appeared and the headmaster stepped aside.
I inhaled deeply.
Here goes nothing.
I took a step when Lorimer hissed, “Mortis curse you.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Lorimer was turning away from me as the wind ripped through the crowd; I saw a sliver of the marking on his neck. The edge of a black triangle lying on its side.
Master Durus shoved me forward, and the wall closed behind me.
I was standing before another wall.
I glanced back. The enormous wall I’d walked through stood behind me, but my entrance was no longer visible.
Both walls stretched forever in either direction, forming a long outdoor corridor. A blanket of snow formed the floor, the dull grey sky formed the roof, and I was stuck somewhere in between, completely alone.
Where are the others?
We had each walked through the exact same opening; I would have expected at least one of them to be in my line of sight. Where had they all gone?
And more importantly, where did I go now?
I peered in my bag again; it was empty.
Huh. Maybe objects only appeared when I needed them? I slung the pack over my shoulder, pulled my dagger from its sheath, and looked in either direction.
The air was quiet, cold and lonely. A light breeze swirled around me, lifting snow in my face.
I wiped the hair from my forehead and started walking.
My boots crunched in the snow, the world around me quiet and growing colder. I could easily see my breath, but I couldn’t see any openings in the wall. I walked and walked, growing more and more anxious with each step.
I felt a small flicker of life behind me, and I turned.
There was nothing. Just an endless rug of white snow between two enormous stone walls.
I had started to turn back around when I felt it again.
Far away, in the opposite direction, was something like a vapor, transparent and swelling, making the air shimmer as though little flakes of snow had risen in a plume and moved together in a swarm.
Certainly, the life force isn’t coming from that, is it?
But as I watched, it moved.
Toward me.
The closer it came, the more I could sense it—sense the power inside of it. It was a rich power, an ancient power, and it was infinitely dark.
The wind blew around me, and I heard it whisper a single word: “Run!”
The shimmer was moving faster, sweeping towards me like a spirit, and I started sprinting.
My heart raced and my lungs burned as I heaved, trying to ignore the burning in my ankle. The snow was slowing me down and wearing my legs out fast.
Pain stabbed through my ankle and I tripped, falling in the snow. Wincing, I shoved myself to my feet, wipe
d the snow from my face, and kept running.
It was so close.
A thousand screaming voices filled my ears then, horrible and agonizing and otherworldly. I’d heard those screams before, while I’d been in the hall to the lower library with Thad.
I ran and ran as hard as I could, trying to get away from it, but it was too fast and I had nowhere to go.
And then I saw it, another shimmer up ahead, coming toward me.
My heart turned to lead.
I was trapped.
Chapter 19
The Non-Directional
The shimmer ahead was almost upon me.
I gripped my dagger tight, holding it before me, when the shimmer chimed.
Wait, that looks just like…
A nyx.
It was like the one from the castle, and as I watched it I realized it was the very one I’d saved from Denn’s cruel hands. It chimed again, darting frantically through the air, pointing at a spot in the wall.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
The spot looked like every other spot along the wall, but the little nyx continued pointing and whizzing in the air like a hummingbird, then flew straight into the wall and was gone.
The vapor was so close my skin turned cold, its agonizing screams chilling my insides.
The wind ripped over the snow and howled, “Go!”
The shimmering vapor descended on me with a chorus of wailing and I jumped, right into the wall.
I shut my eyes, preparing to smack hard, but instead I kept falling. Right until I landed right into a pile of snow. I rolled on my back; the shimmering vapor was gone, and so was the wall. In its place was white. Fields of snow rolled like an ocean before me, pristine and untouched, empty and desolate until they joined the grey sky at the horizon. Where was I?
A delicate chiming made me turn around. The nyx fluttered in the air, glittering and twinkling, full of life. It chimed again, sounding like bells.
“You saved my life,” I whispered.
It continued chiming and started fluttering away from me.
“Wait!” I stumbled to my feet and moaned. My ankle was not cooperating.
Fighting back pain, I trudged through the snow after the little nyx. It wasn’t moving fast, not nearly as fast as I knew it could. It was moving like it wanted me to follow it.
At least someone knows where they’re going.
I followed the little light through the interminable grey haze, plodding through the snow. My tracks were deep and sloppy, and I realized that mine were the only ones I could see. There wasn’t a single blemish in the snow, not a single track from the other champions. Or any other creature.
The nyx darted back to me, whirring and chiming loudly in my ear as if to say, “Hurry up!”
But I couldn’t move any faster. My toes were beginning to feel like rocks, and the pain in my ankle was becoming unbearable. Wind whistled over the endless white fields, lifting snow and ice in my face. The cold air stung my eyes and burned as I breathed it in and struggled to focus on the chiming spark in front of me.
Snow began falling from the clouds, and I saw shadows just up ahead, tall and slender and dark, like giants, huddled in the distance. Trees.
The nyx continued forward, a bright light in the haze, and the falling snow grew thicker, sticking to my cloak and hair. I tugged my hood over my head and held my cloak tightly between my gloves, trying to stay warm as freezing air swirled around me. My teeth chattered and my fingers felt like ice, and finally, we reached the trees.
The great pines creaked and moaned against the wind and weight of the snow in their arms. There were so many shadows beneath them, dark and foreboding, and I’d just about made up my mind to avoid them when the little nyx dove in.
The wind burst behind me and I shuddered, following the nyx into the trees. The air wasn’t as cold here. I could deal with the temperature and let the trees fight the wind.
The nyx darted around my head, chiming.
“Where do we go now?”
The chiming sounded louder, and a little annoyed.
Well, I had no idea where to go. Everything looked the same, like a white and black photo of a forest in winter.
The breeze rustled past my ears. “Use the directional.”
I’d almost forgotten I’d brought it. I dug deep in my pocket, pulled out Cicero’s directional, and clicked it open.
The little nyx stopped chiming and hovered over my shoulder, staring at the arrow. The arrow spun and spun in one direction, while the symbols around the perimeter spun in the opposite direction, and right as I was about to close the lid, they stopped.
The arrow hovered over a circle, pointing about sixty degrees to my left.
I started walking, and the nyx chimed and fluttered behind me.
Together we followed the arrow, through the snow, past tree after enormous snow-covered tree. The world was quiet, and the farther I walked, the more I felt as though the trees were watching me.
The pain in my ankle subsided some, only because it was frozen into numbness. I wondered if I’d ever warm my hands and feet again. The shadows grew darker, the air grew colder, and finally, after what felt like forever, I found footprints.
My footprints.
I’d walked in a giant circle.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. The directional pointed as though it wanted me to keep walking, round and round, until I took my very last step.
I grumbled and chucked the directional at the ground.
The nyx ducked out of the way, exploding in loud chimes, and hovered farther away from me, scared.
“Sorry,” I said, “I’m just…”
Pathetic.
I had no business being here. I probably didn’t see any of the contestants because they had known what to do and where to go. They had the skill and talent necessary to survive.
I did not.
The nyx approached me slowly, the bells soft and almost melancholy. It hovered in the air before my face, its light fading in and out.
“What am I doing?” I whispered, and the little creature’s wings fluttered. “Who did I think I was, entering the games? I don’t stand a chance. I can’t even find the mountain!” I was yelling at myself now. “Who loses a mountain?”
The nyx backed farther away, and I slumped in the snow. My ankle throbbed, and every extremity had grown heavy and numb from the cold. I didn’t know at what point I’d lost the feeling in my face, but I had, and when I slipped my glove from my hand to wipe back my hair, and touched my frozen fingertips to my cheek, I couldn’t tell which was colder.
This overwhelming feeling of helplessness began to sink in, and it was then I realized how much I’d hoped for this moment to free Fleck. How even though I knew I didn’t possess the necessary skill, I had held on to the hope that there was at least some chance, no matter how minute it might have been, that I could’ve won and helped Fleck find his freedom.
But sitting here in the snow, lost and cold and afraid, the truth began settling inside of me.
I’d never had a chance. I would lose—or die—they would take Fleck’s powers and Fleck’s life, and it would all be my fault.
I had failed.
My eyes stung. I never should have brought Fleck here. I never should’ve taken Stefan’s place, because I didn’t have the strength to endure the consequences.
The nyx chimed frantically. It buzzed in the air, twinkling and fluttering, and then it disappeared. Leaving me alone.
The air was whistling as it blew through the trees, bringing ice and snow, when I heard the soft crunching of footsteps. I whipped my head around as a shadow emerged from behind a tree.
“Daria?”
The person lifted his hood; it was Danton. His blond hair blew in the wind, and his eyes were bright and curious as he walked forward, toward me, slow and steady and cautious.
I wiped my nose and stood, brushing the snow from my cloak. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
M
y response hurt him, but his face showed nothing.
“I thought I heard something,” he said, stopping a few feet before me. He noticed the directional and bent over to pick it up. His face changed with surprise, and he held the object out for me. “Was this in your pack?” he asked.
“No,” I said, taking it from him. Despite my gloves, my hands were so cold my fingers struggled to bend in order to grab the directional. “I brought it with me.” I shoved it back in my pocket. “But it’s not doing any good. All it did was lead me in a circle.”
Danton studied me a moment, then turned and squinted at the trees. “If you want,” he said, “you can come with me.”
He was careful. Not wanting me to feel forced even though I could feel the hope simmering inside of him.
“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” I asked.
He smiled at me—he really was handsome. “It doesn’t need to be,” he said. “And if you grow tired of my company, you are free to walk away.”
I looked around at the trees, at the snow, at the desolate and empty terrain.
“Sure,” I whispered, “but I’m not sure I’ll be much help.”
Danton’s stance lifted a little as he held my gaze, then looked away. “We need to go that way.” He pointed up ahead and a little to the right. I couldn’t see anything but more snow and trees.
“Can you see the mountain?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “but I don’t need to see it in order to know it’s there.” He turned to me, his features soft but withdrawn, and then he started walking.
The two of us walked in silence, Danton in front, me lingering a few feet behind. My body was so cold, my feet like bricks, and as long as I put most of the pressure on my left foot, the pain in my ankle was manageable.
I didn’t know how Danton knew where to go. Everything looked the same to me, and I had no idea how he’d found me, but we didn’t retrace our footsteps. Every so often, he’d glance over his shoulder at me, but he didn’t speak. He just kept walking, musing.
I pulled out the directional; the arrow spun in one direction while the symbols spun oppositely. Both finally stopped—the arrow lingering over a symbol of two crossed arrows and pointing up ahead, but a little off to the right.
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