The Doomsday Trial

by Claire Luana

  I cringed at the size discrepancy between them, Ario sitting tall on the huge black horse and tiny Peachkin who was jumping up and down, excitement etched into his features.

  At least, no one could die in this game, I thought as Ario materialized a sword from nowhere and pointed it at Peachkin. Taking a step back, I decided to watch the match rather than be a part of it. We couldn’t win. It just wasn’t possible. For one thing, they’d taken us, and this was now their square for this round, but most importantly, we couldn’t win because a slightly deranged little leprechaun was no match for a powerful incubus.

  I was resigned to our loss, but at the same time, hoped Peachkin could persuade Ario to do a jig with him once it was all over.

  Peachkin let out a battle cry that was surprisingly fierce and charged at Ario’s mount. The horse reared in alarm and Peachkin swiped with his sword, slashing the horse’s side. The black beast screamed in outrage, and my mouth drew into a thin line. Low blow, Peachkin. It wasn’t the horse’s fault. It was one thing to pummel a pompous incubus, another to harm a helpless animal.

  Ario struggled to get his mount under control as the horse danced back away from Peachkin’s sharp little blade. In the end, he freed his feet from the stirrups and kinda rolled off the side, landing on the ground in an undignified heap.

  I couldn’t resist my snort of delight.

  Ario pushed to his feet, a black look on his face. He clearly didn’t like losing face on television. He retrieved his sword and surged forward, swinging the huge blade at Peachkin, who barely managed to get his own tiny sword up to parry. Ario’s sword was as long as Peachkin was tall, and though the leprechaun was fast, Ario’s reach and superior strength were sure to end it soon.

  The two attackers were a strange sight—one tall and dark, his handsome face set in grim determination, the other small and green, yet with a merry smile on his face even as Ario slipped through Peachkin’s guard, the tip of his blade slicing the leprechaun’s arm.

  I straightened and turned to Orin. “What the hell? Wasn’t there supposed to be a magical shield? Like the other leprechaun?”

  “I’m sure it’ll kick in before a mortal blow. That was just a flesh wound,” Orin said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

  Ario was like a shark, driven into a frenzy at the sight of blood. He hacked and swung at Peachkin with furious power, driving the leprechaun back until he stumbled, falling on his backside.

  “Peachkin!” I cried as Ario stepped in to end the battle. He reared back and stabbed Peachkin right in the chest.

  I recoiled with shock as green blood poured from the wound, as Peachkin groaned in pain. “What did you do?” I screamed at Ario as he stepped back, purple confetti bursting into the air around him.

  Orin and I ran to Peachkin’s side, batting away the cursed confetti. Fucking Faerie Race! Did they have no shame? A player was injured, and they were throwing confetti!

  Orin cradled Peachkin’s head as I took his hands. “Are you okay?” I asked, though it was clear he wasn’t. His green-tinged skin was pale, making him look even stranger, and the mirthful glee had left his face, replaced with lines of pain.

  “Can you heal him?” I asked Orin, trying to hold in some of Peachkin’s blood. Flashbacks exploded through my mind like fireworks—Ben’s red blood spilled on white sand—Orin and I trying to save him. My stomach roiled as I struggled to focus on Peachkin, to stay in the present. Why did this keep happening to us? To me?

  Orin’s eyes were closed, and his hands moved over Peachkin’s wound. I knew he didn’t have much skill with healing magic, but perhaps he could do something to keep the leprechaun alive until a medical team could get here. “He’s slipping.”

  “Stay with us!” I cried, taking hold of Peachkin’s little hand.

  But his eyes were fluttering closed. “Was…an…honor,” he gasped. Then his head slipped to the side, the life gone from him.

  Orin and I stayed still for a moment, looking at each other with anguished hearts, Peachkin’s body stretched out between us. Then Orin tenderly set Peachkin’s head down on the cobblestones, and we both stood, turning to the other team. Wrath rose within me as I beheld Tristam, Sophia, and Ario, whose sword still dripped green blood.

  “What. Did. You. Do!” I screamed at them, pointing my finger like a dagger. “The pieces are supposed to be shielded! This isn’t supposed to be a battle to the death! This is a fucking reality TV show!” In some distant recess of my mind, I knew that I was coming completely unmoored. But I did not give a flying fuck.

  To their credit, Ario, Tristam, and Sophia all looked shocked as hell. “I didn’t think I would kill him!” Ario said, throwing the sword down. “I swear! We thought he’d be protected like our pawn was! I thought…I’d score what would have been a killing blow, and the round would be over! I’m not a murderer! Why the hell would I want to kill some little leprechaun?”

  “I don’t know, maybe because you’re a psychopath! Like everyone else in this race!” I felt Orin try to grab one of my arms to restrain me, but I shoved him off before turning my rage on Tristam. “You did this. You and your father. This race has been rigged in your favor every step of the way! This is just another ploy by the mighty Obanstones!”

  “Jacq, I swear, we didn’t do this,” Tristam said. “Why would I want innocent faeries to die?”

  “You’re lying,” Orin said next to me, his voice low and deadly. “Every word that comes out of your mouth is a lie.” He stepped menacingly towards Tristam, and it was my turn to grab for his arm. As furious as I was right now, this couldn’t devolve into blows. We had bigger things to worry about. Like what the hell our next move would be. And what to do with Peachkin’s body.

  But when I glanced back at the leprechaun, his body had vanished. “Orin, look,” I tugged on his sleeve. He glanced back, and uncertainty played across his face.

  “See,” Sophia said. “Maybe he wasn’t even real. Maybe he was some sort of faerie…hologram spell.”

  I scoffed. “Ario, are you real? Do you feel like a holographic spell?” I strode forward and seized his sword from the ground where he’d dropped it. “Maybe I should stab you and see if you’re nothing more than air.”

  The three of them shied back from me, Ario’s hands flying up before him.

  “Jesus, Jacq, quit with the drama,” Sophia said, shaking her head.

  I thought my head was going to explode. I swung the sword at her, pointing with the tip. “Oh, that is rich. You are calling me dramatic?”

  “Okay, we’re not going to accomplish anything here,” Tristam said. “I’m telling you we didn’t sabotage your shields. You don’t believe me. That’s fine. It doesn’t change anything. The race goes on.”

  “It changes everything!” I cried. “For us, it changes everything! My mom is here, Tristam! Orin’s dad!” Oh god. I hadn’t fully realized before that moment what it meant. My mom was in real danger.

  I thought I saw a flicker of sympathy cross Tristam’s face. I chose to ignore it. “Just get the hell out of here.”

  Tristam and Sophia turned on their heel as Ario went back to retrieve his horse’s reins. He hesitated.

  “What do you want?” I barked at him. My voice was growing hoarse.

  “Can I have my sword back?” he asked.

  “No,” I snapped. “I’m keeping it.”

  He pressed his lips together and gave a little nod before he turned and led his horse away.

  Orin and I were quiet for a good moment before he turned to me. “I can’t believe you kept his sword.”

  The ridiculousness of what I’d said washed over me, and I started to laugh, tears springing to my eyes.

  “Come here,” Orin said, pulling me into his arms. I let the sword drop with a clang, embracing him.

  I sobbed into his shirt, balling my hands into fists in his shirt. “Poor Peachkin. He was such a little weirdo. He didn’t deserve to die.”

  “No one does,” Orin said, rubbing my back.


  Except the royal Obanstones, I thought. But I kept the sentiment to myself, as I didn’t think spouting treasonous sentiment on TV was a particularly good idea.

  Finally, Orin released me, and I wiped my eyes.

  “We need to get moving.”

  I nodded. “Orin…our parents. We can’t play this chess game for keeps anymore. We need to protect our pieces. At all costs.”

  “I know,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “How?” I asked. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Orin ran his hands through his hair, considering. “Maybe…maybe the race won’t protect our pieces, but that doesn’t mean we can’t. We need to find our own protection spell.”

  Hope blossomed in me. That was a good idea. “Do you know a spell like that? That’s powerful enough?”

  “No, but I know someone who does. It’s time we go see my father.”

  13

  The walk back through the squares we’d already passed seemed so much longer now that I was carrying the weight of Peachkin’s death on my shoulders. I barely noticed the streets turning from black to white and back again as we tramped through them, this time without our little companion.

  I was hyper-aware of Ruth walking behind us with her camera. She’d filmed it all—Ario’s sword slicing through Peachkin—the leprechaun’s green blood leaking onto the cobblestones. Yes, we were being filmed. Ruth hadn’t left our side for a second, but did they really intend to air that footage? This race had turned from a harmless reality TV show into something much more terrifying. The rules didn’t apply anymore.

  A chilling thought struck me. What if the studio wasn’t in charge anymore? What if the Brotherhood and King Obanstone had taken over? I kept the sentiment to myself. It didn’t change anything. We needed to play along if we had any hope of discovering the last anchor point and thwarting the Brotherhood’s scheme.

  As we walked past the library, it took everything I had not to go back inside and speak to my mom again. I longed to see that she was still all right, but we needed to go see Orin’s father more. It was the only way we’d be able to protect her if the fight came to her. Still, as we passed the doors, my heart ached with a pain so raw that I had to take several deep breaths in an effort to swallow the feeling.

  Orin gripped my hand more tightly, and I swore I heard him whisper that we’d get her out. It was so quiet, it could have been the wind, and with Ruth following so closely behind, I didn’t want to ask him to repeat it. It comforted me, nonetheless.

  We passed over to the black square and began our hunt for our king, Orin’s father.

  In the last square, the library had been the obvious choice as it was the biggest building in that area, but this square had nothing obvious. Peachkin had made himself known on the first square, but looking up and down the empty street, it was clear that Orin’s father wasn’t going to do the same.

  “Which way?” Orin asked, glancing both ways at the T-junction that marked the border between squares.

  I shrugged my shoulders. They both looked the same and as there were no defining features about either direction I figured it didn’t really matter. “You choose.”

  We turned left and walked up the street. Here there were no shops, just rows of pretty little cottages. It was so sad that they were all now deserted, their owners having been ordered to leave. They were yet another victim in this supposed game.

  “Where do you think all the people are?”

  “What people?” Orin asked without breaking a stride.

  “The people who lived here. There must be over a thousand displaced families because of this race.”

  “If you worry about that on top of everything else, you’ll go mad. Let’s just pretend they’re all on …vacation somewhere. It’s easier that way, and we don’t have to say any more on the subject.”

  He was right, of course. I had enough on my plate with trying to keep myself, my sister, and my mother alive and stop faerie Armageddon. I didn’t need to take on more worry about perfect strangers. But I couldn’t help it. How many people had the king hurt to get what he wanted? The guy was ruthless.

  We, on the other hand, were not Ruth-less. She was behind us filming every word I said so I elected to do what Orin said and keep my mouth shut.

  After walking through the streets for a while, we came upon a small village square. In the center was a statue commemorating some local hero, and on the steps below it, a newspaper in hand, sat a faerie male. It must be Orin’s father.

  When he saw Orin, he dropped the paper and strode over to us. “Orin, my son, you have done me proud.”

  He was a tall male with Orin’s same dark features, albeit with bushier eyebrows and a thick black mustache. He looked a little like a faerie Tom Selleck. His jet-black hair was streaked with silver. He held out his hand for Orin to shake, but Orin grabbed it and pulled him into a hug. I grinned at the shock on his father’s face as his son held him tightly. Something told me that this was the first hug that these two males had ever shared. At least one good thing had come out of this ridiculous race.

  I thought I saw a tear glimmer in the male’s eye, but as he pulled out of Orin’s embrace, he coughed and pulled a handkerchief from his coat and dabbed it away. He turned to me, and this time, when he held his hand out, I shook it rather than hugging him. I had a feeling one hug was enough for him to cope with.

  “Fine looking partner you have, Orin,” he said. He turned back to me. “And a feisty one too. I’ve been watching you both on the show, and I have to say, I never thought a human would get as far as you have. I tip my hat to the pair of you. My name’s Octavio, by the way. I thought I should introduce myself, seeing as Orin forgot his manners.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” I didn’t exactly love being called a “fine looking one” like I was a prize cow, but I supposed his other compliments made up for it. And things were different here in Faerwild, right? I chose to give Octavio the benefit of the doubt.

  “What’s that?” he shouted all of a sudden, gazing over my head, shock written across his features. “Did the other team follow you? I just saw them running down the street. A dragon was chasing them, but I think they lost their camera person.”

  I turned around in alarm. If Tristam and Sophia were here, the game was definitely rigged. And a dragon? Again? All I saw was Ruth who’d spun her camera around quickly to capture the action.

  The street was empty, but a huge roar filled the air, making my heart hammer in my chest. Why had I left Ario’s sword behind?

  “What should we do?” I asked, turning to Orin in a panic. He was surprisingly calm about the situation.

  “I think we should leave them to it. Although, watching the crown prince get burned to a crisp would make great TV,” said Orin, speaking loudly.

  I saw a sly look pass between father and son. What was going on?

  “Shame they don’t have their camera person to capture it,” Octavio added.

  That was all Ruth needed to pelt off after them. She ran across the square and around the corner so fast it was almost as if her shoes were on fire.

  When I turned back to the males, they were laughing. “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.

  “There’s no dragon, right?” Orin asked.

  “I very much doubt it. The roar was just a little bit of tomfoolery on my part. Hopefully, it will keep her away long enough for me to speak to you. Here, come look at this interesting article I was just reading in the paper.”

  Thoroughly confused, I followed the two males back to the statue where Orin’s dad picked up the paper he’d dropped. He retrieved it and held it out in front of him.

  “Come closer,” he whispered. We did as he asked and moved behind him so that we were looking over his shoulder and the three of our heads were practically touching.

  “The paper is the only way to hide from the cameras,” he whispered. “See what I mean. Robots, eh?” he shouted out a little too loudly. He lowered his
voice once again. “We need them to think we’re looking at an article, so play along.“

  I nodded my head. “Robots are a growing trend,” I said clearly and loudly.

  Octavio’s handsome face grew serious. “You two need to get out of Elfame. Get out now, and by whatever means you can.”

  Orin recoiled slightly. “We can’t. We’re so close. Winning is the only chance I have to free you and Mother from your servitude.”

  Octavio shook his head so violently that the paper shook in his hands. “No, son. The game is rigged. It’s always been rigged. You will not get out of it alive if you keep playing. Now, you can’t go forward because a magical field will always block your path, but there is nothing stopping you from heading back off the edge of the playing field. Go far away. Go to the human realm if you have to.”

  “If we don’t win the race, you and Mother will be the king’s slaves for another eighty years. If he even lets you go then! He seems to rely on Mother’s magic.”

  Octavio growled. “The fate of two faeries is inconsequential in all this. You mother and I have agreed that you are more important. They plan on bringing together our realms, and if they do that, the consequences will be dire. Just get out while you still can.”

  I chimed in. “We already know that. That’s the other reason we can’t leave. We know the Brotherhood has MEDs planted and there’s one nearby, somewhere in the old city. We’re looking for it.” I opened my eyes wide. “Do you have any idea where it might be?”

  Octavio shook his head. “Though Ramona did overhear something important. Those MEDs are more dangerous than you even realize,” Octavio said. “To trigger the magic spell component of the explosive, there must be a sacrifice. Of human blood. Whose blood do you think they’ll go after?” He turned and gave me a pointed look, but before I could answer a scream rang in my ears. Dropping the paper, we all looked up to see Ruth racing across the cobblestones, this time her camera hung at her side rather than sitting in its usual place on her shoulder.

  She screamed again, but her voice was lost in a buzzing roar. My eyes flew open. There was what could only be described as—a horde of bees behind her. A swarm of bees would be scary enough, but this was clearly no ordinary swarm. The mass of them wove together and morphed to form a face like a laughing skull. I’d never seen anything so spine-chillingly horrific in my whole life.