Page 77 of The Dark Rises
“We have to go,” I tell Aamon. “It’s almost time.”
I say goodbye to Aamon’s friends and follow him to the gauntlet.
He grabs my hand, and I squeeze it. “He’ll be fine. Madoc’s tough.”
I don’t know whether I’m reassuring him or myself.
Lux grabs my other hand, and I hold on to them both.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MADOC
Meri strides toward us with Lux and Aamon by her side. She doesn’t see the younglings following in the shadows behind her, nor the warriors of the hunt studying her closely. Her ability to adapt and find joy in any environment used to puzzle me, but after visiting a few of her many different homes, I know it’s how she coped and found a little beauty in her life.
The relief on Cormal’s face is almost comical. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Seeing Aamon’s new place and meeting his friends,” she replies, deliberately rolling her eyes. “How are you doing?” She scans my face as if she’s trying to delve below the surface, but I don’t dare show her how much I’m dreading the gauntlet.
“Ready to go home,” I growl, needing a reminder of what comes after this. The four of us. Together.
Rivan comes up and joins us.
“We’re going to need to find a place,” she pertly informs me. “Several places, actually. Cormal needs a sinful city with lots of secrets. Rivan needs to breathe and fly. You need less technology and lots of swords. All those homes need to also have a fantastic rooftop for us to peer at the stars.”
“What do you need?” Rivan questions softly.
“I need all of you,” she answers before looking at me. “So, go, run the gauntlet. Do not let them take you down. And don’t forget to think outside the box. Got it?” Her voice is sharp and full of determination.
“Keep your shield up,” I order her. “It’s not like I’ll be able to come to your aid.”
She moves into my arms and presses her lips to mine. “I’m quite obsessed with you, you know.”
I press my forehead to hers, then slip on the meanest, surliest look I own.
“It’s time,” Odin informs me. “Here are the rules. No shields. You cannot use magic to dull the pain. No fighting back. Ten lashes delivered one at a time by weapon, hand, or claw. You must make it past the line at the end. Good luck.”
Basically, walk the gauntlet, let them strike me ten times, get to the finish line. Got it. I clasp arms with both Rivan and Cormal. “If something happens…”
“Shut the fuck up,” Cormal snarls. “Tell me the rules again.” He nods as I repeat the words Odin gave me.
Rivan claps me on the back. “The runes will kick in the second you finish to ease the pain.”
Meri sends Lux and Aamon to join the crowd on the sidelines. “Whatever you do, don’t interfere.” They both promise to stay put.
Not wanting anything to get embedded in the wounds, I remove my shirt and pants. I hear the crowd point and whisper,but unlike most of the Fae, they appreciate the scars on my body. Warrior, I hear them say. I lift my chin and walk to the start line.
The bells strike midnight. When the last one tolls, I step onto the gauntlet. Neither looking right nor left, I stare straight ahead, desperately wanting to brace against the first hit but knowing it will only make it worse. Loosening my muscles, I hear the sound of a heavy chain whooshing through the air.
Wrapping around my arms and torso, barbed spikes embed themselves in my skin. The chain tightens, then loosens, dropping to the ground, leaving sheer agony in its wake. Blood flows like a river to my feet. Breathing through the pain, I swallow several times to give myself something to do besides scream. First hits are always the hardest, right?
Exhaling, I loosen my muscles and step forward again. There is no sound or warning this time. Four sharp points embed themselves in my shoulder and swipe diagonally across my back. Claws. Deep too. The night air slips into the furrows left behind going at least an inch deeper than the skin left intact.
Mother fucker. Son of a bitch.The litany of silent curses continues as I fight to keep my body loose and step forward again.
The gleam of metal flashes in front of me as the scythe slices across my chest, the curved hook doing the most damage as it catches on my side. The wielder grunts and jerks it out, leaving a gaping hole behind. I peer down and see a glint of white mixed in with the blood, tissue, and muscles. Are those my ribs?
Number fucking four.
