She glanced again at Bonebreak’s torn shielding, fighting a sharp wave of grief for the Mosca. She shook her head. “I won’t let you do this.”
“My life will be in your hands. And I trust you.”
The room lurched again sharply. Someone screamed, and a terrible sound came from the rafters. Metal squealed. Wires sparked. The roof peeled a few feet away from the walls as wind and rain and sleet pelted them. The storm was snarling its way in.
“Come on!” Cassian yelled above the roar.
The central vestibule had almost entirely turned on its side now, with the Axion and others hanging on to the fixtures to keep from falling. One of the Axion tried to swing for the portal door, but Serassi gave him a sharp kick, and he tumbled down. Cassian helped Cora climb toward the door. She protested, shaking her head.
He met her eyes.
And then he threw them both into the Gauntlet.
36
Cora
THE PORTAL DOOR DISAPPEARED behind them.
For a second, Cora fought to catch her breath in the darkness. The door had sealed out the sounds of the battle, but the newfound quiet was an illusion. She knew her friends were just on the other side of the wall, fighting for their lives, and that the storm was tearing the structure apart.
“Cassian?” She coughed out smoke. She reached toward the darkness, fingers grasping nothing. “Cassian, where are you?”
“Cora? I’m here.”
She stumbled toward his voice. “Where? I can’t see you!”
The walls began to emit a faint light. It grew like a sunrise and she spun around, searching for him, fearful of what else might lurk in the room with them. There were tall pillars in the chamber, obscuring her view. Her senses felt heightened and more alert thanks to Serassi’s injection, and as she wove around the pillars in the faint light, intuition told her that something about this chamber wasn’t what it seemed. Then—there. A shape took form in the light. Tall, impossibly muscular. Cassian. He was on the opposite side of the room, clutching his hurt arm, his back to her as he searched for her amid the pillars.
“Cassian!”
He spun and their eyes met. She let out a sob of relief and ran toward him, weaving around the pillars. He held out a hand, and she reached for it. “Thank god. . . .” Her fingers brushed the warmth of his palm.
And then she was falling.
She screamed as her hand was wrenched from his. A panel in the floor had dropped open. It happened so fast that she didn’t have time to grab for the edges, even with the faster reflexes the paragon burst gave her. She was plunging into darkness.
She slammed into a hard floor below, wincing.
Overhead, Cassian’s face appeared in the opening. “Cora! Hold on—”
But the floor sealed before he could finish.
She was alone.
For a few moments, all she could hear was her own heartbeat in the darkness, thumping irregular and quick, as though there were many hearts inside her own. The lights in the new puzzle chamber began to gradually illuminate. Was she still in puzzle nine? Or had she fallen into a new puzzle altogether? The lights rose, casting shadows over a chamber that was bare except for a central table. She tried to remember everything Willa had told her about this round.
They will make it personal, Willa had said. They need to know that the Gauntlet is real for you.
Cora started to push to her feet, but the chamber suddenly lurched sidewise. She gasped as she crouched back down on the floor, steadying herself, heart pounding. The storm was growing stronger. She didn’t have much time.
She waited a few seconds. Thankfully, the room didn’t lurch again.
She went to the table. The lights were bright enough now to make out a three-dimensional model on the table’s surface. It was a simple cube, made of glowing laser lines, just like the model of the Gauntlet that Cassian had once shown her. In that model, a tiny holographic runner had made its way through each of the puzzle chambers, demonstrating how the Gauntlet worked.
But this laser model was just a single cube. She waited impatiently for something to change. Seconds passed and nothing happened. She shook the table, trying to jar it into action.
“Come on! I don’t have much time!”
Slowly, the laser outlines changed color. The cube started to expand. Cora stepped back, not wanting to accidentally get in its way. More laser lines appeared as the cube expanded, forming another cube, and then another on top, until there were twelve cubes in all: a model of the full Gauntlet. Each cube was a different color: red, blue, green, and yellow. Only it wasn’t a generic model, like the one Cassian had shown her. It was this Gauntlet. There were tiny holographic stalks of corn in one of the cubes and a miniature piano in another. Three cubes were empty—the puzzles she hadn’t solved yet—but otherwise the cubes’ colors corresponded to the different types of puzzles she’d gone through so far. The first was red, a moral puzzle, which had been the temptation to cheat. The second was green, an intellectual one. She inspected the cubes until she found one with a tiny table—the very chamber she was in. It was green.
Another intellectual puzzle.
She drew away from the Gauntlet model warily. Why would the stock algorithm give her a hint, even one as simple as the type of puzzle she was in? Did she dare trust it?
As she watched, a tiny holographic runner appeared in the first cube. She leaned in, peering closer. The runner had buzzed hair, a torn uniform, and tiny holographic drops of blood dripping from his arm.
Her face paled.
The holographic runner was a model of Cassian. She looked around at the walls, wondering if he was still trapped in the chamber overhead.
A gray holographic line started to rise from the floor in the chamber where Cassian stood. She leaned closer, anxious. What did it mean? With the laser’s imperfect representation she couldn’t be sure, until she saw the tiny holographic figure lifting his feet and waving his arms. Almost as if he were . . .
Swimming, Leon’s voice said in her head.
The gray line means water, Rolf’s voice added.
Cora’s eyes widened. The stock algorithm was flooding the first chamber with water. If this was a model of what was really happening in the other chambers, Cassian was going to drown.
And suddenly the puzzle made sense: Cassian was the puzzle.
She had to figure out how to save him.
She circled the table with quick steps, wetting her lips. The ceiling suddenly groaned and she glanced upward. A battle was raging outside, and a storm. She didn’t have time for guessing games.
Think!
She studied the three-dimensional model, her thoughts whirling faster than ever. She could almost feel Rolf in her head, his DNA boosting her own intelligence. Her thoughts felt crisper, more analytical. The flooded chamber that Cassian was in was sealed except for a single door, which was above Cassian’s head. He wasn’t a strong swimmer, judging by the holographic figure’s movements. He’d drown before the water rose high enough for him to reach the door. If there were only some way she could rotate the chamber he was in and put the doorway on the side so the water would drain out . . .
She reached out, fingers grazing the hologram, relieved to find it was solid. The laser lines hummed beneath her fingers as she carefully lifted the model, unsure if what she did to the model would actually change the Gauntlet itself. Slowly, she twisted the flooded chamber around so that the door was now on the bottom, letting the water drain, giving Cassian an escape path. The entire model moved with it—the cubes didn’t move interchangeably. She watched with relief as the water drained and the Cassian figure stopped swimming, crouched as though to catch his breath, and then dropped down into the next chamber, the candy store. But that chamber began filling with water even more rapidly. She turned the model again, but the water just flowed through the one open door straight into the next cube.
It was a spatial reasoning puzzle: an enormous Rubik’s Cube, with her friend’s life at sta
ke. She had to figure out a safe path for Cassian to get through each of the chambers without drowning, yet every chamber she twisted affected all the others. The more doors she opened for him, the more water would flow from one to another. He’d be drowned by the time he made it to the end.
Her mind raced as she looked between the different chambers. Rolf’s analytical voice hummed in her mind. There is the room with a floor of lava . . . the lava might evaporate the water if you can get Cassian that far. But that was puzzle seven, and Cassian was only at puzzle two and already the water was rising high.
She needed something closer. . . .
The high ropes course!
Puzzle four was full of trees, bridges, and rope swings. If she could get Cassian to that one, he could climb the rope and exit through the top. Gravity would keep the water from flowing into the next puzzle, buying him some time. She twisted the model again so the door was on the side. Cassian climbed—or rather swam—into puzzle three, the hunting room. His arms were moving fast now—he was swimming as hard as he could, and the gray line was nearly at the top of the chamber. As quickly as she could she twisted the model again, opening a door in the bottom to puzzle four. Water poured out, taking Cassian with it, and for a second she held her breath as the tiny figure of Cassian free-fell into the trees, plunging toward the ground. At the last minute, he reached out an arm and caught himself on the rope ladder.
She let out a tense breath. “Come on, Cassian. Climb. Hurry.”
The water was quickly filling the forest puzzle, but at least it would have to fill the entire chamber first before spilling into the next. Cassian climbed slowly, with his wounded arm, into puzzle five, the cornfield, which he was able to run through into puzzle six, the electric shock room. Judging by the gray line, there were a few inches of water on the ground, enough to make the electric wiring snap and smoke dangerously. If he touched the water, he’d likely be electrocuted. Cora bit her lip and shook the model hard enough for the electric wires to fall loose from the ceiling. Cassian used to them to swing jungle style over the floor, into puzzle seven, the lava room. Here, the rising water was for once a blessing, as it extinguished the lava so that he could dash across it. Cora’s heart pounded as she twisted the model as quickly as she could, opening doorways for him as fast as he was running through the maze.
“Almost there,” she muttered. A drip of water suddenly landed on her forehead and she looked up. She didn’t know if it was from the puzzle or the storm.
She looked back at the puzzle. “Shit!”
In that one second of distraction, she’d made a mistake. She’d twisted the puzzle too far, opening a doorway that let a tidal wave of water flow directly into chamber eight. Cassian was paddling his arms furiously. The gray line was already at the ceiling. His arms slowed. His feet stopped kicking . . .
“No!” she cried. “Hold on, Cassian!”
She twisted the puzzle once more, turning it so that the opening was on the side, letting water rush out.
At the same time, the door to her chamber burst open.
She shrieked as a wave of water poured in, and she grabbed the table to brace herself. The laser model sizzled and shorted out. Water drenched her. It was rising. Three feet, now four . . . She trod water desperately.
And then another door opened on the opposite wall. The sea of water rushed out, carrying her with it like a deluge into the next chamber, chamber ten. She crashed to the hard ground, knitting her fingers in the floor slats. Slats. She sat up quickly. The floor of chamber ten was made of a grate that let the water drain straight through it. She nearly laughed with relief, until she caught sight of herself in the chamber’s mirrored walls and saw how haggard she looked.
And then Cassian, soaking wet, came staggering through the doorway.
He was the real one, not the model. An eternity of Cassians reflected in the mirrors.
She jumped up, running across the grates. The sound of rushing water below echoed through the chamber. She threw her arms around him. He coughed hard, water thick in his lungs.
“You’re alive!” she said as they sank to the slatted floor.
He coughed harder, water still pouring down his skin. She pressed a hand to his cheek, felt the warmth there. In her heart, she’d always known Kindred and humans weren’t so different. It bolstered her with hope that they were in this together now, two species from the same ancestor and the same planet.
“It’ll be okay,” she said tenderly. “I can do this, I know I can. Serassi was right about the paragon burst. It makes me stronger, physically and mentally. It’s like I have a little bit of Rolf and Leon and Mali with me.”
But as soon as Cassian stopped coughing, he looked up with burning rage. He threw her hand off of him violently.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. “Where’s Cora?”
She stared at him in incomprehension. And then she glanced in the mirrored walls and let out a ragged breath.
Her reflection wasn’t her own anymore. She was looking at Fian—at the impostor version of Fian. The same wrinkle in his forehead. The same gray uniform. She gasped, touching her forehead and seeing the action reflected in the mirror.
The Gauntlet had made her into an optical illusion this time.
“Cassian, listen,” she said. “It’s me, Cora. This is just the next puzzle. The Gauntlet is trying to trick you.”
Cassian rolled back the sleeves of his uniform. “You tricked me once, Axion. I don’t know how you got in here, but you won’t trick me again.”
He balled his fist.
37
Rolf
ROLF’S PICKUP STIRRED CLOUDS OF sand as he drove a load of Armstrong citizens, packed together tightly and cradling their few belongings in their laps, toward the marron root mines. All morning he’d been making this trip, back and forth, as quickly as he could, as many people as he could fit in the truck bed. The way the mine’s tiers overlapped one another made it the perfect place to hide out from an Axion attack. They wouldn’t be visible from above, and the deep chasm would protect them from any explosions or chemical dust clouds.
He pulled up to the edge of the mine and cut the engine.
“Let’s move,” he said, lowering the back gate and helping the citizens climb out. “Remember, stay hidden until Nok or I come back to give the all-clear.”
The citizens rushed for the mine ladders, disappearing into the chasm one at a time. The sun was merciless overhead. Rolf wiped the sweat from his forehead, scanning the skies.
Nothing yet but thin clouds.
When would the Axion attack come?
He jumped in the truck and revved it, heading back to town for the next load. The strongest citizens had stayed in the tent encampment to fight from the ground and were now disguising the weapons under tent canvas. He spotted Dane’s dirty uniform amid the bunch, along with two of the mine guards, and he narrowed his eyes. Dane had wanted to side with the Axion. The coward.
Rolf checked his list of refugees and citizens who still needed to be taken to shelter. A pair of Mosca pilots, a wounded Gatherer, a dozen elderly citizens, eight loads’ worth of wild caged animals.
A lion! he thought as he sped back to town. How was he supposed to get a lion to climb down the scaffolding into the root mine?
On the outskirts of the town, he spotted Nok, Loren, and two Mosca refugees loading the laser weapons into the back of the other truck.
“Go around the back of the general store!” Nok called. “The next group is waiting for you there.”
He nodded and skirted the town. From here, the desert stretched out as far as he could see. The field where the forty refugee ships had landed was nothing but bare ground now, the ships all hidden beneath tent canvas or in low trenches. He felt eerily exposed, staring at that bare desert. His fingers knit against the steering wheel. He looked up into the empty sky again.
A group of fifteen wounded citizens was waiting for him at the general store. Makayla was with them, helping load the stre
tchers one by one. Rolf jumped out to help. “Hey, Makayla, let’s start with the—”
A distant whine, like a mosquito, interrupted him.
There weren’t mosquitoes on Armstrong.
He squinted into the sky again.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Then, out of nowhere, a droning squeal filled the sky.
Rolf’s heart shot to his throat as a slick white ship rocketed overhead.
“It’s the Axion!” one of the wounded said.
“They’re here!” another cried.
Rolf whipped around to look at Makayla, whose face had gone slack. She let out a ragged cry and then started loading the citizens in stretchers faster. “Come on!” she called. “Let’s hustle, people!”
Another Axion ship tore through the clouds, leaving a trail of white that crossed against the other line. Panic clawed up Rolf’s throat. He clutched his neck, feeling as though he couldn’t breathe. A third ship appeared. Its white line of exhaust crossed the other two lines, making a starburst of white.
“Rolf!” Makayla said. “Let’s move, we gotta get these people to the mines!”
He jolted back into action. Screams tore through the air from the few remaining Armstrong residents who hadn’t yet taken cover. Someone knocked over a stretcher, which landed hard against Rolf’s leg, and he buckled with pain.
Two more Axion ships streaked the sky, leaving white trails of exhaust. They crisscrossed at the exact same point again. Seven lines of exhaust. Now eight. All of them intersecting in the same place, almost as though it were intentional, as though it were . . .
“Makayla!” he called urgently. He held up the keys. “Do you know how to drive?”
She nodded.
He tossed her the keys. “Take these people to the mines. There’s something I need to check on.”
She raised an eyebrow at the strain in his voice but climbed into the driver’s seat, revving the engine, and then the truck sped away, tires kicking up dust, in the direction of the mine. Rolf glanced at the sky again as another Axion ship shot by overhead.
The Gauntlet Page 24
