Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Gerald had promised I could “speak with” Jasher afterward. A conversation that would hopefully occur while everyone else celebrated his victory. Their distraction, our gain. I could sneak him out then. Maybe. Hopefully. With the cuffs on his wrists, he’d have to cooperate.
If only I had access to my ring-power, allowing me to summon the golden armor and the accompanying sword of fire.
Though I’d failed before, I lifted my hand, willing my mother’s beloved ring to appear. Unlike my first visit to Hakeldama, there was no mark, shadow, or shimmer beneath my skin. My shoulders rolled in. We were on our own.
The women urged me to stand. My legs shook from nerves or hunger or both. Together, the group led me into the night. And there was Cluck Cluck, out of the crate and tethered with a rope. She perched in the dirt and opened her mouth, squawking, but the cold wind snatched the sound of her voice.
My poor, darling chicken. If I could have, I would’ve marched over and saved her from gracing the menu.
Had I ever eaten chicken? Yes. Would I again? Yes. But this was the brave, resilient Cluck Cluck. Shouldn’t she love her life before she lost it?
A young girl, maybe ten years old, strolled by as we moved forward. I did a double take. Iris, no doubt about it. She was pink from head to toe. Same face, just two decades younger.
My hands curled into fists. “Tell your mom betrayal comes with a cost,” I called.
She craned her neck, stuck out her tongue, then raced off laughing. Carefree, she twirled as she disappeared in the forest.
I worked my jaw as my escorts urged me onward. Winter pressed close, sharp and merciless, but my new clothes kept me warm. A thick blanket of shadows draped the village, and those, too, seemed to watch me. Fire pits hissed and spit and painted the array of homes in flickers of gold and red. The air smelled of smoke, pine sap, and metal.
In the distance, chants of “kill the monstra” rose and broke like waves against a shore. Had the fight already started?
I quickened my pace. By the time we reached a torchlit clearing with a makeshift coliseum, I was ready to come out of my skin.
Relief washed over me when I saw the arena. No fight yet. Gerald perched atop a dais with Thomas, the two talking between swigs of what might be ale. Women with pots dished the thick liquid to waiting spectators. Spirits were high and only escalating as I made my way up the steps to join the leader and his son. Every smile of hope dropped another hundred pounds of weight on my shoulders.
“Good. She’s here,” Gerald called, patting the empty spot on his left.
I spotted a small, clear vial hanging from his neck. Inside it, a single, crystal grain bounced with his movements. A grain I recognized. Serpens-rosa. Extremely difficult to obtain.
Excitement sparked in me. Must have it.
He noticed my noticing and hurried to tuck the vial beneath his shirt. Out of sight, but not out of my mind.
“Bring out the beasts!” he commanded as I eased down.
Cheers resounded, a wild clang of thunder echoing through the coliseum. I gripped my knees to steady myself as the stands trembled. Then, two massive doors yawned open below, one north, one south. Once again, tension swept me into its current.
From the north burst the monstra, a nightmare made flesh. A grotesque fusion of fur and scale, its hide mottled, its crimson eyes glittering with unfiltered rage. Too many fangs to count crowded its elongated snout, each tooth dripping with drool that hissed when it struck the sand. Gnarled wings snapped open with a sound like tearing metal, the tips sharp enough to shred air itself.
A chain leash snapped taut, preventing it from traveling too far. It roared, then sprayed fire, drenching half of the arena in a haze of smoke and burning grit.
My palms slicked with sweat.
From the southern cubby, Jasher emerged. He didn’t run, just strolled into the inferno as though bored, his axes loose in his hands. The shackles still circled his wrists, but the connecting chain had been severed, as promised.
The cheers came again, deafening. When the monstra sighted him, it stilled. The crowd went silent. I stilled, even my heartbeat.
Jasher didn’t break stride. He stopped close enough for the monstra’s breath to stir his hair. As the creature sniffed him, Jasher dropped one axe into the dirt.
Gasps rippled through the throng.
“Kill it!” young Thomas bellowed, pumping his fist.
“Kill it!” his father echoed, and soon the chant rolled through the stands. “Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!”
I pressed a trembling hand to my twisting stomach. If Jasher refused to fight… if the beast refused to fight… if they chose each other…
Gerald would have his men kill Jasher. Unlike his brethren, he was only half-shifted. He wasn’t indestructible.