Page 63 of Kingmakers, Year Four

I hear footsteps behind us—August Prieto with fire in his lungs and malice in his heart, trying to overtake us.

We’ve almost reached the third obstacle: five pillars, before which stand five spherical stones.

I’ve seen this before. It’s part of a typical strong-man competition, and also some of the Highland Games. I’ve seen it called the Atlas Stones, or the Dinnie Stones in Scotland.

You’re supposed to lift the rocks, one by one, placing them atop the pillars.

Each stone is heavier than the one before.

I can’t help casting a worried glance at Nix—strong as she might be, someone like Tristan will be at an obvious advantage in this part of the competition.

“Go ahead,” I say to Nix, nodding for her to try the lightest stone first, while I start with the second.

Nix braces herself, feet wide apart, so she can muscle up the awkwardly-shaped rock. It’s difficult to gain purchase on the smooth sphere.

I’m having the same problem with the second stone. I try several angles before bear-hugging the damn thing and lifting it up to the plinth, which is chest height for me and nearly head-height for Nix.

Grunting, Nix manages to lift her stone. It must weigh at least eighty pounds. The others only get heavier.

Once she’s completed the lift, Nix shoves the stone down again so August can take his turn. I do the same with mine, grimacing at how hard it falls to the ground, knowing Nix will have to lift it back up again.

I work my way down the line. Each stone feels twice as heavy as the one before, though I know that’s only my own growing exhaustion. The real difference in weight is probably only twenty to thirty pounds per rock. Still, it adds up quick.

By the time I get to the fifth and heaviest stone, I’m guessing it’s about two hundred pounds. I have no idea how Nix will lift it, and Ihave the sick sensation that this might be the end of her race.

Tristan Turgenev has finally caught up with us. He seems to view the stones as a pleasant break from all the hateful running. With an expression of relief, he easily heaves up the stones one after another with no break in between.

August looks like he’d like to kill Tristan. He’s still struggling with the fifth stone, having failed to lift it twice. He has to step aside to let Tristan finish.

I go back to the first stone and hoist it up, almost glad I saved the lightest for last.

Task complete, Tristan jogs off.

I should leave too. I linger, wondering if Nix will be able to lift the fifth stone. It took her several tries to get the fourth.

August manages to muscle the last and heaviest stone onto the stand, knocks it off, and sprints after Tristan.

Nix braces herself, breathing heavily, staring at that damned stone like it’s her mortal enemy. She hugs it to her chest, driving her heels into the dirt, the muscles standing out on her quads against the tight legs of her shorts.

I can’t stand and watch. My team is waiting somewhere along this course, hoping to see me in the lead, expecting me to win.

I start running again, praying for Nix’s sake she can do it, even though I’m supposed to be beating her along with everyone else.

The next obstacle is a long crawl under a low-slung net, in which we receive a thick coating of dust and pine needles, and August and I pass Tristan once more.

Then we come to a pool with chain-link stapled over top.

August stares in confusion.

“How the fuck are we supposed to cross that?” he says.

The pool is essentially a shallow wooden coffin, a hundred yards long, filled with water. The only break in the chain-link is at the front of the pool, and then again at the end.

“You’ve got to swim across,” I say.

I’m already dropping through the narrow opening in the chain-link. As far as I can tell, the point of this particular challenge is to battle your claustrophobia. The water is barely deep enough to actually swim. You can come up for air, but just barely—you’ve got to lay on your back, your face pressed against the metal mesh, with barely enough space for your mouth to open without water rushing in.

It doesn’t bother me much—I used to swim in the ocean all summer long when we stayed at our house in Poseidonia. Ares and I even swam through the narrow sea caves on the south end of the island. So I’m able to cross the pool with only two breaks to breathe.

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