Page 101 of Trial of Bronze and Blood
He holds her gaze. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Standing alone before the empty wall and precipice of the underground maze sends bolts of anxiousness through Dru’s body.
Clenching her hands together, she waits impatiently for thearena floor to open up in the near-darkness. Only faint torchlight illuminates her surroundings. Muffled sounds of the growing crowd pierce through the movable ceiling; otherwise, she finds it to be unbearably silent. Not one of the participants speaks, a tense energy filling the room like smoke.
The gamemasters kept with tradition and announced in the barracks that they’ve allowed the participants to choose their own entry point. Which, of course, immediately put Dru on edge. They’d be naïve to think no version of a map exists somewhere, but maybe that’s exactly why they did it. Even if Dru and Marcus and Cato did manage to find a shorter path out of the maze, they could’ve come up with more difficult riddles on those paths, and worse consequences if they get them wrong.
When the three of them entered the narrow hallway stretching around the arena from the barracks, Marcus chose a spot on the opposite end, with Cato positioning himself a few entries down from him. Dru decided on one at the opposing end—not that it’ll make much of a difference once they step inside.
Despite the first trial having been a one-on-one fight, she feels more alone now. She tries not to think about the layers of hard stone cutting her off from the people she swore to protect.
A strong, muffled voice booms above them.
The crowd cheers soon after, leading to the sound of metallic clanking filling the underground room. The first rays of sunlight peek through the widening gap in the ceiling, bringing with them the jubilant cheers of the spectators. They grow so loud, Dru can barely think.
She draws in a few deep breaths, not having realized how shallow they’d become. As the ceiling continues to separate, she shakes out her shoulders and arms, readying herself for what she knows how to do best: survive.
Finally, the ceiling halts. Given the size of the maze needed to fit all ninety-nine participants, the opening doesn’t reach all the way across, leaving her and her fellow fodder unseen by the crowd until they step inside.
Two drum beats sound.
“Participants,” Venatus Magister Blaise booms. Dru squints into the sun to find him tucked safely inside the balcony high above them. “For this trial, you must answer the first riddle correctly in order for the door to your section of the maze to open. Once inside, you will face a number of riddles as well as physical challenges, all of which have been placed in the maze by myself and Gamemaster Ettore.”
The Durevolian gamemaster steps forward. “Today, you will learn that glory is about more than brawn, for knowledge is everlasting. The riddles have been chosen by us so that both Durevolian and Phaedran perspectives would be represented and provide an equal challenge for all competitors.”
He takes a beat, letting the applause die down. “The purpose of the trial is simple: live. Quickness will not benefit you. Take your time, think through your answers, keep your wits about you, and you will survive.”
A single drum beat, and Blaise’s voice returns.
“Here is the first riddle: I can run but not walk. I have sound but can’t talk. I have a bed but can’t sleep.”
I suppose they had to give us an easy one to get everyone inside their death maze.
“A river,” she tells her door, lowering her voice so the other participants nearby can’t hear her. But no one else chose to be quiet, and since the narrow hallway is like an echo chamber, the answer slings around her from every direction.
A section of the wall in front of her lowers until the sound of all the doors moving thunders, the ground rumbling slightly beneath her.
This is it.She takes a breath and steps inside.
On the gamemaster’s suggestion, she doesn’t run in like the other competitors on either side of her. She refuses to panic, evenwhen the door settles back into place behind her with a groan, shutting her in between carved stone walls.
The dirt path before her narrows, and she pulls in her shoulders, nervous there won’t be much room to defend herself against the physical challenges.At least the top of the maze is open.Although it’s only so the spectators above them can watch them like rats in the sewers, cheering for their demise.
The sun beats down on her neck and arms, and dirt clings to her legs. She wipes away the dampness on her forehead born from nerves and the heat of the sun, and steps further in. Gravel scuffs beneath her sandals as she grips the hilt of the dagger at her hip. Silences presses in on her, almost worse than the heat and certainly more suffocating.
The wall in front of her forces her to the left. A few more feet, and she’s faced with another turn, anxious to meet her first challenge.
She tries to shut out the sounds around her but can’t. A woman screams from across the maze, while the sound of squelching and gurgling pierces her ears from the other side of the wall. Pausing, she finds blood leaking through the sand beneath the stone in crimson rivulets.
Swallowing, all she can do is hope it doesn’t belong to Marcus or Cato and move on.
Another turn, and she comes face-to-face with a strange man. He wears a long beige tunic, his dark hair shaved down to his skull. Scrutinizing his form, he doesn’t appear to have a weapon on him—but neither did the man who attacked Cato in the first trial. And she can’t risk being wrong in this.Either I’m going to have to fight him or answer another riddle. I can handle both.
Sucking in a breath, she prepares herself for the first challenge the maze has set forth for her.
His voice grates when he speaks. “I have a spine but no bones.”
Riddle it is, then. She relaxes the grip on her dagger, remembering not to rush.
