I bob under a fist intended for my nose and bury my own deep into his stomach. He grunts, doubling over but grabs my arm in one swift movement. Then he twists, pulling both my arm behind my back and my chest towards the fire. Pain laces up to my shoulder as the flames glow in front of me.
Maybe I should have tried harder.
He kicks in the back of my knees, hard, before the even harder ground sends a jolt up my legs when I collide with it. The flames are close to me now, nearly licking my bare chest.
“Just let me cut off the band, Kai,” Braxton says from above me, sounding like a plea. It’s good to know that he doesn’t exactly like the idea of burning me alive. “This can all be over.” His voice is deep, but I catch the slight quiver in it. He’s caught off guard, shocked that he has me hovering over the flames like the now burnt rabbit beside me.
I was sloppy and tired, a fool who underestimated him, but now he has the future Enforcer at his mercy. “This is the best fight we’ve ever had, Brax. I’m impressed, truly,” I pant, the heat of the fire drawing beads of sweat down my face. “But you’re going to have to burn me before I let you have my band.”
He heaves a sigh. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” A pause. “And I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
Flesh meets fire.
Skin meets searing, hot flame.
I expect a scream to tear from my throat, but nothing but a strangled cry slips past my lips. Braxton’s knee drives into my back, angling my body and forcing the left side of my chest into the flames.
I’m burning, boiling, blistering as he holds me there before finally pulling me back, allowing cool air to wash over me. I’m gasping as he reaches with his other hand towards the sword at my side, ready to draw it from its sheath and cut the band from my arm now that I’m dazed with pain.
Oh, but I’ve known pain far worse.
His arm reaches beside me, and I grab it, standing to my feet in the same motion, adrenaline drowning out the ache of my burned flesh. I pull his arm over my shoulder and tip my body forward, using my momentum and Brawny strength to lift him off the ground and send him flipping over my back and straight into the flames.
He lets out a cry but doesn’t linger for long before rolling out of the flames, yelping as he wriggles in the dirt to smother the fire eating away at his clothes, his skin. Smoke is curling from his burned clothing when I crouch over him.
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way either,” I say softly as he pants heavily beneath me. “But you have something I need.”
I slice the band from his forearm, unable to stop from nicking him and drawing more blood. His breathing is raspy as I search his pockets for any other bands he may have stolen on the way, finding none. I stand, staring down at him and uttering one word. “Go.”
He stares up at me for a moment before grunting in pain as he scrambles to his feet, limping into the woods as quickly as his charred body is able. I watch him leave, hearing him struggle to navigate through the dark woods, knowing he won’t dare to come back. Then I turn, looking directly at the Sight I knew had been documenting the entire fight.
“Hope you enjoyed the show,” I say with a mock bow of my head. As soon as the words left my mouth, the women in white blinked and vanished into the forest.
I tuck Braxton’s band into my pocket as pain racks my body. Blinding, blistering pain. I look down at the red, inflamed patch of skin right above my tattoo.
The adrenaline is gone, and I’m left with nothing but pain coursing through my body. I stagger over to my canteens, unscrewing one and pouring the cold contents over the burn. I hiss through my teeth when water meets burned flesh, but it’s a relief, however small it may be.
I grab my crumpled shirt from my pocket and tear a large strip of cloth from it with my teeth before beginning to gingerly wrap the fabric under my arm and over the burn. The result is a makeshift bandage to try and lessen the chance of infection. But it won’t do for long. I need to find some herbs, something, anything, to clean the wound.
Because dying is not an option.
And losing these Trials certainly isn’t either.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Paedyn
“I am going to wring your neck if you don’t shut up.”
The bird completely ignores my very real threat of death and continues to squabble on the branch above my head. It’s been squawking for nearly half an hour, resulting in me throwing at least a dozen rocks in its direction.
I’m annoyed, angry, anxious, and above all, absolutely starving. Of course, these are all side effects of waking up in the middle of the wilderness with nothing but the clothes I slept in. I look down at my tight, cloth pants and even more revealing tank. A skimpy, silky thing that I regret ever putting on, considering it will now be my only shirt for the next week.
A week.
That’s how long I must survive in this forest. In the Whispers. In this place crawling with enemies of all shapes and sizes, though it’s already midday and the only opponent I’ve faced so far is the snake that nearly bit my foot off. I’ve been trekking through the thick foliage since the moment I woke up, face down in the dirt, after blinking awake to a staring woman clad in blinding white.
A Sight. Here to spy on the opponents. Here to record this bloody Trial. Here to document what the audience is not able to witness for themselves.
I’m sure the rest of Ilya is just as confused as I am about this year’s Trials. Though, I can’t say we weren’t warned.
Different. That’s all the warning we got.
Except that different does not even begin to describe how drastically these Trials have changed. In the past three decades, there has never been a Trial outside of the Bowl walls, outside of the prying eyes of the audience. But only the best, the most brutal and bloody Trials, are fit to test the future Enforcer, I suppose. I just wish I wasn’t a part of it.
We’ve all been unwittingly thrown into the deadly Whispers, left to die by the elements or by the hand of our enemies. It’s brilliant. It’s bastardly. And I don’t know whether to clap or cry.
I should expect nothing less from the king.
My eyes dart to my right forearm where the leather strap is wrapped tightly.
“Collect from those who have been banded and be warned if you return empty-handed.”
I laugh bitterly to the emptiness surrounding me. They want us to fight, truly fight one another for these strips of leather. So, in an effort to stay alive long enough to find another opponent, I set out to find water. The trees here are tremendous and terrifying, towering high in the air and scraping the low clouds. It took me ages to scale one to find the closest water source, and the past several seriously boring hours have consisted of trudging towards what I’m hoping is a creek.