Silas felt his first pang of hunger. Did people eat in the afterlife? He supposed they did if there was hunger. Curious. As he led them down, the path began to level off a bit. With lush green trees and several snowcapped mountains in the distance, the view nearly brought tears to Silas’ eyes as it showed promise that Marenon may not be such a dreadful place after all. Although, getting there had been horrible. Why would the king implement a system to eradicate as many people as possible before allowing them in? Barron had said the king had ordered it. Some king, Silas thought. First impressions showed that Marenon was not quite the welcoming place it could be.
The clouds still covered the sunlight, but at least the diffused rays were able to warm their skin. After another hour or so they finally reached the bottom of the mountain where the air was now warm. At the bottom there was no river, but the path continued on. Silas caught a glimpse from Dink. Neither was sure of what needed to be done next. Obviously the only choice was to follow the path. The forest to their right was so thick that trying to navigate through would be impossible. The mountain was on their left and none of them wanted to go back. The only way was forward.
They had been traveling all afternoon. Exhaustion had set in long before they made it to the cave and many were now on the verge of collapse. Silas was ready for this journey to be over as well. He thought of what he would do when he finally made it to the bridge and into Marenon. He knew he had to find his grandfather, but how would he accomplish that? No solution came to mind. His thoughts then drifted to the plan. Did Garland know about Marenon before his death? All signs pointed to the fact that he did. He knew of the Stühocs. So, the question was, if Garland did know about Marenon, then why did he never say anything about it to Silas? Why would he have kept it a secret all these years? He thought about his training. Was it all in vain, or would the skills he learned benefit him in this new life? He felt so clueless as well as angry. Being left out of the loop on such a large-scale plan was wrong, especially since he was now dead and a new death was awaiting him at every turn. His grandfather had told him that he was destined for great things. Apparently this was not to be on Earth. But was the plan for him to do great things in Marenon?
As they walked along the grassy path, Silas wondered when it would end and the bridge would reveal itself. They rounded what felt to be the entire base of the mountain when he finally saw it. Flowing, tumbling, white-capped water splashed against rocks and gushed into the distance down the winding river. What stood above the water was not a bridge like Silas had ever seen before. It was more like a dam with its base allowing water to pass through. On the side nearest him, connected to the dam-like structure, stood a massive wooden door. The dam seemed ten times larger than any conventional bridge, making the door one of the largest Silas had ever seen. Soldiers, dressed similar to the ones that accompanied Barron, stood at attention in front of the structure. Across the path, opposite the huge door were several shacks that Silas presumed were the soldier’s barracks.
A horn blew in the distance and a bell started ringing, announcing to all, the arrival of the group. He could see people scrambling around, but could not tell what they were up to. The hunger pit in his stomach turned into a tumbling roar as he watched. Perhaps it was not as simple as crossing a bridge. He desperately wished it were. Despite their apprehension, they kept walking.
Wordlessly they were flagged to a position, only yards from the wooden door that all of them hoped would be their easy entrance into Marenon. A guard, another man in a soldier’s outfit, but much less intimidating than Barron, stepped on his own wooden platform and prepared to address the battered crowd as they approached.
“Who is the leader designated among you?” the man asked.
All eyes fell on Silas. He looked at Dink almost as if to ask what he was supposed to do. Dink shrugged and Silas stepped forward. “I am.”
The guard looked down at him for a moment then sighed. “Choose your nineteen strongest.”
“What?” Silas asked confused.
“I said, choose your nineteen strongest individuals.”
“I heard what you said,” Silas replied angrily. “What do you mean?”
“Either you choose your best nineteen people or I will kill you where you stand.”
Slowly, he turned to the crowd of people. He couldn’t believe this was happening. What was he supposed to do? They were all battered and torn. Was he to choose the strongest people simply to help open the wooden door? After moments of hesitation he heard the guard give an order and five other guards immediately had their arrows pulled back and trained on Silas.
“Do it now, or you die!”
“Dink,” Silas said. He then pointed to red-beard and seventeen others, picking out those that would be strong enough to help push open the wooden door. He hated having to do this.
The guard smiled and said, “Now was that so hard?” He looked at the other guards. “Take the rest!”
“Where are you taking them?”
The crowd of fifty or sixty people that Silas had not chosen was herded away like cattle by several soldiers. A few tried to protest, but were beaten into submission while the others were led behind a couple of buildings in the distance. The remaining twenty people looked up at the guard, staggered.
He spoke. “You will now enter in through the wooden gate,” he said. “Through the gate is the gauntlet. If you survive this, you may enter into Marenon. If not, well, then I don’t have to worry about you.”
Silas could hear screaming in the distance. Pain, fear. They were screams of death. He had unwittingly sentenced the others to be executed, simply by not choosing them. What sort of place was this? A new wave of nausea came over Silas, his dry heaving producing no vomit, for he had eaten nothing in his new life. Whatever king decided this was the best way to welcome newcomers deserved no less of a punishment. The thought then occurred to him that his grandfather might not have survived the selection! But surely he did. Garland Ainsley was a master fighter.
All thoughts fled from Silas’ mind as the wooden gate slowly opened. In the darkness beyond, waited the gauntlet, reeking of death. Silas knew he would either have to survive this, or face his second passing.
Chapter Ten
It quickly became obvious that the gauntlet was designed to feed the bloodlust of the barbaric people occupying the bridge-town. Once inside, the victims were to become a show for the guards and other people, from where, Silas could not guess. The spectators stood on the lofty walls on either side of them. Silas could see them pointing at him and others in his group. It seemed they were making bets. Who would survive? Who would make it to the end first? Who would be killed first? It didn’t matter. There were endless ways to make money at the expense of those facing their second death. Their jeers and laughter made Silas wish that he could vomit. But his empty stomach prevented him from getting that kind of relief.
A masked guard, fat and bulging, walked to each of them with shackles clanking and hanging from his meaty arms. He silently clasped chains to the wrists of individuals to make pairs. Two-by-two they would run the gauntlet. Silas wished he could get a glimpse of what was to come, but once inside the gate, they were herded into a courtyard to wait. They saw nothing but high stone walls and a small door that would stay closed until they had been made ready by the masked guard. He finally came to Silas and the metal was slapped around his left wrist. He thought at first that he would be paired with Dink, but to Silas’ disappointment, the fat guard pulled red-beard next to him. The two were then destined to either live or die together. Dink’s partner was shaking more than the rest and was quite nearly ready to wet himself. After every person was paired, the guard stood in front of the door and smiled a large, toothless grin. He seemed excited to watch what was about to happen as if this were the best part of his day. Each person waited intently as the crowd on the wall above them continued to cheer and laugh. What happened to these people to make them act like such animals?
Just knowing
the chance of survival was low, each chained prisoner fixed his or her eyes on the door in front of them. With the growing shouts from the crowd it was becoming impossible to listen for what lay beyond the door.
Silas looked to his red-bearded partner. “What’s your name?” he asked as if it mattered.
“Gunther,” he said, looking forward, his eyes unwavering from the wretched door. “I was right you know.”
Silas didn’t want to admit it, but Gunther had been right. They had been marching to their deaths the entire time, but what else was there to do? Arguing his point would not prove advantageous at the moment so he held his tongue.
“We just need to stay focused and be ready for whatever is ahead,” Silas replied and nothing else was said after that. A rhythm of shouts formed in the crowd above. They chanted for their picks so they might win that extra bit of cash. Silas was determined to make whoever bet on him rich.
Without warning, the door flew open. Instantly the pair standing directly in front of it was incinerated by a burst of flames, while the rest dropped to the ground. A loud moan shot out from the crowd. When the heat from the fire-blast died, Silas looked up from his position and noticed what looked to be a gigantic lizard, a dragon perhaps. He had never seen anything like it. Its large black snout snapped through the door, chomping at any food it could find. Silas tugged on the chain to get Gunther’s attention. In acknowledgement his counterpart stood, hunched over. When the footed serpent reared back for another fiery blow, the pair slipped under its belly and crouched, hoping the beast wouldn’t stomp on either of them. The dragon scraped and bit at the others as they scattered and tumbled through the door. It was disoriented by the number of meal options it had, taking bites in random directions. Silas and Gunther remained under the creature, attempting to avoid its heavy feet. The crowd was belligerent; throwing rocks at those they didn’t want to make it, mostly hitting the serpent, adding to its confusion. Again the monster blew fire, setting one of the chained prisoners ablaze. His partner was incapable of extinguishing the flames. He tried vigorously to drag the sizzling, smoking body, but it caused him to be slower than the others. The dragon went straight for him, giving Silas and Gunther their opportunity to run. The monster bit into the exposed prisoner, and the crunching bones and muffled scream sounded louder than the mob above. Taking advantage of the other’s misfortune, Silas and Gunther, along with the remaining survivors, ran down the path behind the monster.
After a moment, they came to a covered passageway, blocking them from view of the crowd. Silas figured that such a passageway was meant to provide suspense for those betting to see who would emerge out the other side still alive. As they edged forward they could see a tunnel. It was dark and no danger could be seen; yet everyone knew the danger existed. Each looked around; eyes darting to one another, hoping someone else would volunteer to move first. Dink reached down for a rock and threw it down the tunnel. Instantly a section of long spikes jutted out from the walls on both sides and continued in succession, one by one, down the tunnel. Silas counted seven sections of protruding spikes, each retracting mere seconds after they were discharged. He knew he could run it alone because the timing was fairly consistent, but with a person chained next to him it would prove fairly difficult. He looked at Gunther.
“We can do this,” he said.
Gunther shook his head. “I don’t know if I can.”
“We have too. There’s no going back.” He tugged sharply on the chain and stared Gunther down. “We’ll count out loud. Each section of spikes comes out in three-second bursts. We’ll count together then move.” Silas looked at the rest of them. “All of you do the same and you’ll make it.”
He got some nods of affirmation, but none of them were going without seeing someone else go first. Dink was still having trouble convincing his companion to go through at all. The man was shaking through his entire body and Silas sensed that Dink was afraid that the man would get him killed.
“Let’s go first,” said Silas.
Gunther let out a deep breath and nodded. They stood only a foot from the spikes and waited for the cycle to go through three times before finally making a move. The first set retracted and they jumped forward. The second retracted and they jumped again, this time spikes shot out behind and in front of them. With each jump they were only inches from a painful and gruesome death. The others behind them stood rigid in anticipation. Each time the spikes retracted in front of Silas and Gunther, they would leap to the next opening, until finally they made it to the other side. Luckily there wasn’t another fire-breathing dragon or some other monster to devour them when they made it through. At the end they both bent over in relief and watched for the next pair to come through.
The spikes shoved in and out through the rock. The sound of scraping stone sent shivers into their spines. The next couple began well, but by the third jump they realized something wasn’t right. The sequence of the spikes had changed.
“No, no,” one of them cried.
“Just try to follow it!” the other shouted as they leaped forward.
The two tried, but it was impossible to figure out the sequence while in the tunnel. With panic taking over their minds, they stepped into the wrong spot as the spikes ripped hundreds of cylindrical holes through their bodies. Silas had to look away after watching them.
“The spikes change sequences when someone else makes it through!” Gunther said.
Gunther was right. Silas forced himself to look back up, watching the sequence run three times through. When he figured out the pattern, he shouted to the other side. “It’s changed! You have to run two forward and one back!”
He repeated his command several times and with only the sound of scraping metal and stone, he saw Dink and his partner running through just as he instructed. Within twenty seconds they were finished. Dink let out a gasp of relief and gave his companion an encouraging pat on the back. The following sequence became more difficult and it gruelingly claimed the lives of the next pair. The group was down to only five pairs in all. Each of them studied the sequence and shouted out commands. Finally the next pair made it through, a man and a woman. The next sequence was more complicated. Even after deciphering the pattern, none of them were sure if it could be done. They would have to be fast runners. Silas guessed the sequence would be passable if the pair would run four ahead and three backward then one ahead again until the end. He shouted these instructions several times, but it was still a long time before anyone attempted to come through. Everyone knew why there was such a hesitation. None of them knew if it was even possible to maneuver at that speed over the hole-ridden bodies that littered the floor. The grotesque shoving and retracting of human flesh against the spiked walls and red-painted floor was more than enough to make several of them sick to their stomachs.
The spikes came out at the same speed as before, requiring the next couple to be flawless in their execution. It didn’t happen. Two by two they were all killed by the same mechanism, adding to the heap of shredded bodies. The last pair didn’t have a chance as they tripped over a leg or some extremity on the ground. Their death was quick, but not painless.
Each of the survivors hung their heads in gloom for their fallen companions. They had started with nearly a hundred that morning and were now down to six. Anger flooded Silas’ heart. They took a few moments to collect their breath and silently moved down the path into the wide opening. The crowd’s cheers and boos erupted from above as it was revealed who was still in the running to survive the gauntlet. Some began handing others money as they saw that their pick had been killed in the tunnel. Silas hated being put on display in such a way. He hated them for their hunger and thirst for blood. He hated Marenon.
The group of six walked down the path, feeling exhausted and defeated. They soon reached an area where the path split into three different directions. Silas looked at the others, knowing that the same question loomed in each of their minds. Should they all go down the same path or take separate one
s?
“It seems obvious to me,” Dink said. “Who knows if they all lead to the end? If only one of them does, then one pair will make it through.”
“But there is strength in numbers,” Gunther said.
“Maybe,” Silas said. “Who knows whether a large group would make it worse? This place is unpredictable. Any decision we make could be good or bad.” They all stood in silence for a moment, none of them wanting to make the final decision. Silas finally spoke again. “I think we should split up.”
It was decided. The man and woman would take the path to the right, Dink and his partner the left, and Silas and Gunther would take the middle.
“Good luck,” Silas said to them all. “We’ll see you on the other side.”
Dink stopped for a moment, catching Silas’ attention. “I didn’t think death would be like this, you know?”
“Who would?” Silas said emotionless. He did not want negative thoughts of bitterness to cloud his determination to make it beyond the next obstacles.
Dink turned and walked.
The paths quickly veered away from one another. Each pair could no longer see or hear what may have happened to the others. The crowd above them had become background noise and soon they heard no noise at all as they passed under another ceiling, covering them from view. Just then, Silas noticed, for the first time, that the gauntlet was one massive structure, built like a town square, but with high walls enabling the crowd to watch. The walls also helped keep the players in the gauntlet. Silas thought it must have taken a lot of work to plan and build. The path they walked was rocky and narrow, and Silas knew the peace of soundless walking they experienced would be brief. He remained alert and aware.
The Marenon Chronicles Collection Page 10