I didn’t feel fear. I felt anger. And in the next sixty seconds, all the fear in the room would be theirs.
They wanted to capture the Red Rider.
They succeeded.
But they would no longer enjoy it.
41.
I bent low to the ground, nearly face-to-face with the approaching wolves. They snarled, closing in around me and the other prisoners in the Arena, as Garroche snapped his whip again to keep us in the center.
Marceau moved ahead and to the side of me. “Stay close. I’ll try to protect you.”
I stepped away. “I don’t need protection. I just need more room.”
I spread my hands, ready to fight. The nearest wolves blinked, exchanging confused glances. They turned back to me, snarling and looking ready to pounce.
Yet they hesitated again. They seemed intent on calling my bluff.
But I wasn’t bluffing.
I didn’t turn toward Marceau, but I could feel his eyes on me. “You might actually be crazy,” he said.
“We’ll soon find out.”
Three wolves prowled toward me. Another stood at my left, while two more closed in from behind. I reminded myself how Francois had taught me to fight, years ago. Dodge their attacks. Use their actions against them. Let them tire themselves out.
Then strike hard and finish it fast.
The Lycanthru were no different than Jacque Denue and his gang, when I was a child. The wolves were bigger, faster, stronger, even smarter. But they were still a pack of vicious bullies, cruel and overconfident, with no idea how to handle an enemy who hit back.
The middle wolf leaped, fangs open, his companions springing forth with him as the others snarled behind me. I locked my fists and ducked under the main wolf, then rammed my shoulder and fists against it, my weight throwing it sideways into its companion. I fell to the floor and rolled over them both, then stood quickly and whirled back to stomp on each of their necks. It wasn’t enough to kill, but clearly hurt enough to keep them down for a few moments.
And shocking enough to make a few wolves pause.
The other inmates also paused, staring at me. Even Marc Creonin studied me, his chest swelling with interest as he stood taller.
Another wolf shook off his hesitation and leaped at me. I sidestepped it and grabbed its side to help send it flying past. Its fur tore off in my hands and it yelped before piling into two other beasts. I spun to face more oncoming wolves, who skidded to a halt as the fur fell from my fists.
They were scared of me. Even without my cloak or my crossbow. Because I dared to fight them.
I suddenly remembered how Father Vestille prayed over me at the Leónes’ house, to run to the battle like King David ran to meet Goliath, without fear or doubt. Knowing the Lord was with him. Be with me now, Lord.
I charged. The wolves bared their teeth and rushed forward. I turned, as if retreating, to let them come. Then I spun back and leaped past the outside wolf, rearing back to ram into its side and send it into the other two. I stomped its gut, but my slippers did little damage. I couldn’t keep this up for more than another minute.
I scanned the room, seeing DuChard stand to his feet with a look of outrage. Marceau and Dureau glanced about, their fists half-raised in defense. But the wolves beside them kept glancing in my direction. Several other wolves tried to weave their way past the stunned inmates to get at me. Beyond them, Garroche continued to threaten us all with his whip, ready to strike even the other Lycanthru if they moved from the center.
I dodged between the prisoners, hurrying toward Garroche. It was callous to use these men as shields, but the wolves now focused all their attention on me, and would likely leave the others alone. I rushed quickly between the men, some of whom stumbled backward, some falling over wolves, further blocking them from me.
I charged straight at Garroche as he raised his whip, looking surprised by my sudden attack. He cracked it at me, but I had drawn close enough to let it coil around my raised forearm. Before he could react, I yanked the whip from his hands, grabbing its handle and unrolling it from my arm quickly.
I yanked it free, letting it snap against the floor. Silence fell as every wolf and inmate stared at me.
I ran straight at Garroche, tucking my knees as I leaped in the air to kick at his furry chest. The blow knocked him over and I tumbled over him. Then I rose, whip in hand.
I turned to face the wolves, who now halted, gaping at me. I edged sideways, raising the whip in a threat. I had no idea how to wield it, but they didn’t know that. And they clearly didn’t want to test me.
Beyond DuChard and Simonet, other Lycanthru wolves began climbing down from the stands to make their way toward me. Ten or twenty of them.
Something groaned from the side wall. I glanced sideways to see a wide door opening. The sloping passage beyond it appeared empty. Marceau stood with his back to it but didn’t seem to notice.
I rushed for it, as the wolves growled behind me, their angry snarls swelling. I kept the whip but seized Marceau’s wrist. If I could only save one other man, it would be worth it. “Come on!” I shouted, tugging him along.
“What? What are you – no, wait!”
I yanked him through the door, tossing the whip inside and shoving the wide door closed. It clicked into place, seeming to lock on its own.
“No!” Marceau shouted, rushing at the door. He tugged on the thick iron handle once, then gave up and ran past me down a thin corridor. “What have you done? Run! Run!”
Several similar passages lay open for us to choose, rising ten feet high and lit by torches, but otherwise empty and harmless. The ceiling above the wall’s top ledge seemed dark and distant.
“What’s wrong?” I called, snatching up the whip and chasing after him as he reached the end of the passage and darted to the left, out of sight. I spotted him quickly enough, racing through the winding passage that took another turn. “I just saved you!” I shouted.
“Saved me?” he demanded in a panic. “You fool! You’ve trapped us in the Maze!”
42.
Marceau kept running, leaving me behind as he raced from one passage to another. He had seemed so brave, standing up to the Lycanthru as an inmate in their asylum, even preparing to protect me when we were placed in the Arena. Yet now he fled like a startled cat.
Which made me panic. “What is it?” I shouted after him as he disappeared around another corner. “What’s the Maze?”
I hurried after him, clutching Garroche’s whip as I pushed my shorter legs hard to keep up. Whatever we might face here, I figured I would need any weapon I could hold.
“Something they designed for us,” Marceau called back, still running. “For sport.”
There was that nasty word again. For sport.
I turned the corner and found another long passage, with openings to other passages along its right wall. I ran down it, listening for Marceau’s voice. “Marceau, wait!”
“No time!” he called. “They’ll be here any moment!”
That didn’t sound good. I pushed harder down the next passage, closing in on his voice as I glanced up at the dark empty space above the ten-foot walls. Then I caught a glimpse of Marceau escaping around another corner.
“They hunt us down here, like animals,” he called again. “Once they find us, we’ll have no escape. Then they’ll take their time clawing and biting us.”
I swallowed but kept running. His efforts to choose a path of escape helped me catch up. “There must be a way out.”
“Only if you can last an hour, without passing out or begging them to stop. Then they’ll leave us alone, they claim.”
“But they’re lying?”
“Who cares?” he said. “The longest anyone’s ever lasted is thirty-eight minutes, and that wasn’t easy!”
“That was you?” I asked.
“Yes! Half of my scars are from my few times in the Maze!”
I caught up to him as he stood before two paths, considering which one to
take. “Wait!” I called as he bolted down the right hand passage.
“Congratulations, Helena,” a voice called from overhead.
Light spilled into the area above the high walls. DuChard strode by, smiling down at me from a balcony that circled the upper area. I kept running, taking no time to respond, and he disappeared from my view behind the high walls.
“You found the Maze quicker than anyone,” DuChard called. I glimpsed other men and wolves filing into the balcony behind him, including Dureau and Marc Creonin. Simonet followed from behind, making sure they continued into the right seats. “It took Marceau a few weeks to notice that door opening in the Arena. Of course, he was close to your age, then. He’s since learned to avoid it. Until today. Well done, Helena. Now we can have our fill of entertainment from both of you.”
I hurried after Marceau. Somewhere behind us, I heard the Arena door opening. Heard a pack of wolves growling.
“We’re bringing in your fellow inmates, along with those who were spectators,” DuChard said. “No sense depriving them of the chance to see their greatest inspirations suffer.”
On the balcony, Dureau and others from the Arena were prodded to move inside, while the inmates from the stands entered with casual obedience. “Don’t fret, Helena,” DuChard called. “There are several ways to exit the Maze. Of course, that also means there are several ways to enter it.”
We heard more doors opening, from other walls. More growling and fast padding of wolf paws. We were lost and surrounded.
“Give us a chance to get comfortable, Helena. I don’t want to miss any of your screaming.”
I caught up to Marceau as he paused again to decide on the best direction. “We’ve got to get out of here,” I said.
He continued glancing back and forth, uncertain. “Not an option.”
“Not just the Maze. We need to escape the asylum.”
He glared at me. “Escape the asylum. Brilliant plan. Why didn’t I think of that thirty years ago?”
“You and Dureau already know how to escape your cells. If we work together with the other inmates, we can find a way out.”
He shook his head. “Focus on running now, suicide plans later.”
“We just need some silver,” I said, hurrying after him.
“Hmm. Perhaps that’s why they don’t keep any in the asylum,” he said, huffing. “Look, I’m glad you fought some of them off, but here, you’re as helpless as the rest of us. Nothing’s changed.”
“One thing has,” I said.
“What?” he demanded.
A wolf appeared at the end of the passage and grinned at us. Marceau backed away, ready to run.
“Wait,” I said, looking up the wall. “Here, jump.” I dropped the whip and cupped my hands together to lift his foot.
His eyes popped. Another glance at the wolf made up his mind, and he stepped up, letting me hoist him straight up the wall. Then I bent to grab the whip as the wolf snarled. I rose and snapped it back.
“Helena, no!” Marceau cried. He moved sideways to lay atop the wall and leaned over it to reach for me. “Up here!”
The wolf sprinted toward me as I prepared to crack the whip in its face. Then I heard more growls behind me. I might stop one, but not all three.
I snapped the whip against the wall. Marceau grabbed its tail end as I crouched and sprung up toward him. I wrapped the whip handle end around my wrist and Marceau hoisted me up the rest of the way, yanking the whip high. He pulled me up fast, out of the wolf’s passing jaws. I climbed onto the top of the wall, now seeing the pattern of the Maze from above.
“I’m here to help you now,” I said. “That’s what changed.”
He swallowed, nodded. “I’ll consider it. Now come on, we need to last an hour. They claim.”
“And find a way out,” I said, following him along the top of the wall. I doubted that Marceau actually believed they would leave us alone if we outlasted them in the Maze. Either way, we had little choice but to keep running as a few wolves spotted us from below.
“Impressive,” DuChard said, pacing along the upper platform. The other inmates peered over the edge, intrigued by our struggle. Even some of the wolves gaped at us with astonished looks. “You won’t last for long on that ledge, Mademoiselle. All you’ve done is delay your inevitable torment. The anticipation only makes it sweeter.”
We hurried along the Maze roof, peeking into its crevasses to see which wolves had noticed us yet. We could see all the way across its top surface, from wall to wall. But we still couldn’t determine where to exit, and we were too low to climb to the balcony, even with the whip. We searched about, frantic. “There must be some way out!” I said.
“Not from the Maze,” he said in a subdued tone. “And certainly not from the asylum. The best we can do is get outside the walls.”
I blinked. “So why haven’t you?”
“Why haven’t we invited them to hunt us down in the woods? I don’t know. Perhaps we prefer our blood on the inside.”
“I’ll handle the wolves. I just need my gloves.”
He knit his brows, waiting for me to explain. “Of course, the gloves,” he said. “No sense having your guts ripped open without proper attire. Should I bring you a fan as well?”
I ignored his mockery. “Get me my gloves and get us outside. Once I recover my crossbow, I’ll take us the rest of the way.”
“You’re serious,” he said. “You think you can actually escape this place.”
I bit my lip, hoping I looked determined instead of worried. “We can escape,” I said. “I’ll do whatever I have to, to fight them.”
He nodded. “I noticed. Still not sure I should entrust my life – and everyone else’s – to a little girl.”
I smirked. “I’m not a little girl, remember? I’m a man, seven feet tall, who kills wolves. And they’re afraid of me.”
He squinted. “Are you really the Rider?”
A wolf growled, close by. We turned toward it as it scrambled up onto a ledge a few yards away. “They’re over here,” he growled down to the others. Then he leaped to the next ledge, making his way toward us.
Marceau tugged at my arm. “Come on, quick.”
“Wait,” I said. “Let him come.”
His fingers tensed on my biceps. Brave as he was, he obviously struggled to remain still while the wolf jumped over the next few walls to join us. It grinned at us, padding closer, as another wolf jumped up to a ledge behind it.
The wolf sprinted and leaped at me, jaws wide. “Step back!” I ordered Marceau, dropping to my back as he released me and kicking up at the wolf’s gut as it passed over. I angled it just enough to send it flying past us and into the maze pit, howling as it fell, paws scrabbling for a foothold.
The other wolf gaped as its companion disappeared into the hole. It stared at me and I started toward it, startling it. Then it regained its courage and started toward us. I moved straight ahead to meet it. Since I refused to back down, I could see the doubt in its eyes as it slowed its gait.
“Attack her!” DuChard bellowed, as Dureau watched us anxiously from nearby. “She’s only a child!”
I scowled at the wolf, hurrying toward it. It summoned its courage and sprinted at me. I unrolled the whip and snapped it loudly against the side of the Maze wall, making the wolf blink. A guttural cry rose up from somewhere inside me, causing the wolf to slow to a halt, just before I slammed into it and sent it over the edge. I grabbed onto the ledge, struggling to pull myself back up as the wolf fell to the floor below. Marceau appeared the next instant, his strong arms helping pull me back up.
More wolves appeared on the surrounding ledges, closing in and snarling.
No escape.
Marceau laughed.
“Something amuses you, Marceau?” DuChard asked.
“Yes,” Marceau answered. “You. Trying to fool us again into thinking you’ve captured the Red Rider.”
“Quiet, Marceau, you pathetic insect!” one Lycanthru called from the
balcony.
Marceau kept on, pointing at me with delight. “You expect us all to believe this child is the Red Rider? The one you’re so afraid of? Look, everyone. The mighty Lycanthru have conquered a little girl!”
DuChard narrowed his eyes but remained still. “Once again, your mouth is getting you into trouble, Marceau.”
“Of course it is,” Marceau answered happily. “Isn’t that why we’re all here? But why is she here? Is she a threat to you? Yes, she has scars across her face like the Red Rider, which you surely did yourself, to pretend you defeated him.”
“That is the Red Rider, you fool!” another wolf snarled.
“Oh, of course she is,” Marceau countered. “She looks just like him, doesn’t she? With her big red cloak, and her crossbow that fires endless bolts. You can tell this little girl is the Red Rider just by looking at her!” He laughed harder. “Even your own followers aren’t that stupid, DuChard.”
“The Red Rider is a girl,” another wolf shouted, pointing at me. “That girl, there!”
Yet the others moved in closer, looking doubtful. Especially those who had never seen me in battle.
“Well, then, tremble, all of you,” Marceau said, making a frightened face. “Shiver and quiver where you stand, because right here in this room is your deadliest enemy.” He stepped back and spread his palms toward me, as if presenting a princess at a royal ball. “Tremble before her, the one and only – Red Rider!” He laughed and laughed, bringing tears to his eyes. “If your Prime wanted to set your minds at ease, he could have at least scratched up the face of a man!”
A wolf snarled into Marceau’s face. “I tell you, that girl is the Red Rider! DuChard captured her and she’s ours.”
“How?” Marceau asked, unimpressed. “How could DuChard possibly have captured the Red Rider? Was there some great battle? This girl doesn’t even have any scars except for the ones on her face. It’s no surprise that DuChard could pounce on a little girl and drag her here. But I didn’t know he could fool his entire order so easily.”
Red Rider Revolution Page 28