by Everly Frost
I swallow. “Your wife?”
“Yes.”
I decide I’ve pushed the conversation far enough. I can’t even begin to imagine his feelings. Baelen would tear apart any male who looked at me the wrong way, let alone a male who used my body without my permission. In fact, he would have done exactly that during the battle in the arena when Rhydian Valor attacked me. Lucky for Rhydian, the fight ended when it did.
When I step away from Roar at the bottom of the shaft, I take a chance to check his expression.
Rage. Pure rage.
I acknowledge the emotion with a nod and decide to give him space. The fourth tunnel is a yawning gap in front of us. Not only are there few supports but patches of web across the floor reveal random jagged shafts along the way.
Roar clears his throat. His voice is still thick with emotion, but it disappears as he speaks. He’s obviously working hard to shift his anger to the side. “The floor of this tunnel is unstable. There are pockets of air under it. Sort of like gigantic bubbles. They’re filled with poisonous fumes. It’s not the fall that kills you, but the toxins. Believe it or not, this isn’t the most dangerous tunnel.”
I decide not to ask any more questions as we descend to the final tunnel. The air is warm now and the rock walls around us flicker with light that is more copper than blue. A sound I can’t identify rushes to meet me as Roar alights. It crackles and pops. Hisses.
This time, when I step off his feet, Roar doesn’t remove his hand from my arm. “Stay close.”
Ahead of us, Cassian stands at the tunnel’s entrance. Guards line up around us, herding us into a group, but they keep mostly to the back of the opening nearest to the exit.
A hand across my shoulder tells me Jasper’s beside me.
Cassian says. “This tunnel is the closest to the heart of Mount Prime and its volcanic core.” He swings aside, revealing the tunnel beyond. Patches of fire burn along it, small enough to avoid, but large enough to be a hazard. There are numerous collapses, rocks piled up along the sides and trailing across the center, and most of the supports are charred and blackened, barely holding the tunnel up.
Now I understand why the gargoyles were so unhappy to be put in five teams. Even setting up supports in this tunnel will be dangerous.
The same crackling and hissing sound I heard before grows louder. I peer at the various spot fires, trying to identify which one of them is producing the sound. It reminds me of logs falling on a fire, but as far as I can see, the spot fires burn without fuel. The sound hisses in the distance, whistling through the tunnel toward us. It’s like a rushing fire, but nothing else happens and the sound disappears as quickly as it began. I glance at Roar but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. Maybe it’s just all of the fires in this enclosed, echoing space. I guess I’ll get used to it.
“Hit the wrong rock and flames are the last thing you’ll see.” Cassian spreads his wings, beats down, and the nearest fires respond to the extra oxygen by rushing higher, rising as far as the ceiling.
“We don’t want this tunnel,” I whisper to Roar, feeling like I’m stating the obvious. “I don’t want Jasper’s team mining it either.”
Roar exhales. “I don’t want anyone down here.”
His comment brings home to me the fact that these gargoyles are his friends. All of them. I don’t share allegiances with any of them other than Llion and Jasper. And maybe Roar now too. It’s going to be easier for me to fight the others than it will be for Roar. Now I understand why Badenoch wanted Jasper on his team. Jasper and I are the outsiders. We won’t worry about hurting our opponents. But it also makes us targets. The other team members will show us the same lack of mercy we will show them.
Jasper’s fingers flex around my shoulder. The light from the spot fires flickers across his face, making his chocolate eyes glow molten. He doesn’t have to speak for me to understand him. When we ascend from this place, we’ll be enemies on different teams. But only on the outside. He’ll do everything he can to protect me and I will do the same for him.
21. Marbella Mercy
The rest of the day passes in a blur. Roar asks Iago to set Jasper and I up with gloves, and the wiry gargoyle attaches thick leather patches to the sides of our boots so we can slide down the mineshaft ladders. We test them out at the main shaft at the entrance to the Cavity while the guards watch closely. I’m not sure where they think we would escape to. There’s nothing but desolate mountain out there.
As evening approaches, tensions grow. Dinner involves a rearrangement of seating so we can eat with our teams. That’s when I meet the remaining member of Roar’s team: a gargoyle called Welsian who has the biggest biceps I’ve ever seen and stands a head taller than Roar when he draws himself up to his full height. Mostly Welsian keeps to himself, shoulders down, hunkering over his bowl of gruel. Judging by what’s on our plates, the ‘proper’ meal that Howl promised once each day must be going to materialize for breakfast.
I try to tune out the nervous whispers and occasional outbursts at the surrounding tables. Snippets of conversation tell me the other teams are wondering the same things I am. Like how Cassian is going to decide who fights who, and what happens if someone’s knocked out or injured—do they still get to mine with their team? All valid questions but nobody has any answers.
When it’s time for bed, Jasper leaves with his team and I stay close to Llion. He hasn’t spoken to me much since his revelation earlier.
He asks, “Do you still trust me, Lady Storm?”
“Of course. I know you didn’t design those weapons for Howl.”
He relaxes. “Then stay close to me and Roar. There are a lot of jumpy gargoyles here tonight and fear makes normally sensible males do stupid things.”
“We sleep this way,” Roar says, leading the way from the food hall. Outside, he points to the third structure. “That is the bathing area, but I don’t expect you to go in there.”
He’s right about that. There was a small bathroom back in the food hall that I used, but I’ll have to do without a proper shower for now. Right now that’s not my biggest problem. I’d expected the final building to be some sort of barracks. “Where do we sleep?”
“Up there.”
I don’t particularly want to look up. I’m not going to like this. I give in and study the ceiling. The cloth that the Elyria web is attached to billows in at least a hundred places, sagging like lots of ribbons attached to the ceiling at their ends.
“Are those… hammocks?”
Roar grins. “Don’t worry, the Elyria thread is unbreakable.”
“You really sleep in them?”
“It keeps us close to the rock and to the Elyria light.” Roar shrugs. “It’s comforting for gargoyles.”
Not so much for elves. The height of the hammocks isn’t the only thing I have to worry about. As the evening draws on, I’m feeling the cold in a way that I haven’t before. I remind myself that warm air rises, so sleeping close to the ceiling is more likely to be warm than down here. Even so, I’m scared that the hollow inside me that I’ve been pushing away all day is about to rear its ugly head.
The storm has been part of me for seven years. I absorbed her power every single day, wielded her power every single day. It made me strong physically and mentally. On top of that, my connection with Baelen was part of me the whole time—I just didn’t know it. When he bound himself to me at the ceremony for choosing champions, he solidified what already existed between us. We made each other stronger.
Now… a huge part of me is missing. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and hope the emptiness doesn’t get worse. “I guess you’ll need to fly me up there.”
Llion’s deep voice breaks across Roar’s. “I will fly Lady Storm up to her hammock.”
“Okay. Let’s head to the unoccupied area to the left. Over there.” While Roar points it out, Welsian and Iago take flight in that direction, disappearing into their chosen hammocks.
Roar is next and finally Llion invites me to
step on his feet. He says, “The last time we did this was the first night we met.”
“I remember. You let me live.”
He sweeps one arm around my waist and the other across my shoulders, one hand curling against my neck to support my head. He pauses. “You are very cold, Lady Storm.”
I shrug. “I don’t feel like myself. I left a big part of myself behind today.”
“With Baelen Rath.”
“Yes.” I rest my head against his chest, finding the warmth comforting.
“Lady Storm, you really are very cold.”
We’re the last to leave and the guards have started paying attention to us. We need to fly sooner rather than later. “I’ll be okay, Llion. Thank you for your concern.”
He sweeps us into the air, leaving the guards and their bone lashes behind. When I flew with Roar earlier, we’d plummeted downward. Flying upward is something else. It feels like floating, like rising from the bottom of a deep pool of water and taking the first breath of air as you break the surface. It reminds me of being the storm, not of containing the storm or controlling it, but being it. It reminds me of the way the Phoenix called me the storm and the way Llion spared my life when we first battled because he said I was the storm.
If only I could find it again. I have to believe that there’s a tiny bit of it left because I can almost feel it, a connection, a spark. Almost…
It disappears as soon as Llion slides me inside the hammock he’s chosen for me. The gap between it and the ceiling is large enough to sit up in. The material softly cushions my body but it’s sturdy enough that I’m not afraid it will tear.
“Sleep well, Lady Storm.” Llion releases the side of the hammock and takes hold of the next one. I can reach out my arm halfway to it. I pull my arm back in as the hammock rocks and I’m reminded of the distance to the ground. A glance left tells me that Roar has chosen the hammock on the other side of me. Iago is at my feet. Welsian is at my head, one big foot protruding from his hammock. They’ve surrounded me and I’m grateful.
I pull my boots off and curl my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them and hugging tight, trying to keep the hollow from expanding any further inside me.
My breath frosts in the air. So much for warmer air up here. I guess the gargoyles use their wings as blankets. I’ll have to remember that and bring a blanket up here with me tomorrow. It’s been a long day and I need to sleep. As the sounds around me quiet down, turning into the quiet wash of deep breathing, I finally fall asleep.
I awake to a gentle touch on my shoulder. “Lady Storm, it’s morning.”
I crack open one eye. I’m not sure how Llion can tell. The Cavity isn’t any lighter or darker than it was when we fell asleep. At some point in the night, I must have warmed up because my toes aren’t freezing anymore.
I ask, “Are you sure?”
He grins. “The spider webs takes on a green-ish glow in the morning. Look.”
True enough, the glow around me has changed to sea green. Not that I’ve ever seen the sea. But I’ve seen drawings in ancient elven books of what the surface of the Earth looks like. The color of the Elyria thread right now is exactly what I imagine a deep, calm ocean looks like. On top of that, the most delicious smells waft up from the kitchen below.
“Food. Real food.” I roll out of the hammock into Llion’s waiting arms, trusting him not to let me fall.
The rest of the team waits around me, wings spread to stay aloft. We descend together and it’s not until we’re halfway down that I realize how far I’ve come in regard to physical touch. A few days ago, I would have recoiled at the idea of anyone hugging me. Now, I stand on Llion’s feet, my arms wrapped around his waist without thinking about it.
The food hall is a visual reminder of the upcoming fights. The other four teams have each chosen corners of the room as far away from each other as possible. We’re left with the empty space in the middle. I sit wedged between Welsian and Llion, hunching over my plate, suddenly not so hungry anymore. We’ve barely finished eating when Cassian and the guards invade the room, placing themselves around the edges.
Cassian carries a copper cup with five slender white sticks in it. As he enters the room, my ears ring, a high-pitched whine as if the air pressure in the room suddenly changed and my ears are adjusting. Rubbing the soft spot at the side of my face next to my ears, I try to shake off the distracting hum and focus on my teammates.
Iago nudges Roar. They both stare at the slender sticks. “Are those what I think they are?”
Roar ripples with visible anger, a dangerous air settling around him. “They’d better not be.”
Cassian grips the cup, his expression unreadable. “Each team leader will choose a bone. The male who chooses the shortest bone gets to choose his team’s opponent first. The fights will be one on one, hand to hand, no weapons.”
Iago sighs, shaking his head. “It is the bones.”
The fight goes out of Roar as he stands. “Nothing is sacred anymore.”
For a second, the buzz inside my ears disappears. I grab Roar’s arm before he leaves the table, keeping my voice down. “Choose the bone on the far left of the cup.”
“What?”
That’s a good question. I have no idea why I said that. I slump back to my seat, conscious of the eyes around me. “Um… I don’t know… forget it.”
He eyes me warily before he makes his way to Cassian and lines up with the other team leaders.
“The fifth team leader chooses first,” Cassian announces. He stares at me as he speaks but I still can’t read his expression. I’m in the first team. If they’re choosing from fifth to first, that means Roar gets whatever bone is left in the cup. What I told him about choosing a particular bone won’t matter after all.
I don’t yet know the name of the fifth team leader. I think the others call him Erit. He’s the one who thought he’d be saddled with me when they were choosing teams yesterday. When Cassian presents him with the cup, he reaches for a bone and picks the one I wanted Roar to pick.
I watch carefully as he holds it up high to show everyone. It looks short but we won’t know for sure until everyone has chosen. One by one the other team leaders pick bones of varying lengths and as soon as Roar pulls the last bone from the cup, it’s obvious that Erit chose the shortest. Badenoch has the next shortest and Roar has the third.
Roar gives me a questioning look. I’d told him which one to choose and it was the shortest—the one that would have given us the power to pick our fight. I have no answer for his silent question. I don’t know how I knew that.
“What happens now?” Erit asks. He isn’t quite smiling. It’s hard to know yet whether picking the shortest bone will end up being a good thing or not.
“Pick a fighter from your team. And then pick his opponent from any opposing team. The winner of the first fight has first right to choose a tunnel.”
“And then?” Badenoch asks.
“If Erit’s team loses, he picks another opponent until his team wins. After that, the holder of the next shortest bone in the remaining teams gets to choose their opponent. The fights continue until all tunnels are chosen,” Cassian says. “The only rule is that you can’t choose anyone who has already fought.”
Erit spins to his team sitting in the far back corner of the room. He points. I follow his finger to a gargoyle who slowly rises from his seat. The standing gargoyle is not quite as bulky as Welsian, more like Roar in height and stature, but he moves in a way that tells me he considers each move. Whoever opposes him will have to strategize.
“I pick Arlo from my team,” Erit says.
His finger swivels to Arlo’s opponent.
Of course. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s pointing at me.
“Arlo will fight her.”
My jaw clenches. I narrow my eyes at Erit and rise to my feet in the same quietly confident way Arlo did, ignoring the stares around me. I’m silently wilting inside. None of these gargoyles has seen me fight. The miners
all left before the fight at the Court. They have nothing to be afraid of. If I still had my storm power, then picking me as an opponent would be suicide. But, the simple fact is that I don’t. I am a small female elf and everyone knows it. I have no idea how I’m going to win this fight, let alone survive it.
I meet Jasper’s eyes across the distance. His jaw ticks. I’ve seen that look on his face before—a mixture of concern and anger—and I’ve come to recognize it: he hates it when I get picked on by arrogant males. He knows that in a fair fight I’m stronger than them, I can beat them, but he doesn’t expect this to be a fair fight. He twitches like he’s about to jump out of his seat but before he can, Llion leans forward in his chair beside me, spreading his wings just enough that one of them extends across my back like a deadly backdrop. Or maybe a declaration of protection.
He appears relaxed, confident. “I don’t think you thought this through, Erit. If Lady Storm wins, we get first pick of the tunnels.”
Erit frowns. “She’s not going to win.”
Llion shrugs. “She fought King Howl on Mount Erador, stabbed him right in the heart, and dropped a legion of gargoyles from the sky. I heard they’re still picking up the pieces. But sure… she probably won’t win.”
Standing beside Erit, Cassian suddenly grins, clearly entertained by Llion’s attempt to psych Erit and his fighter out. He doesn’t seem worried about Llion speaking about my fight with Howl. I guess that’s because everyone knows that, in the end, I lost.
Cassian shouts, “Everyone outside.”
Now I’m really regretting eating breakfast. A wave of nerves tells me that everything I consumed is going to very soon see the light of day again. Llion’s palm between my shoulder blades is a comforting pressure, but it’s Welsian who surprises me with advice.