He held up his bound hands when he saw me descend. His foul language resumed when I ignored his pleas for help.
I ran on, hoping to see Ruby, but there was no sign of her. I feared for her safety. She had to stay alive in order to win. She was a tough competitor, but that wouldn’t stop her from facing a bad end. This was more than a competition. It was not only dangerous but lethal.
At the rock walls, water cascading from small fissures made the climbing surfaces slick. I hoped that my thin boots would provide adequate traction. I scanned overhead, noting black specks scurrying like beetles across the vertical surfaces. When I counted eight remaining competitors, I felt relieved. Ruby had to be among them. I was getting close.
With renewed energy, I gripped the niches. The first fifty feet flew by. Hands and feet found their holds. My confidence grew that I’d catch the others.
Nearer the top, the handholds were less frequent. I stretched to curl my fingers over a higher lip. Instead of smooth stone, sharp points pierced my skin. I jerked my hand back and noticed blood dripping down my arm from a deep gash in my index finger. I mouthed the wound then bound it with my scarf. Remembering my gloves, I retrieved them from my quiver and pulled them on. I suspected that the other handholds might be trouble. I was right.
By the time I reached the top of the wall, my gloves were tattered slivers, the soles of my boots slightly less so, but more importantly I’d gained on my competitors. I ignored the painful throbbing of the cuts and sprinted across the sloping plateau.
Deep chasms sliced the surface. Some were easily traversed, but occasionally the landings were obscured on the far side. Jumping across one gap, I narrowly avoided landing on a body. The man lay strewn on the rock, his head haloed in blood. I jolted at the sight and fought a strong instinct to stop. But he was dead and those ahead were dropping from sight.
I pushed harder, lengthening my strides, halting at the edge of a canyon. The only way across was a precarious rope bridge. A sign hung haphazardly from a post that anchored the near side of the structure. I quickly scanned the words.
More than one will be your downfall.
It sounded like a riddle, but I understood its meaning.
The woven rope swung sideways as it took my weight. My next step plunged through the grid but my quiver snagged on the weave, saving me from a fatal fall. After a few ragged breaths, I untangled myself. My damaged hands stung as I gripped the rough twine, but I clung and crawled like a spider across a web.
Halfway across the void, I heard the fall of heavy footsteps behind me. A quick glance over my shoulder sent the bridge rocking. A man ran toward the ropes, heedless of the sign.
I quickened my pace. Ten feet from the far side, I felt the bridge sway. His first step tensed the ropes; his second loosened them. He grunted then screamed.
Instinctively, I glanced back at the terrifying sound. His face twisted in terror as the knots behind him began to slip and his body started to drop.
I wrapped my arms and legs through the mesh and held tight, hoping the rope at my end would hold. Suddenly, I was flying through the air toward the canyon wall. I tucked my head and shifted my shoulders, hoping my quiver would take the brunt of the impact.
My body slammed into the rock wall. Pain shot along my collarbone and down my arm, but my hands and legs held tight. The impact made my head swim. I took quick breaths, trying to force back the acidic taste in my mouth. A glance upwards confirmed my end of the bridge was intact. Suddenly the ropes below were banging against the rock. The man hadn’t fallen as I suspected. He hung below me, attempting to climb.
Our combined weight snapped one of the bindings above me trapping my left foot. I slid my knife from my other boot, freed my ankle and cautiously climbed the remaining feet to the top of the canyon. Breathing deeply, I rolled onto my back and splayed my arms and hands. For several seconds, I enjoyed the solid feel of the granite until a scream echoed from below. I crawled to the edge of the canyon and looked down.
I recognized my pursuer. The man, who had berated me for leaving him tied up, now hung upside down, one leg snarled in a knotty tangle.
Struggling to free himself, he tugged frantically on the twisted fibers causing them to fray. He looked up. “Help me! Pull me up!”
I backed away from the edge of the crevasse until he was out of sight. Terrified shouts continued to echo from the canyon. Everything I’d learned as a healer and preserver of life pulled at my conscience. Leaving him to die was impossible. As I approached the edge, a scream tore at my soul then all went silent. I was too late.
The sound of his anguish echoed in my ears. Tears streamed across my cheeks as I left the broken bridge behind. I poured my torment into action. Ignoring spent muscles, I ran flat out, entering a wooded area, slowing only when I heard male voices ahead. From behind an ancient oak, I spied four men sitting at the base of a chestnut tree. The group’s attention was on two other men up in the boughs.
One of those aloft grabbed a thin tree limb. He descended to the ground then pulled an arrow from his quiver. What I thought was a branch was a bow. Aiming high toward a target atop a granite pillar, his first shot went wide. The men on the ground heckled and laughed. The second arrow was true and as the target tumbled backward, a rope unfurled. The man raced toward it and climbed. Two other men ran toward the rope, hoping to grab another chance to advance. As they fought and pulled, the rope fell to the ground.
The second man descended from the tree with a bow but both his shots failed to reach a target. Cursing, he joined the other competitors on the ground. Since there was no sign of Ruby, I assumed she had completed this task and moved on.
Getting by the men was a problem. I was sure I wouldn’t be allowed to pass unchallenged. Confronting them on the ground was too risky, overhead might work. I jumped and clung to the lowest branch of the oak tree, stealthily threading my way up through the branches. Finding a thick bough, I squirmed along it toward the chestnut tree. Within arms-reach of a bow, I snapped a small twig. A chestnut fell free and landed among the men. Five pairs of eyes turned skyward.
“It’s Ruby’s friend! Get her.”
Within seconds, they were climbing toward me.
My slim weight allowed me safety at the end of the thin limb. I grabbed the bow and drew an arrow from my quiver. Spotting the target, I took my shot. My hands shook and the first arrow missed. I notched the second arrow. Ignoring the taunts of the climbing men, I held my breath and released the arrow. It was a bull’s-eye. The rope unfolded.
My delight quickly disappeared when my perch shook under the weight of an assailant. I threw my bow at him and clutched an overhead branch. The rope to safety dangled several feet away. My only option was to jump.
Taking a deep breath, I lunged for the impossibly tiny thread of escape. I gripped the slender twine with one hand. The other slipped, but I quickly wrapped my feet around the rope and steadied my position. Behind me, a branch cracked loudly as two men tried to follow. I didn’t wait to watch but shimmied upwards.
At the top, I heard the steady thrum of the crowd as it roared with approval. Had someone other than Ruby already won the game? I pushed on, not wanting to consider that I might have lost my bid for freedom.
Scrambling across another series of granite boulders left me breathless. I finally reached the summit. In the distance I spotted Ruby and two men stripping off their gear. I’d caught up but my heart filled with dread when I heard rushing water.
As I moved forward, the view opened. I could see the crowd and another horrifying challenge—a waterfall.
Panic blackened my vision. I squeezed my eyes and fought back my terror. I couldn’t allow my fear to triumph. I started to hum. With renewed focus, I threw off my quiver and gloves and donned my goggles. Seconds behind the others, I plunged over the edge toward the watery abyss.
25
A Dead Deal
The descent to the water was terrifying.
Instinct pushed my arms and legs into ac
tion when I felt the water engulf me. Thankful for Weyland’s lessons, I quickly surfaced in a large pool.
Ignoring the deafening crowd noise, I scanned for the three other competitors. Ruby was a slow swimmer. Her red hair was easy to spot. The two others were farther ahead.
Pulling my hands through the water, I kicked my legs with renewed energy. I was gaining on Ruby. When I eventually pulled alongside, she stroked harder. Her competitive nature quickened her pace. I raced ahead with Ruby close behind. Two dark heads were seconds in front. As they approached an arch over the water, a red light flashed. Seconds later, the swimmers vanished.
Puzzled, my momentum slowed and Ruby surged past me. Her meaty fist connected with my sore shoulder. Thankfully, her kick missed my hips by inches. I cradled my shoulder and pulled out of reach. Suddenly, the red light flashed again. Ruby was gone.
Another flash followed. Unsure of what to do, I paddled aimlessly until an amplified voice commanded, “Submerge.”
No. No. No. I fought my paralyzing thoughts.
“Submerge.” The repeated instruction penetrated the fog of fear. I had no option but to follow.
Remembering Weyland’s instructions, I took several deep breaths. With the final one, I descended into the deep water. It was pristine clear but there was no sign of the others. Was I too far behind to help Ruby win? The only way was through a narrow tunnel.
The serpentine nature of the passage only allowed a limited view. At the second turn, I was shocked to see Ruby writhing frantically. From behind, a thick black arm wrapped her throat and two legs enclosed her body. Beside the struggling duo, another dark figure pulled a blade from a leg sheath.
Why were they attacking Ruby instead of heading to the finish line?
The explanation shot through my brain. Pig.
Ruby had threatened the podmaster. She wasn’t meant to survive Steepchase, let alone win. I was certain he wouldn’t honor our deal. I’d been a fool to think that anyone named Delio would keep his word.
I kicked wildly and pulled my hands through the water, determined to help Ruby. Her survival might still ensure my freedom, despite Pig’s intentions.
As I neared, her assailant cupped her chin and twisted her neck. Ruby’s body twitched wildly, then went limp. He shoved her lifeless corpse aside as if discarding garbage. Her body drifted slowly in the current.
Signaling his partner, the man then pointed at me. They lunged forward. Two sets of powerful arms whirled through the water like wind turbines through air. I knew I couldn’t escape them.
My lungs strained, craving oxygen as I stroked through the water. My progress slowed and I straddled consciousness. In the murk of semi-awareness, I heard Mother’s words.
Your voice is your power.
Clarity focused my actions. I forced valuable air over my vocal chords and started a high-pitched hum. The swimmers lifted their hands to their ears and hesitated as if disoriented. Moments later, they surged toward me again.
Remembering Weyland’s negative reaction to my high-pitched tones, I opened my mouth and pushed the remaining air from my lungs. The intensified sounds penetrated the underwater tunnel. The men held their ears, writhing under the invisible onslaught. My breath dwindled. As I sustained the piercing pitch, I lifted my arms. As if by a rogue wave, the men were propelled backward, smashing into the tunnel wall. Two red plumes flowed from their inert bodies.
Panicked, I clawed through the water like a caged animal, certain that I would drown. Someone seized my flailing arm. I struggled for freedom, but the pull upwards was persistent. A bellow of cheers assaulted my ears as I broke the surface of the water. I greedily sucked in precious air.
Eyes closed and exhausted, I lay motionless on the hard deck, unable to protest the hands that dried my aching arms and legs. When the pummeling finally stopped, I opened my eyes. As if on signal, two guards hoisted me into the air and carried me to a dais adorned with gold banners and exotic flowers.
“Champion. Champion. Champion.”
Energy waves stunned my senses as the pounding of the chanting crowd crisscrossed the stadium. Dignitaries closed around me, offering congratulations. The scene felt surreal until I saw the Delio contingent approaching: the Premier, Prince, and Calia.
My legs buckled when I was set down, but a hand grabbed my arm and kept me standing. Moments later, a gold juba dropped over my head and swimsuit. A crown of flowers held my hood in place.
Premier Delio grasped my arm and lifted it into the air.
“This year’s Steepchase winner is Brynna Bokk.” He spat my surname as if to rid his mouth of a distasteful morsel, then dropped my arm.
The crowd roared in response, but the premier had already exited the winner’s area. Prince followed his father, completely ignoring me, but Calia threw me a furious look. Despite her malicious manipulations, I’d managed to score a triumph.
The noise and energy of the throng were euphoric. The reality of what I’d achieved seeped into my consciousness, rejuvenating my spirit and exhausted muscles. As winner, I was a celebrity and untouchable—at least for the moment. I hadn’t seen Pig.
I frantically scanned the stands for Jarryd then saw my actions reflected on the giant overhead video screens. Like an actor, I forced a smile and waved, but continued my search. The jubilant crowd acknowledged my gesture, the volume swelled before suddenly dropping like a curtain at the closing act. The throng went silent.
The cameras found a new focus. Gasps and shouts replaced rhythmic chanting. Attendees around me pointed to the pool. I watched in horror as Ruby’s body surfaced from its watery tomb.
“You killed her.” Pig’s hot breath brushed my ear.
I jerked back to escape his foul breath but couldn’t tear my gaze from Ruby’s inert form. “I didn’t. Your goons attacked her.”
I cringed as her corpse was dragged from the water and carted unceremoniously from the arena. As the target of Ruby’s malevolence, I couldn’t dismiss her deeds, but she’d also been a victim. Pig had played her just as he had played me. And now she was dead.
“We had a deal. You broke it.” His leer promised further bondage. “Now you are mine.”
My stomach clenched in a sick churn at the crushing truth of his words. Ruby was dead and I’d gained nothing.
“Take her.” Pig motioned to two of his guards, but a crowd of well-wishers surged toward me.
They shook my hand and clapped me on the back. A tall woman in a black juba approached. Hard arms crushed my battered body. “Don’t react, Bryn.”
My heart jumped when I heard Jarryd’s voice. I returned his hug.
“I said don’t react,” he repeated with big brother annoyance. “We’ve planned a diversion. When you hear a blast, run behind the change room on my right. In the alley, take the gate to the landing pad. The alarm is off. We’ll be waiting.”
I had to fight my instinct to follow him. Instead, I trembled as his cloaked figure disappeared into the crowd.
The guards cleared away the remaining visitors. Pig motioned his men toward me.
I stalled, pretending to be sick. Doubling over, I moaned. The guards took my arms, but quickly released me when I rolled my eyes and allowed saliva to dribble down my chin. My antics drew a concerned crowd.
“She needs a doctor,” cried one spectator.
“No.” I wailed. “I need to go to the toilet.”
“Take her to the exit tunnel,” Pig commanded. “The boat’s waiting. We’ll get her to a doctor later.”
“I need the toilet,” I wrapped my arms tightly over my stomach.
As Steepchase winner, I had the support of the crowd, who turned on Pig, yelling at him to let me go to the toilets. An outraged mob wasn’t something he had bargained for. He withstood heckles and jeers for a few moments, then gave in.
“Escort her to the women’s change room and wait outside the door.”
Clasping my stomach, I ran to my left. The guards followed me until I disappeared into the change room. I h
oped Pig’s confidence in my reappearance would give me the time I needed to escape.
I splashed my face with cold water, took a few steadying breaths. Inside a cubicle, I removed the gold juba. My black swimsuit would attract some attention but far less than the sparkly robe.
Outside the facility, a series of explosion shook the ground. A crack appeared on the wall beside me. Screams intensified as additional blasts detonated. Dust billowed around me. If I waited, I could be buried alive. I had to go.
A glance outside confirmed that all was chaos. The guards were overrun by terrified hordes.
I crouched as I exited the entryway, then sped left along one wall of the squat building to a corner. After another left turn, I ran along a shorter wall. Turning the final corner, I stopped in a dead-end alley. A cloud of dust obscured my vision. My heart thumped in my chest as I waited for it to clear. Finally, the metal gate became visible. Through the fence, I could see the lander waiting on the pad, silhouetted against an azure sky. Its engines hummed quietly. My escape was so close.
I thrust my hands and weight against the door. It didn’t yield. Dread at the thought of recapture pushed adrenaline through my body. Frustrated, I pounded the door with both fists then pulled at the bars. The door opened a foot. Relief almost buckled my knees. I squirmed through the gap and ran.
The lander’s near door opened. Tears coursed down my cheeks when I saw Jarryd waving me onward. As he pulled me into the lander, further explosions shook the ground. I glanced back to see dense smoke billowing into the air above the Steepchase arena.
I wondered what had happened, but there was no time to linger. I closed my eyes, thankful to be free.
26
Escape From Hypor City
Jarryd yanked me into the lander as it started to ascend.
Two people sat forward and two behind us. All were dressed alike in dark clothes and helmets. It was impossible to tell who they were. A tense silence persisted while the pilot steered the craft skyward. After what seemed like forever, the pilot announced, “We’ve left the city airspace.”
The Last Singer (The Falcon Chronicles Book 1) Page 19