“You’re going to help us get past that wall tomorrow. We can’t fight the gauntlet and carry the flags if we’re hungry and that’s where your surplus comes in.” Gregor beamed and placed a firm hand on the skewered himathor.
“What makes us think we can trust you?” I asked taking another step back. “If you take our food, you could just as easily leave without us knowing the next day.” Gregor stepped forward while shaking his head slowly.
“As wild as your imagination is sunshine, I’m afraid you’re still wrong.”
“Why do you keep calling me sunshine?” I asked angrily.
Gregor ignored this. “While I cannot guarantee the survival of everyone, I can certainly say that the more fighters we have the more likely it would be that we all could survive.” Gregor paused in consideration. “Even if some of the fighters are lackluster.” I began to protest despite not knowing what ‘lackluster’ meant, and was immediately cut off. “Easy, easy,” he purred. “Feeding us is the smart thing to do. When we try again tomorrow, we'll all be well rested and ready.”
“How long can it possibly take for you to get the flags over there?” I asked in angry disbelief.
“Longer than you'd expect.” He said dropping the false sympathy. “Hours. And we’ve failed every time, exhausted and injured. The point is sunshine, like it or not, we're vital to your survival, and if we fail once more... Those flags will explode or something, leaving us here to starve.” He glared at the both of us, as if it was somehow our fault. As much as I didn’t want to admit it: Gregor was right. Seven people were far better than the alternative.
“Will you give us a moment to talk?” I asked, looking to Preston. Gregor looked sour, but immediately put on a sickly sweet smile.
“Of course,” He growled, before backing up a respectable distance. His gang did likewise before I rounded on Preston.
“We don’t have a choice you know,” Preston whispered slowly. “We have to give him some food.” I shook my head.
“After what he’s done to you Preston I don’t think we should,” I countered quickly.
Preston frowned and laced his arms together. “You can’t think of it like that Jacob. Gregor’s dangerous yeah, but he’s a good ally to have for now. For the record I’m fine. Just a little shaken,” he assured me quietly.
I chuckled. “I still can’t believe you threw such a solid punch,” I appraised while patting him on the back.
Preston bashfully turned his head although still managed a slight smile. “The point is, if even Gregor couldn’t make it past the Gauntlet with the rest of the trainees, there’s little reason to believe that we could do the same. Feeding him and his gang is our only hope for survival.”
Eventually, I nodded my head in hesitant agreement. After calling Gregor and the rest of the trainees back, I told them all what happened. The crowd behind Gregor cheered, yet Gregor himself smiled only slightly as if he had expected this to happen.
“Lets eat shall we?” he asked as a dry smile spread across his lips. Walking a short way’s away from the podium pinnacle, we were welcomed by a small camp of quickly made shelters, centered by a burnt out campfire. The wiry trainee scrambled forward and began to assemble sticks for the fire. Watching curiously, I recoiled slightly as a quick jet of flames shot from his fingertips. After I uncertaintly placed myself by the roaring hearth, I silently watched the himathor cook.
Gregor quickly demolished the first piece out of the fire, before gnawing at the remaining fat. Only after his second large chunk did everyone else slowly creep in to steal some of the meat. We wordlessly ate, and as I did so, watched as Umber peacefully drifted across the fire.
“Big day tomorrow,” I said to him, silently diverting my attention the stars spread across the cold night sky. “Could be our last,”
“You mortals and your ‘could be’s,” Umber said, scoffing slightly. “You worry so much about what could happen that it’s a wonder you even wake up in the mornings.”
“So you’re not scared then?” I asked, looking into his gaze.
“I am confident that I’ll find a way to survive,” he responded dryly. “You, I’m not so sure,”
“Oh funny,” I mumbled before swatting him out of sight for a moment. “I suppose if I die, you’ll just go back to being a thick pool of syrup until some other fool swallows you up.”
“Let’s hope the next fool to do so will at least have a stronger body than yours,” Umber said, snickering slightly. “Do you know how irritating it is to watch you weakly trudge through all of that forest when a dragon could have flown that distance in mere minutes?”
“So you remember being a dragon then?” I asked, suddenly curious. Umber shied away a little, as if trying to hide his embarrassment.
“There are flashes, yes,” he said defensively. “Certain recollections of once being stronger and once being whole. Not that you would understand, but at times I feel like there was once more of me than just a body and a mind.”
“See, now you’re being stupid again,” I sighed, brushing him off once more. “Whoever found you probably recovered all he could. You think there’s still more of you out there today?”
Umber didn’t answer. I suspected that he didn’t know, but telling him so would have made him more furious than he already was. More than a body and a mind, his voice repeated in my head. The thought scared me, although I didn’t know why. What else could there be besides a body and a mind?
“How about we just not think any of this exam stuff until tomorrow?” I suggested. “Let’s just enjoy tonight and worry about it when the time comes.”
“You were the one that brought it up,” Umber responded grouchily.
“I mean it Umber,” I told him sternly.
He sighed impatiently. “So be it mortal,” Umber said before diving out of the flames and quietly fading out of view.
I quietly left the campfire, bidding good-night to only Preston. I climbed into a nearby tent and welcomed sleep like an old friend.
Chapter five
Escape
He’s a friend. But a friend
Who has never seen the sea
Yet he walks on
He walks on
Deftly walking to be free
He’s a boy, but a boy
Clinging to his innocence
Yet he walks on
He walks on
Deftly walking out to me
I deceive. I deceive
And it causes me to grieve
Yet I walk on
I walk on
Hoping he will forgive me.
“Rise and shine you stupid git.” Gregor’s voice sept in through the outside world like how uncomfortably cold water seeps through clothing. I frowned and flopped over to one side, my muscles screaming in weary agony. There was no possible way it was morning already.
“Five more minutes,” I groaned, trying burying myself deeper in the enclosure.
“The early bird saves our only way out of here. Get up, or I will turn this tent upside down.” I shook Preston awake and scrambled out of the tent as fast as I could, just barely avoiding an encounter with Gregor's hard leather boots, which furiously tried to kick me.
A disturbed silence held the camp in place, with the only sounds present being the strange scraping of rocks against metal. Approaching the campfire, I watched as the trainees frantically tried pound out the imperfections in their swords with stones. A few tried holding their swords over the fire for a while, however even with heat, the metal seemed unworkable. Through the wordless commotion a few minutes later, I noticed that Gregor was nowhere to be seen. Quietly excusing myself, I left the perimeter of the camp in search of him. Scanning the area, I found him perched on a lofty rock examining something with childish delight. Quietly edging closer, an involuntary gasp left my lips as he a sword to the light.
In describing a weapon, it seems impractical to describe the beauty of it. More likely, someone would appraise its weight, or its sharpness, or its
strength, or any combination of those traits for that matter. However this sword was as much of an artwork as it was a tool. Its hilt was carved into the figure of a tightly coiled snake and shone a deep gold. The tip reflected a green so soft you would have thought it was a trick of the light. Every careless motion Gregor made caused the blade sliced through the air with hardly a sound or a breeze.
I stopped suddenly, now remembering the day that Gregor Preston and I were taken into the camp. Gregor was fighting to hold onto a large long object concealed in leather. One of the elders had even mentioned something about a sword. Was this the very same one? Why did they let him keep it?” Gregor, who had now noticed me, grinned smugly and pranced over. After giving a few practice jabs, he began to wave it dangerously close to my face.
“I bet you like this,” he taunted, bringing the weapon ever closer. “This is the finest sword that money can buy.”
“Funny how you have your hands on it,” I mumbled, now turning to retreat back to the campsite. Gregor followed to carry on with his gloating. “This beautiful creation you see here is the end product of twenty years hard work with a dozen of the finest smiths alive. My father, the one who purchased this fine artifact, was the richest lord in all of Zaphris.”
“Strange. You wouldn’t be here if he still was.” Gregor flinched, not expecting a retort from me.
“He's been gone for awhile now, he said coldly. “However unlike others, I don’t give a damn about the past.” Slowly bringing the sword to his side, Gregor began to cradle it with the same affection a mother might with a newborn child. “You see where I am don’t you Sunshine? You see what I’ve done by just being me?” Gregor chortled loudly. “I practically have the Grimlars by my knees. My father didn’t do that. I did that.”
Pegging the sword near my foot, Gregor strolled up to me, and gave me a firm tap in the opposite direction. “We’ll leave soon,” he stated, jerkily shooing me away. “Alert the camp of my arrival and arrange for a meeting in five minutes.” Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he yanked my ear to his mouth. “While you’re at it Sunshine, buy yourself a real sword with all the gold your parents left you when they died.” Avoiding Gregor’s gaze, my eyes caught the name of his sword etched with large letters into its hilt. Venom.
Once at the meeting, Gregor eyed each person individually for what felt like minutes before beginning to lecture in a proud voice. “Right. As most of us will remember from yesterday, Alexi had dropped the flags, from account of... What was it Alexi?” The largest of the group gave an embarrassed and made a constant point of looking at his feet. Gregor grinned, sensing his superiority over the helpless figure before him. “Don't be shy! We want to learn from your mistakes. Don't we boys?” he asked before turning to the rest of the trainees.
“Yes chief Gregor!” Seeming satisfied with this answer, Gregor diverted his attention back to Alex, who was trembling at the fingertips.
“Sore thumbs,” Alexi coughed after a good deal of grumbling and guffawing.
“Well,” said Gregor taken aback. “Isn’t that horrible.” No one dared a quick snicker. No one dared any movement, for fear that Gregor would target them next. Alexi partially closed his eyes and let out a small whimper as Gregor stepped forward. Gregor dismissed this with a quick nod of his head.
“Because every great warrior gets a sore thumb now and then, we're going to have two people carrying the flags today,” Gregor said, pointedly looking at the teary eyed Alexi. “I do not expect any of you to go slow or falter in this fight. Assuming all goes to plan we should be able to finish this in maybe a couple of hours. Gregor pointed to another weedy looking kid who flinched terribly. “I’m relieving you of your fighting duties. You’ll be helping Alexi here with the flag, understood?”
The weedy looking kid bobbed his head, looking greatly eager to please. Gregor seemed to take little notice.
“The rest of us will be fighting the gauntlet. Gods help the strong ones,” he spat, now glaring at me straight in the eyes. “Me and this one here will take the front,” Gregor said before grabbing Preston by the bone of his neck. “You there, yes, the ugly one. You're with Sunshine. Guard the back at all costs. Understood?”
“Yes chief Gregor!”
I slammed my key into the socket and jerked it to the right. Unsheathing my maroon flag, I was immediately overcome by the sheer amount of force required to keep it level through the breeze. I handed it to Alexi who took it with a dull responsive grunt. Looking at the earth just beyond the mural, I began to tremble as a frail flower might in a storm. It seemed no more deadly than a lofty winter path leading down into a frosty bowl of sleet, however I knew what was under the surface. The flags whistled quietly, as they gently swayed wherever the wind took them. From somewhere off in the distance, Gregor’s voice boomed out.
“Departure set in five... four... three...” My sword slipped slightly in my hand with a cold sweat.
“Two...” Through the gaps in the flags, I could see Preston’s jaw clattering from cold fear.
“One...” Gregor hesitated, as if suddenly unsure he wanted to carry on. He took a sharp intake of breath as if about to be submerged underwater. “Go, Go, GO!” His voice broke from the effort needed to double the volume of each word out of his mouth. I almost tripped over my own two feet as the group hustled out with explosive energy.
The moment our flags left the pedestal, a mountain of sound was birthed onto the hillside so powerful it made my eyes swim. Vine after discoloured vine sprang up, each shredding the earth as they flailed towards us. I slashed instinctively but was caught off guard by the size and speed of roots attacking us. They must have been just as tall as the flags Alexi was carrying if not just as thick. My blade forced its way through the base of one withered root, however this was instantly replaced with two more emerging from the earth.
“Faster!” Gregor roared, easily sidestepping three of the roots which lunged after him. “We’re wasting time again! Get a rhythm going!” Gregor’s sword seemed to quiver with a certain unrestrained lust, which grew stronger with every root it diced. The wielder in fact, seemed more interested in the actual sword than in the roots trying to destroy him.
I on the other hand was stumbling backward, flailing and cutting up what I could in a fit of panic. The larger trainee to my right threw flames from his hands which unfortunately didn’t seem to bother the thick twine of the gauntlet. The flags fluttered dangerously fast in the stormy winds. It was a wonder that Alexi managed to hold onto them by himself yesterday, when he appeared to be struggling even with another kid to help him.
A weak scream echoed from somewhere behind me and without hesitation I turned to look, thinking that it had been Preston. The recoiling whiplash of a smaller root forced my attention back to the fight. A thick root barbarically slapped the ground beside me, throwing a thick cloud of snow into the air and obscuring my vision for a terrifying second. After barely avoiding a vine whistling through the air in front of me, I sluggishly swung my sword and missed completely. I sped up my breathing in the hopes that it would somehow stop the jarring pains in my chest. It didn’t.
The gauntlet seemed to notice our fatigue and sped up it’s assault in retaliation. A half an hour had passed, and my sword became lead. My arms turned into twigs. Every strike I dealt sent wild amounts of pain down my arms. Was there anything I’d be missing out if I were to give up right now? I was tired, sad and worst of all, not even a tiny bit scared. Everything seemed just so surreal.
“How you doing Alexi?” I heard Gregor shout over the sound of the dirt churning.
“Bad!” Came the response. “We can’t go on much longer!” From a distance, I could see we were about halfway to the opening in the wall.
“Jacob! We need you to stop these roots!” Gregor bellowed. “Push them back with your anti-magic!”
“I can’t!” I whimpered earnestly.
Gregor didn’t respond. I was tempted to look over my shoulder, yet couldn’t begause of the gauntlet
> I stumbled as the edges of my vision began to bleed out from both sides of my head. What little I could see had now taken on a green tint, as if I was looking at the world through grass coloured lenses. I gripped my chest with my free hand and tried to deepen my breaths. “What’s going on?” I wondered, looking around desperately. I suddenly went stiff from panic. Preston had fallen to the ground and was being pelted by the gauntlet.
The anti-magic flew from my hands before I could even scream in denial. A thick mottled wall made from the distorted earth sprung in front of me, protecting the back side of our party from the majority of the gauntlet. I reached down to grab Preston but flinched when my hand passed straight through his body. Preston’s eyes began to glow bright green. He grinned at me briefly as if we were sharing an inside joke before vanishing altogether.
I looked behind me and breathed a sigh of relief as I saw that the real Preston was still bouncing around and still unhurt. I made brief eye contact with Gregor, who smiled in that same sadistic way that the fake Preston had.
Gift of Gold (The Year of Churning Bloods) Page 9
