Page 79 of The Dark Rises
Tempted to look to my right, I turn toward Rivan instead and warn him, “Don’t brace.”
He flashes a broad smile. “Got it.” Taking a step forward, he waits.
Two large hands appear with metal claws attached. They embed themselves at his neck and shred his skin from his shoulders to his feet.
I wait for him to yell or curse or anything, but he’s completely silent.
When we step up next to him, there’s a painful smile on his face.
“The first time Meri and I met, Nyssa threw one of her tantrums. She hated my runes and the protection they provided against her. In her fury, she shredded my skin,” he confides, the darkness of the past straining his voice. “I didn’t want to regenerate because it would take me weeks to add them again. Meri understood. She stayed with me for three days until I healed.”
He turns his head toward us. “Leandra couldn’t have been too happy, but Meri never said anything about it.”
Sometimes I wonder if The Below was the better deal. Three thousand years of Nyssa and I would have been completely psychotic.
Odin’s voice calls out. “If you move from the line, you’ll have to start over. Do you understand?”
Confused, we all three look at each other and it hits us.
Meri’s voice carries across the gauntlet. “I…”
We step forward, taking the last hit together. Darts hit our neck. Seconds later, liquid fire courses through our veins, burning everything in its path.
“Step forward,” Rivan gasps. “You have to go first.”
In a haze, I move, and the second my foot touches the finish line, the pain disappears. The wounds are still there in all their gory glory, but the pain is gone.
Cormal and Rivan step forward and stop the platinum tornado hurtling herself toward us.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I whisper furiously at her. “Never. Do you hear me? I’ll never let you stand in and take a hit for me. I would rather die.”
Both Rivan and Cormal agree.
Meri laughs. “Never is a long time. Besides, the natives were getting restless.” She waves a hand to the ten on the sidelines. Monsters, warriors, and other creatures. “Who knows what they would have come up with next?”
Odin walks over to us. “Congratulations and all that. Unorthodox, but you made it. The power and crown are yours.”
He moves to Meri, and I tense. “The younglings enjoyed your visit today. They want you to come back.” His face is set as if he expects her to reject his invitation.
Meri’s eyes fill with tears, and Odin hurriedly steps backward.
“I would love to,” she says with a sniff. “Everybody needs friends, right?”
Odin looks nonplussed, and I laugh. “That’s how it starts. You’ll never get rid of her.”
She glares at me but turns to wave at the stands. “I’ll miss you, but I’ll return as soon as I can.”
Cormal mutters under his breath, cursing me and my unusual lineage.
Rivan steps to the side and regenerates, returning minutes later with smooth skin.
Cormal’s sides slowly knit themselves back together.
My skin tightens as the healing process starts, and I can’t help but be thankful for Rivan’s runes. If not, this would be near impossible to endure.
Odin steps in front of me, the orb of power in his right hand, and I realize this is the last step of the gauntlet. He slams it into my body. Scar tissue separates, opening a hole for the power. Ancient and dark, it warps and shapes itself, testing the boundaries around it, then settles in, waiting for me to call it forward.
Odin’s satisfied nod tells me he’s happy. “You’re strong like Konnyr. You’ll need it. The world is changing, leaving the old ways behind. The Fae need a leader who won’t be afraid to forge a new path.”
