The Doomsday Trial

by Claire Luana

  “Get off me, you asshole!” Sophia cried.

  I had to give it to her. Sophia was putting up a good fight. But the king was stronger.

  “One of these humans has to die, my boy,” the king said. “Their blood is all the same. If you want to save the blonde one, you leave me no choice.”

  Then everything happened at once. Sophia bit down into the king’s hand, causing him to drop her to the floor. They both screamed in pain at the same time; Vale, because of his hand, and Sophia because she’d landed on her ankle. Tristam ran towards her to pull her away at the exact moment I finally loosened Orin’s ropes enough for him to escape.

  “Just do it already!” Patricia screamed amidst all the chaos. A shot rang out, deafening in the echoing chamber. I held my hands to my ears as everything played out as if in slow motion. I looked frantically at Orin, but he appeared fine.

  It seemed that nobody moved for a couple of seconds, but then Sophia’s eyes widened. A bloom of red spread out from a wound in her shoulder. Patricia’s bullet had struck her. She moaned, crumpling in on herself.

  “No!” Somebody screamed out as Sophia began to fall to the floor. It could have been me, it could have been Orin or Tristam. Perhaps it was all three of us. Tristam caught her, lowering her to the floor.

  The king moved quickly and backhanded Tristam across the face, knocking him away from Sophia. I winced, as I had just felt the force of such a blow a few minutes ago myself. It seemed it was the king’s go-to move. “We need her lifeblood spilled on the foundation!” The king said, beginning to drag her towards the huge obelisk.

  Sophia screamed in agony as he wrenched her arm attached to her wounded shoulder. “Help me, Patricia,” he cried. He was just steps from the obelisk. And Sophia’s blood was all he needed to detonate the MED and take out the final anchor.

  Tristam was back on his feet and exploded at his father with a howl, knocking the king back with a right hook to the jaw.

  I was impressed, but there wasn’t any time. “Patricia,” Orin cried, as the TV host in heels had taken the king’s place dragging Sophia.

  We pounded up the stairs to the altar, but she saw us and seized her pistol from the dusty floor, aiming wild shots at us. As her pistol swung towards me, a bullet hit something in front of us and harmlessly fell to the floor. A sheen of purple light illuminated the space between Patricia and us. Orin had produced a force field that had saved us. We took advantage of the protection to scramble to the side, behind an ancient stone statue that flanked the staircase.

  Patricia kept firing, and her bullets hit the ceiling and the wall. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t get lucky.

  I risked a peek out from behind the statue and Patricia got off another shot. This one whizzed just inches from my head, taking a chunk of stone with it. She fired again, sending another loud bang ringing through my ears followed by the clink of metal on stone. She fired again, and I heard the click of the cartridge. She was empty.

  As we stood Patricia stalked towards us with a sneer on her face. This was not the face of a TV presenter, but of a monster. If only her fans could see her now. But there was nothing she could do to us. She was outnumbered, and her gun was empty, but as she strode purposely in our direction, I had the feeling she was up to something.

  When she was no more than a couple of feet in front of us, she pulled her hand back. A jet of orange light pushed right past Orin’s force field and knocked us off our feet.

  I fell hard on my ass, my tailbone exploding in pain. Orin tumbled down the stairs. But I couldn’t focus on him right now, for one thought resounded through my mind. Fuck!. She could do magic?

  She pulled back her hand to strike again, but I didn’t have Orin’s force field to protect me. Determination flooded me. If this bitch could do magic, so could I. I’d had enough. Enough of her and enough of this bullshit.

  When her burst of orange flame came for me, I was ready. I’d gathered my magic pets to me, and after ducking and rolling out of the way of her strike, I sent everything at her. Everything I had. Water, fire, air, earth. Beside me, I could feel Orin joining his magic with mine in a powerful blow—a molten geyser of elements that knocked her off her feet. Her body tumbled backward in a tangle of limbs, her head hitting the stone floor hard. She came to a stop against the base of the pulsing obelisk, one arm contorted in an unnatural manner.

  I approached her cautiously, my hands out, ready for another all-out magical assault. Orin was scrambling up the stairs beside me, blood dribbling down his forehead where he must have hit his head.

  Patricia was unconscious, but her body and face were morphing.

  “What’s happening?” I asked, backing away a step. Her skin rippled grotesquely.

  Orin backed up a step too. “She’s had years of magical enhancements, thanks to my mother. I guess it’s wearing off. But I don’t know why.”

  “Maybe your magic is similar to your mother’s,” I speculated. “So your attack triggered some sort of unraveling of her spells.”

  “That’s a fair theory,” Orin’s tone sounded impressed, but I couldn’t look away from the horror before me. As we watched, her blonde hair turned a dull grey, and the buttons on her dress popped as her waistline expanded. Wrinkles appeared on her forehead, and her skin sagged. I was about to open my mouth to make a comment about her not winning any sexiest People awards next year when a pain rippled through me, seizing my body in its grasp.

  A bellow escaped from Orin, matching my cry as I doubled over, gasping for breath. Every movement was agony. I gingerly turned my pounding head to see King Obanstone’s polished leather boots summit the steps. The ornamental dagger was clutched in his fist. “I just need a human. I suppose she’ll do.”

  28

  I fell to my knees, fighting against the roaring pain. I thought I might black out. “What…are you…”

  “I’ve had enough of your tomfoolery. I’ll admit, I never thought you’d last this long, but I’m not going to let the two of you foil everything I’ve worked for all these years. It’s time you understand where you belong. Cowering on the floor.” He tightened the fingers in his other hand, forming a fist, and the pain exploded through me, filling every pore. I fell to the ground as a scream ripped from me, unable to do anything but writhe in torment.

  Some dim part of me was aware of the rest of the chamber, Orin gasping next to me and Tristam, his face bloodied, thrashing on one of the steps just feet below us. The king raised his hands and the knife aloft, speaking in a loud chant, no doubt mirrored at four other anchor points around Faerwild.

  Orin’s hand crept towards mine, his fingers grasping. At least when the world ended, we’d be together. I rallied my effort, focusing all my strength and will into my arm—my hand. Stretching it out to meet his fingers.

  When our fingers met and wound through each other, something strange happened. The pain lessened. My mind cleared just a touch. As if our power together had more of a chance of resisting the king’s magic.

  A desperate idea seized me, and I reached back with a groan of anguish, moving my other arm to grasp for Tristam’s hand. My fingers just brushed against his but fell short—he was too far. But that brush was enough. The pain had lessened for an instant, proving my theory correct. I redoubled my efforts and grabbed for Tristam’s hand, locking fingers with him.

  Blessed relief flooded through me as the three of us locked our hands. Sophia was lying on the stone just a few feet from Orin, a puddle of blood beneath her, her skin wan. She had passed out, but her chest still moved in a shallow rhythm. Orin seemed to understand what I was doing, and so, he inched the other way, reached out, and grabbed her wrist.

  The king raised the dagger now and plunged it down into Patricia’s chest. I scrunched my eyes closed to block the sight of the blow. Even awful Patricia didn’t deserve to be sacrificed like some damsel in an Indiana Jones movie.

  Sophia stirred, her eyes opening, blinking at us. We didn’t have much time. Patricia’s blood was we
tting the foundation of the altar, the space beneath the MED detonator. “Together,” I whispered through the pain, turning first to Orin, then to Tristam. They both nodded.

  I went inside myself, looking for the magic version of me, the creatures Orin had taught me represented my magic. And I found more. Magic purple bunnies hopped, shimmering blue fish swam through the air, a hawk dipped and cried. A shimmering red dragon with eyes like Sophia’s. A purple version of Orin stood in the vast black space inside, looking at me with determination. I gathered all the forces to me, pulling them into one huge ball of magical bad-assery. Powerful enough to defeat the most powerful magician in Faerwild. Powerful enough to stop a mad king.

  Through the pain, I honed my focus. And then I hurdled that ball of magic at him with every ounce of strength I had. The strength of four.

  It ripped from me with the force of a rocket launcher, striking the king square between the shoulders. Flames of purple and blue and orange and red exploded around him, whirling in a magic tornado that enveloped him.

  I thought I heard his scream through the roar of the magic, but I couldn’t see him inside our assault—couldn’t know if he was fighting back. If it would be enough.

  Until the pain inside me vanished. The tension melted from me, and my head fell to the ground in blessed relief. Whatever spell the king had placed on us had ceased.

  Our magical inferno dimmed too, the flames growing faint, and then puffing away into smoke. The chamber was quiet and still. A body thumped to the ground, collapsing like a sack of potatoes. The king.

  Every cell in my body protesting, I pushed to my knees, crawling towards the prone form of King Vale Obanstone. He was singed and smoking.

  “Is he alive?” I croaked.

  It was Tristam who turned him over. The king’s eyes were closed, his unnaturally handsome face laced through with tiny black lines. “I don’t think so,” Tristam said, his voice strangled.

  It was then that the sound of boots reached my ears, from the tunnel where we’d first entered this crypt of hell. I turned towards the entrance sluggishly. I didn’t think I had it in me to fight whatever was coming out of that darkness. My body was raw and ragged, my head roaring from the strain of releasing that much magic.

  Orin didn’t seem to care either, he was focusing on Sophia, holding his hands over her wound, plying her with purple quora magic. I didn’t know how he had any juice left. But I hoped he could save her.

  Tristam stood and held out a hand for me. His face was pale. I looked from him to his hand before taking it, grateful for help getting up to my shaky legs. “Someone’s coming,” he said simply. I think he might have been in shock.

  I nodded, doing my best to brace myself.

  Men in black SWAT uniforms poured out of the tunnel, and I risked a hope. One turned, and I saw the ICCF logo across his back. Had the cavalry arrived?

  When I saw Cass with her blonde ponytail, I let out a sob of relief, my knees almost failing me. Tristam put his arm around me, keeping me from falling until Cass vaulted up the stairs and wrapped her arms around me.

  We rocked back and forth, and I leaned into her strength, her presence. “I thought I’d lost you,” she murmured into my shoulder. “I was so scared. I thought we’d never get here in time.”

  “I was a little worried about that myself.”

  We peeled apart reluctantly, and Cass turned to take in the scene. Two ICCF members were kneeling by Sophia, one with pointed ears taking over for Orin. Cass’s eyes fixed on the king’s still form. “How’d you do it? How’d you defeat him?”

  I looked at Tristam. “We had a little help. Turns out all Obanstones aren’t murderous bastards.”

  “You’re telling me,” Cass said with a secret smile, and it was then that Tristam caught sight of his brother, his golden hair standing out against his black uniform and bulletproof vest.

  “Auberon?” Tristam breathed, stepping forward. “It’s really you? She told me you were alive…but...I can’t believe Father lied this whole time…” He stumbled over his words, his blue eyes wide.

  Auberon strode to meet his brother and pulled him into an embrace. “We’ve lots to catch up on little brother. I’m happy to hear you chose the right side.”

  “Better late than never,” Tristam said sheepishly.

  “Agreed.”

  Tristam turned to regard Sophia. I could see his eyes sliding over the spot where his father’s corpse lay prone and still. “Will she be all right?”

  “The ICCF has the best doctors and healers either side of the Hedge. We’ll fix her up,” Auberon said.

  Tristam shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”

  Orin came to stand by me, and I leaned into him. The adrenaline was draining from us, and I was starting to feel like I had been fed through a wood-chipper. “Can we get out of here?” I asked him. I didn’t want to be in this place anymore, with Patricia’s foreign form, gazing up with vacant eyes—the king’s blackened skin beside her.

  “Of course,” Cass said. “You two need to get checked out too. The ICCF can handle clean up here. We’re getting reports from our other teams at the other anchor points that the other Brotherhood members have been apprehended, and the MEDs recovered.”

  “Good.” I closed my heavy eyelids for a moment, and it was a struggle to open them again.

  We started toward the tunnel entrance. “Oh, just a moment,” Orin said. He limped across the chamber and bent to retrieve something at the base of the stairs. When he returned, he handed it to Cass. It was the other mirror she had given us at the beginning of the trial. “What’s that for?” I asked.

  “How did you think we knew you were here?” Cass asked as we moved slowly into the darkness of the tunnel, back toward the altar. “Orin opened his mirror and left it on. I was smart enough not to say anything to expose the trick. Jacq, I’m so sorry about that, by the way. If I hadn’t said something when you tried to contact me—”

  I waved away her apology. “Water under the bridge.”

  She bit her lip in an expression that said that she would definitely owe me for all time, but she continued. “The mirrors have trackers, but the upstairs of the temple was empty. We were confused and couldn’t find you until Orin called and left the mirror running. We were able to figure out based on the image we could see through the mirror and the king’s comments where you were. So we came down here.”

  “Smarty-pants,” I looked at Orin with fondness.

  “That’s Mr. Smarty-pants to you,” he replied.

  “We recorded all the king’s comments in audio. The truth of Vale Obanstone and the Brotherhood will soon be public knowledge. The ICCF will be able to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

  “I’m glad,” I said.

  “It’s time someone honorable rules Faerwild,” Cass said.

  I nodded, thinking of Tristam, but I realized that she was gazing at Auberon, her eyes shining with love.

  “Oh, damn, your boyfriend is gonna be king,” I said, realizing. Auberon was the elder son, so he was the heir. “Does that mean you’re going to be queen? A real freaking faerie queen?”

  “Jacq,” Cass said, blushing.

  But Auberon just put his arm around Cass, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to the side of her forehead. “Maybe someday.”

  I grinned at her and then turned to Orin. I planted my own kiss on his cheek. Who would have thought that both of these Montana girls would end up with faeries? Mom and Dad were going to freak.

  29

  The world spun around me—my only anchor, Orin’s hand fixed firmly in mine. Tens of thousands of screams greeted us as we summited the stairs leading up to the stage. Most of the crowd were faeries, but some were humans, let into Faerwild just for this. The Fantastic Faerie Race award ceremony. And we were the winners.

  Orin and I walked towards the two seats in the center of the huge stage, the spotlights intense above us. We weren’t alone, though. The other contestants
had been invited back as had Gabe and Evaline. My parents and Orin’s parents waved at us from the side of the stage as we followed the other contestants, who had taken their seats in two semi-circles to the left and right of our chairs.

  Last to take the stage before us, Tristam was helping Sophia navigate to her seat with her crutches. It turned out she had broken her ankle after all, but I’d heard she’d landed a very lucrative modeling contract that would start once her leg healed—which would be just another day, thanks to faerie magic. It was a far cry from the future she’d almost had, just two days prior—sacrificed to the late King Vale Obanstone’s greed and ambition. Even though Tristam and Sophia had gotten to the final checkpoint at the same time as us, the FFR producers had declared Orin and me the victors of the race after Tristam admitted the extent to which his father had gone to rig the race in their favor. As he sat on the couch now, one arm splayed over the back of the couch behind Sophia, Tristam looked content. I would have thought the death of his father would have left him more troubled, but he seemed almost…peaceful. As if the Faerie king’s death had freed him somehow.

  When Orin and I sat down, the noise of the crowd almost deafened me. The new presenter settled into the chair next to us—and this one I trusted a bit more than Patricia. My roommate, Christine, had jumped at the chance at Patricia’s old job and had finally forgiven me for drinking all her whiskey after I put her name forward for the opportunity.

  I surveyed the other sofas, filled with Dulcina, Molly, Duncan, and the rest. I could hardly conceive all that we’d been through together. All we’d survived. Though not everyone had made it out safely, I thought with a pang of sorrow. Behind us, two giant screens showed pictures of Zee and Genevieve. I thought of Ben, too, who had saved us at the end of the Elemental Trial. His photo should be up there too. I’d never forget what he’d sacrificed for me.

  Besides our fallen friends, the only people I felt were missing from this ceremony were Cass and Auberon. I wished they could be here to see this, but I understood how busy they’d been between rounding up the Brotherhood and Auberon coming forward and presenting himself as the surprise heir to the throne who was very much alive. Plus, we would see them later.