CHAPTER 42

My sister’s mutterings have dwindled down to ragged breathing. Even with her head resting on my lap, I can barely hear her. Essa falls down to her knees on the sand next to Rev and lays a trembling hand on her face, her bloody sword forgotten.

I want to tell her she should watch her arm. Immobilize it now and go see an actual healer at the first opportunity. Nothing comes out. I just stare dumbly at Rev’s white face, the arrowhead poking out of her, the blood painting the sand, mixing with the drake’s.

“We should remove the arrow,” Essa says.

“That would only kill her faster,” I answer. “Can’t bind it.”

“But we have to… We can’t…”

For the first time since I’ve met her, Essa seems at a loss. There’s no trace of glory in her expression. No joy at being a step away from freedom. The way she looks at my sister, it’s clear I’m not the only one who just lost the Challenge.

I feel Hilde’s hand on my shoulder. The gauntlet is heavy there, and after a moment I hear her mutter and loosen the straps before letting the piece of armor fall to the ground. Whatever red light still coursed through the veins is now gone, the magic expended. Hilde pats my shoulder again and wanders off.

I look around the door to check on Rue, still perched on the pedestal and illuminated from underneath by the red light that streams up from it. His buzz flares up as soon as he notices me looking.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

It’s hard to feel anything right now, but still the little creature’s worry, his sorrow, sparks something in me akin to emotion. Swallowing a lump in my throat, I smile and nod at Rue, then turn back as Rev gives a little cough. I lean over her, staring intently into her eyes, but it’s only that: a cough. She returns to her fitful unconsciousness.

“Malco!”

Hilde returns carrying something in her hand. She holds it up and I see that it’s the glue bottle.

“Can’t you use this?” she asks.

“Use what?”

“The glue!” she nearly shouts. “There’s a little inside still. Use it to close her wounds!”

Essa looks up at Hilde and then at me. Rev’s organs have been pierced, I should say. There’s nothing a bit of magic glue can do about that. If I were standing in the laboratory, a thousand years ago, I still wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t want to tell them it won’t work. So I don’t tell them. I nod.

We turn Rev with the utmost care. With the state of my hand and Essa’s arm, the responsibility of snapping the end of the arrow goes to Hilde, who balks at first, but then sits down and does her best to follow my instructions.

When the arrow breaks, Reva gives a little grunt, but otherwise doesn’t react. I slide the arrow out of her with my good hand, wincing at the pained expression in her face. Blood bubbles up to the surface of the thin arrowhole before Essa manages to persuade a drop of glue to fall from the bottle onto the bloody mess. I pinch the flesh together, and immediately the wound closes. We do the same for the entry wound with a smaller final drop, that is nonetheless sufficient. After we roll Rev onto her back, her expression softens a little, though her brow stayss furrowed, her cheeks pale. Essa grabs her hand and squeezes. The gesture nearly breaks my heart.

I look up at the torches that run in a spiral around the room until they almost touch the vaulted ceiling. Even they seem less bright now, sympathetic with our plight. Still, they seem diffuse and too bright for comfort, thought most of that is the headache slowly building up again as the adrenaline ebbs from my muscles. Not for the first time, I wonder if the Godtouched are watching us now, and know that they must. There’s no one else to watch. We’re the last ones. The victors.

I distract myself by focusing on the murals. They continue as before, excluding many guildspeople until only three remain. Valkas is one of them, his own regal image painted two or three times taller than the original. Trugnar, the half-giant, is another, his rippling muscles in obvious display. The third individual I don’t recognize. He’s an elf with blonde hair and dressed in purple ropes.

How do I not recognize him? I think dumbly.

As I’m staring up, silently cradling Rev’s head on my lap, something changes with the light. I’m not imagining things, it’s really become darker now. A torch just went out, the one closest to the ceiling. I keep watch, and, sure enough, the next in line winks out.

Ah. The festivities are over.

“They’re snuffing out the lights,” I say. “You two should go.”

Essa looks at me with sad, intense eyes. Then she nods, stands, and searches Joro’s pockets. It doesn’t take her long to find the Ruby Key. As she approaches the Golden Door, Rev gives the tiniest, shallowest of pained breaths, so faint that I feel it at my fingertips more than I hear it. And then an idea strikes me. It’s a gambit.

“Wait.”

Essa stops, watching me with some wariness.

“Let me have the ruby.” I fish in my pocket and produce the emerald. “Take this instead. The rope to the Silver Door is still there.”

To my surprise, Essa closes her hand around the gem. Her face is hard as she bends down, takes the hilt of her sword in two fingers, and sheathes it with some difficulty.

“Essa?”

“I brought down half the dungeon to get this key, Malco.” Her expression is solemn, her voice steady. “Ever since I saw this door, I’ve been planning for when I would get it open. All that time, I thought Rev would be by my side when I did. Since that’s no longer possible, I will cross it in her name.

My heart picks up again. Now that I’m in the grip of my idea, when everything seems possible again, I can’t believe Essa is the one standing in the way.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Essa,” I say slowly. “I have a plan. I think we can save Rev.”

She looks at me surprised, and then at the Golden Door. A glimmer of understand crosses her expression. Her mouth opens a little in disbelief.

“You… you want to put her through the door?” She watches my face, looking for any sign of denial. “That’s…” and then her expression turns to a scowl. “That’s disgusting. You want to send her through to whatever sadistic machination they have waiting on the other side and waste the victory she won for us?”

“We don’t know what’s—”

“You’re spitting on her sacrifice, Malco. Dooming both her and one of us. And I won’t let you.”

My blood boils at her accusations. I feel flush, my vision swirling as I stand. I look to Hilde for support. There is none.

“Malco…” she says.

“No.”

“She’s right. I know what you’re thinking, but you’re only going to get yourself killed when you could have lived for her instead.”

I don’t know what to say. How can they… How dare they…

“I’ll get you to the Ebony Door, Malco,” she says. “Let her go. Both of them.”

The heat in my skin. The spreading sickness. I can’t get a single word out. Essa moves to the streaming light of the pedestal, ruby in hand. I stumble towards her, but there’s nothing I can do. I’m too far. Too weak.

Essa presses the ruby into the slot, and that moment I see the light coming off the pedestal is different. Muted. The ruby fits the slot, but as Essa goes to drop it, she finds resistance. There’s a nearly completely translucent barrier stopping the key from making it all the way in. Essa curses and forces the ruby down. With every shove it sinks into the slot, but as the pressure releases the ruby is thrown back out with a hum.

“Rue?” I ask.

The buzz comes from a thing coating spread over the entire top of the pedestal, securely fastened to the single leg by means of hundreds of little tendrils that wrap around it and squeeze. Whatever he’s saying, I can’t make it out. The hum is too high pitched.

“Tell it to stop,” Essa orders.

I stare at her, mute. She pulls out her sword and raises it over the pedestal in a threatening stance, but I give nothing away that she could mistake for acceptance. Essa’s face is hard, her stance unrelenting. She isn’t making empty threats.

With a yell, the sword comes down in a series of quick raps with the flat of the blade. Each slap only makes Rue vibrate all the more, his tone varying between resolute and mocking to my ears.

“Tell it to let go! Tell it!” Essa’s words turn to shouts as she slices at Rue with the edge, then tries to saw him off, and then just slams, again and again, to no effect.

“It’s mine,” I say. I keep my voice strong, my meaning clear. “Take the emerald and go.”

Hilde turns from me to the ceiling above. The lights surrounding us continue to wink out one at a time. Half the room seems thrust into shadows now, and Essa’s shouts sink into the darkness, echoing down the empty corridors.

“Essa, please,” Hilde says. “It won’t do any good.”

The hammering stops. Breathing raggedly and sweating, gasping at intervals and with tears streaming down her face, Essa turns to me and raises her sword. Even with only one good arm she has no trouble getting the swordtip to my throat, pressing it against my skin.

“Tell it to release it.”

“Rue, hold tighter. Don’t release, even if she kills me.”

The buzz increases by way of answer. Essa holds her sword in place, ignoring Hilde’s alarm, even thrusting it further in. There’s nothing to be read in her expression. Even the rage has been subdued under the power of her determination, her self-control. I see it in her eyes: if she kills me it will be because my death would serve a better purpose than my life. Perhaps this is the same expression Hilde looked up at before she was left to die. Another torch goes out, noticeably accentuating the gloom.

I see the smallest of cracks course through Essa’s face. The trembling makes it all the way through her sword and to my neck, where I feel a quick flare of pain. I touch a spot just under the blade and my fingers come up marked with blood. Her eyes flicker to Rev, who is so still that for a moment I feel the worst. But then she breathes in, slowly.

Essa drops her sword. She keeps staring at Rev while I step back, and then focuses her eyes on me. They’re filled with hate.

“You aren’t worthy of her,” she says, and tosses the ruby to my feet.

“I know.”

I pick the gem up and toss her the emerald. As soon as she catches it, Essa kneels next to my sister and touches her forehead. Her hand lingers almost timidly, so much that me and Hilde turn away and focus on each other. Despite everything, a smile creeps up my face. Hilde will make it to the end.

“I should thank you,” I say.

Before I can continue, she raises her hand.

“I did what I could, and it was precious little. We both know it wasn’t due to me that I made it this far.” Her silence lingers a moment before she continues. “I’ve never met anyone as determined as the two of you,” she says, nodding to Essa’s back. “Perhaps that’s what’s necessary to beat the Challenge. I know it that if I make it out of here alive today, it will be due to the courage and resolve of better people than I, and that is something I will never forget.”

“Hilde, I—”

“I don’t deny that I did my best, which is all that can be asked of anyone. All that I deny is that my best was sufficient.”

We remain in silence. Hilde seems to be struggling with herself, biting down words and searching for better ones.

“Please come with us,” she says suddenly. Between her dirty gold hair and her braided beard, her expression is scrunched up in worry. “Please. I will never forgive myself for leaving you. You’re doing the wrong thing, and anyone would agree. Your sister first among them.”

I try to answer, but when I open my mouth I find no sound comes out. Though I’m loath to say it, my vision is very strange now. I keep glimpsing someone from the corner of my eyes, but when I turn a little they’re gone and only an expanse of sand remains. I just shake my head one last time and hope that that’s answer enough for Hilde.

Behind me, Essa stands, done with her goodbyes. She picks up her sword and, without another word, marches out of the arena, head held high, too quick for us to see her face.

“Go with her,” I tell Hilde.

She hesitates, like I knew she would.

“Please,” we say it both at the same time.

Little smiles come out unbidden, hers mirroring mine. We hug, carefully, gently, my bad hand extended far behind Hilde’s back, the other arm wrapped around her. When we let go, I’m glad to see I’m not the only one with tears in his eyes.

And then Hilde’s gone, her feet skipping across the sand as she runs after Essa. In a few moments, I’m alone.

I don’t waste time. Not because I trust Essa, but because I know the fever is getting worse, I’m getting drowsier, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold on to consciousness. I grab Reva under her arms and drag her through the bloodied sand around the drake and set her in front of the Golden Door.

Rue has disentangled himself from the pedestal and now buzzes softly on it, his surface reflecting the increasing gloom.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “If it weren’t for you…”

He buzzes a single deep note, interrupting.

“I think… I think that if it weren’t for me, maybe you’d make it out of here. But somehow you think that would be a bad thing. Do you not like the outside?”

His puzzlement is off-putting.

“I like it fine, Rue. I wish I could see it again before… Well.”

I slot the ruby in the pedestal and immediately a dark red contour spreads between the Door and its frame. The Door, lifted by the drake along with pedestal and base, is askew, and I have to kick sand out of the way before I manage to get it all the way open.

The vortex, ruby red with flashes of a deeper, bloodier color, beckons. It tugs at my clothes, making them flutter in the sudden breeze.

Reva mutters. I nearly jump to her, crouching close to her troubled face, her brow creased in pain. The burn along her jaw left a pinkish scar even after the magic treatment. She isn’t completely conscious, drifting between here and some other nightmare land, but still I hold her and talk to her. I tell her she has to live to see Reach again. That we’re going home, and she has to get better to see everyone.

I stand. Before grabbing Rev again, I look at Rue.

“Go on,” I say. “I don’t know if it will work, but get on her. It’s your way out.”

This time, the answer is a series of notes, the closest to music that I’ve ever heard Rue produce. It’s sad, and sweet, and it means no in the gentlest of ways.

I’m too exhausted to insist. Instead, I hook my arms under Rev and, with a final, ungraceful goodbye, push her through the portal. It swallows its charge immediately, and then itself, blinking out of existence.

After it’s gone, the room truly feels thrown in darkness.