The Girl Who Dared to Think 4: The Girl Who Dared to Rise

by Bella Forrest

  Tian stared at me for a long second, her features scrunched up into a scowl. “Can you promise that you won’t do anything dangerous in the Tourney?”

  I shook my head. “You know I can’t.”

  “Then don’t ask me to,” she replied, holding my gaze with a blaze of determination.

  “That’s not the same, Tian,” I said softly. “But… just try, okay?”

  Her jaw held a stubborn set, but she nodded, just once, as the door buzzed again, repeating its demand.

  “Go hide,” I told her, and then turned to the door and squared my shoulders. It was time to finish this.

  “Congratulations, candidate,” Scipio said, his face glowing in the relative darkness of the room I had just been deposited into. I was alone now, having been separated from Leo and Maddox almost as soon as we entered the halls beneath the arena. I hadn’t liked it, but there was nothing any of us could do as they guided us toward different paths. The official who had led me here had finally broken down enough to reveal that we would all be placed near each other, but that was all I got.

  My equipment was assigned, and once again I did little to put it on myself, just nodding or shaking my head to answer the official’s questions regarding my comfort. She dressed me, taking careful pains to make sure that everything worked the way it was supposed to.

  Truthfully, her hands and presence had made me jumpier than a cat in a cucumber patch, and for half of it I was certain that I was going to pass out, I was so lightheaded.

  Thank Scipio the officials either didn’t notice or were too professional to comment. Maybe they’d been coached to be prepared for a candidate freak-out prior to the final challenge. I couldn’t be the only one apprehensive about what was to come, could I?

  Either way, I was relieved when I was deposited into the final room alone, and I carefully shook out my limbs and arms, trying to get the pins and needles to settle, while listening to Scipio’s speech. My heart was pounding loudly in my ears, making it difficult for me to really focus on what he was saying, but I managed to catch most of it, using his words to help draw me back into the moment.

  “—The challenges you face here will be like nothing you have faced before,” he assured me solemnly, his dark blue eyes burning holes into mine. “The Battle for Six Bells will test your coordination, speed, and reactionary abilities. As you are well aware, not all of the candidates present in the challenge will be bidding for position; many of them will be trying to support their own candidates. The use of violence is authorized, but do not cause permanent harm to the other candidates, and keep a careful eye on your environment. The parameters are simple: the first to navigate the course and ring all six bells within three seconds will be the winner of the challenge, the Champion of the Tourney, and in all likelihood, the new head of the Knights Department, once the final votes from the Knights are taken into consideration. They will inherit the responsibilities that go along with that duty, including the obligation of the safety and wellbeing of the Tower. May honor, fortitude, and luck be with you, and may the best Knight win.”

  His image lingered for a second later, and then disappeared, leaving me in the dimly lit compartment, my stomach now twisted into knots. I had so many enemies going into this, and even with Maddox, Leo, and my mother backing me up, I couldn’t be certain that I’d win.

  Hell, I couldn’t be certain I’d make it through the course. Dylan would be gunning for me, and so would Zale—and because of him, Min-Ha and my father, both of whom were formidable fighters. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Min-Ha would actually target me specifically, given our interaction in the last challenge. I felt confident that I had earned her respect—but that didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. Especially if she felt that Zale was better suited for the position.

  Then there was Frederick. I hadn’t had to fight him yet, but the vids taken of him during the Tourney revealed that he relied heavily on speed and agility. Agility I had, and speed as well, but not as much as him.

  I would have to steer clear of them all, and try to get to the bells as soon as possible.

  The screen glowed with the familiar instructions: Stand in the center of the room. I exhaled, and then moved over to the centermost part of the room, twisting my head around to try to relieve some of the tension. When the plate began to slide up, I was ready, and this time focused my gaze forward, not wanting to get overwhelmed by the view that looking up would bring, or the sickening, queasy sensation it produced.

  I had placed myself in what I believed was a forward position, based on where the door had been in the other room, so I held perfectly still and waited, trying not to think about the door above me that still wasn’t open, or the fact that if anyone had tampered with it, I’d be nothing but a splat against the ceiling.

  My heart galloped in my chest, and my breath puffed in and out as the rapidly moving elevator continued to rise. Then light exploded from everywhere, temporarily blinding me and causing me to close my eyes.

  When my eyes were opened, and focused again, I couldn’t help but gape at the nightmare in front of me.

  32

  The elevator had deposited me on a long wall that was nearly fifty feet tall and ran in a circle around the edge of the arena. The top of the wall was flat, but not very wide; two feet in either direction would send me plummeting down. But that wasn’t what held my attention or rapidly growing concern.

  There were two concentric rings set into the ceiling, with enormous metal structures dangling from them, around a central free-hanging column in the center of the chaos, with six lonely silver bells at the bottom, waiting for someone to ring them. That was not going to be easy. The inner and outer rings were rotating, propelled in opposite directions like some sort of demented carousel—causing the giant metal structures to move, too. The inner ring was moving much faster than the outer, and in order to get to the column in the center, I would have to pass through both. Which meant lashing onto the dangling dark chunks of metal that were of all shapes and sizes—some as simple as a rectangular wall, but others far more complex and daunting. One was shaped like the corkscrew of a pig’s tail, another curved like an S. There were even more odd shapes behind those, all of them twisting and spinning together in a shifting obstacle course.

  The closest thing I could compare the massive structures to were windchimes. And it was easy to see what the designers wanted—we had to navigate around each metal object using our lashes to get to the center, where that central column hung, a solid and still target that was a beacon of calm in the riot of motion.

  I quickly recognized that the biggest problem would be balance: the structures had been designed to swing freely, so that any extra weight in the wrong place would cause it to swing out of place or spin faster. I had to be careful about which structure I chose, and where I landed. If I didn’t, I could be thrown off—or collide with one of the other swinging structures, if any of their orbits overlapped.

  I looked around the pathway I was on, suddenly recalling that others would be on it as well. I saw Leo already making his way toward me from the left, and then Maddox on my right. As I watched Maddox, she suddenly seemed to notice something behind her, and she whirled and began sprinting.

  “Leo! Get Liana through that crap!” she shouted, her voice barely audible. “I’ll handle Dylan!”

  Confused, I looked past Maddox, momentarily losing her behind a new metal structure that was swinging into view—this one looked like a massive screwdriver or drill, poised to tear through the ground below. From just past it, I caught a quick glimpse of Dylan’s familiar form racing away from Maddox—and realized that my teammate was angling to take on the competition early, in an effort to slow Dylan down and give me a chance to get to the column.

  Fear suddenly pounded in my heart, and I wanted to shout for Maddox to get back, but Leo reached me, grabbing me and spinning me around to face him. “I came up next to Frederick,” he said, his eyes wide. “He’s already made it to one of
the structures. We have to move.”

  “But Maddox!” I said. “She just ran off without backup, against Dylan! We can’t leave her alone!”

  Leo hesitated, looking past my shoulder, and then shook his head. “No. My priority is getting you to that column. The faster we get there, the sooner you can ring those bells and end this.”

  I stared at him, and then clenched my teeth. He was right to a point, but he wasn’t taking into account Maddox’s recent trauma. She was trying to help me, she was doing it without backup, and I was worried that her recklessness would get her hurt or killed.

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Leo’s eyes suddenly widened, looking past my shoulder, and then he shoved me down, shouting, “Watch out!”

  I tensed, my hands automatically coming up to protect my face while I bent forward, ducking. Leo’s hands were firmly pressing against my shoulders, helping me get low, and then suddenly they slid off me. Leo gave a grunt, and I lowered my hands and arms enough to see him being dragged off the side of the wall, his arms stretching toward me.

  I reached for him, trying to grab his arm to keep him from falling. Our fingertips brushed, briefly, and then he was too far away. I watched, horrified that he was falling, and then realized he wasn’t. He was being dragged back and up, and as I followed his trajectory, I saw a figure in crimson standing atop a structure that had just swung by, long black hair streaming. I met Min-Ha’s eyes from across the widening gap, and she gave me an apologetic smile before focusing on the task of reeling Leo in.

  I realized that I had been her target, but Leo had gotten in the way, taking the hit from her lash. A flash of resentment went through me—slight betrayal by her actions after the earlier challenge—but it was followed closely by relief. Min-Ha was a lot of things, and at the top of that list of descriptors was the most important one: she was honorable. That meant that even though she had grabbed Leo, she wouldn’t drop him; she’d make sure he was securely attached to the wall, even if she knocked him unconscious.

  Not that she would, of course. Min-Ha was an excellent fighter, but Leo could hold his own and then some. I had no doubt he would overcome her easily.

  But the fact remained that I was alone. Maddox was off chasing Dylan, and Leo had been grabbed. And I couldn’t go after either of them, because that would only waste even more time.

  Leo was right. I needed to get to the bells. Now.

  I gritted my teeth and turned my back to Leo as he disappeared from view, dismissing the obstacle already passing me and focusing on the one that was swinging into view. My palms were sweating, and I wiped them against my thighs, studying the oncoming structure which reminded me of a massive chandelier.

  I had to hurry. It was approaching quickly and would pass me completely if I didn’t start running.

  Immediately.

  I turned and began to sprint, my arms and legs pumping. I became aware of a soft squeaking, and glanced over my shoulder at the oncoming chandelier, trying to gauge how close it was and where and when I would need to jump. As the edge of it began to swing past me, I realized that the entire structure was twisting.

  That wasn’t a good sign. As soon as I latched onto it, my weight at the end of a long line would increase the speed of that spin, and if I didn’t reel myself in fast enough, I could smack into one of the other obstacles, with such force that it would break every bone in my body.

  But I couldn’t wait for the next one. If I did that, it would give the other candidates more time to beat me to the bells. Hell, I’d given them too much time already.

  I yanked a lash end from where it sat on the inside of my sleeve and pulled out a few feet so I could spin the short length in my hand, building up the static charge. Now that the chandelier was passing me, I faced forward and kept an eye on it, watching the gap between the structure and the wall grow narrower as it drew past. I waited for as long as I could, my heart pounding and my chest heaving, and then leapt out into the open space, my arms and legs still pumping even as I left the solid ground. My heart thudded once, twice, thrice, and then I cast my line just as gravity began to pull me down, using my hand controls to let the line fly free.

  My throw was true, and a second later the lash end hit the structure with a blue flash. I instantly reversed the gyro at my back to pull in the line and reel me up, but the ring began to spin faster anyway, unbalanced by my weight. I flinched as a shadow caught the corner of my eye, revealing a beam swinging for me—I tucked my legs up to my chest and pulled myself up hand over hand, praying.

  The other structure missed me by mere inches, coming close enough that a breeze formed against the back of my neck and sent chills down my spine. I stiffened, and then exhaled in relief as I realized it was gone.

  The winch in my harness finished pulling me in, and I grabbed onto the base of the chandelier, hooking my arms over the metal frame and trying to squeeze as close to it as possible, in an attempt to slow the momentum I had generated with my landing.

  The world spun as the ring continued to revolve, but after a few passes, it began to slow to a more reasonable rate, and I dared to look at my surroundings. The ring was carrying me back around, so that my back was facing the wall I had leapt off of moments before. I drew my gaze toward the central column and the inner row of dangling metal structures, trying to figure out my next move.

  I quickly realized I would have to climb higher first. The inner obstacles were much shorter than the outer ones, making it impossible for me to lash onto one from where I was situated.

  Letting go with one hand, I focused on a section of the chandelier a few feet above me, then threw my lash. It caught, and within seconds my gyros were whirring lightly against my back, reeling in the line. I flicked my other arm out, repeating the process to climb higher up the structure. The obstacle course swung on, but I did my best to ignore the motion, focusing completely on my task of getting up high enough to transition into the inner ring of obstacles.

  After throwing my fourth lash, I paused for a moment to get my bearings, holding onto the edge with both hands, anchored by my lashes. My heart sank when the inner circle of obstacles came into view. The structure I was about to pass was a thin metal tube, and it carried a solitary crimson figure with light brown hair. He was climbing up it, using his lashes to ascend as it swung back and forth. It was Frederick, and even though he was just beginning his climb, it chilled me to see him so much closer to the bells than I was.

  I was still too low to reach the tube, and I didn’t like the idea of being underneath him—because he could easily drop down and knock me off.

  I shifted my gaze past him, studying the next structure in the line, and saw that it was also a bit out of reach from my current position. Not only that; I saw not one, but several crimson figures clinging to that one. Like the one Frederick was on, it was too high for me to reach. I looked toward the top of the chandelier.

  I had to get higher.

  I breathed in, then slowly prepared to throw another lash. This throw would be trickier, as the higher I climbed up the chandelier, the thinner the frame became—which meant less space for my lash to stick.

  I distributed my weight to one of my hands, pulled the line tight with my other, and then, taking a few more huffing breaths that only served to distract me from the fact that I was about to stand on a very thin strip of metal over a very long fall, stood up.

  I wobbled, my heart dropping into the pit of my stomach, and then caught my balance, relying heavily on the connected line.

  “Don’t disconnect,” I breathed to it, gingerly starting to look up. Vertigo assailed me as I caught view of one of the structures spinning past, and I continued to tilt my head toward the next section of the chandelier, adding a very stern, “And don’t throw up,” by way of a pep talk.

  I swallowed the nausea the sight had stirred up in my stomach and sucked in a deep breath, focusing on the relative stillness of the metal above me. I gathered up the line in my hand, spun, and cast.

  It
hit dead center, and I reeled the line in tight, and began drawing myself in.

  I was halfway up, when there was a loud, metallic clang, and the line suddenly jerked violently, tossing me around like a ragdoll. I was so shocked by the sudden movement that all I could do was hold on, shake with terror, and close my eyes, trying not to lose the contents of my stomach. It stopped suddenly, but the line was vibrating with such intensity that I could feel it where it ran through my suit and down my side. I immediately looked up, my heart in my throat, concerned about the lash-end connection.

  It had shifted several inches down from where I had initially thrown it, and was now only a few short inches away from the bottom edge of the frame it was attached to.

  I immediately threw my secondary line, my limbs quivering with fear that whatever had hit it would strike again, and I would be ripped free. It landed a few inches from the first lash, and I sagged into the harness, sweat pouring down from my hairline as I set both lines to reel me up.

  As they worked, I started looking around, trying to figure out what had hit me. I assumed that it was another obstacle that had been offset by a candidate leaping onto it, and immediately searched for a telltale flash of crimson. Instead, as I swiveled my head around as far behind me as I could, I found a dark figure with a tattered cloak clinging to the opposite side of the chandelier’s frame, its eyes twin red flames.

  33

  The sentinel wasn’t looking at me. Instead, its head swiveled around as it scanned the arena, its lethal weapon gripped in one fist. I stared at it, dangling helplessly and perfectly exposed. If it saw me, then there was every chance it would shoot me. Hell, it was probably here for that reason!

  I had to climb more quickly. Once I got higher up the chandelier, I’d be one step closer to making it to the inner ring, where I could figure out what I was going to do. I turned away from the sentinel, the muscles in my neck anticipating an attack, but focused on the metal frame above me.