Page 109 of Frost Like Night
He tossed the torch to the ground, the flame flaring up as it clattered on the stone, but the light held. He didn’t think about it extinguishing; he didn’t think about much of anything beyond the frustration of these halls, the darkness stretching ever onward, the walls pressing around in stances that seemed almost mocking. Could walls mock him?Thesewalls could, and as Mather attacked the oneclosest to him, he swore he could hear it laughing.
His dagger chipped furiously at the stone, carving a rudimentary foothold. And another, slightly higher; still another, and another, until Mather had to lift himself up onto the first ones to carve more. Slowly he carved his way up, chipping rock in a flurry of projectiles.
Mather jammed his dagger into the wall about an arm’s length from the top. One more foothold, and he’d be able to stand atop it and see this maze—at least as far as his light would show.
But as Mather wrestled to pull another chunk of rock free, the wall . . .trembled.
He stiffened, legs braced in his crude footholds, both his hands wrapped around the dagger embedded in the wall. A second shudder ran up the stone, this one more deliberate, and without further warning, every foothold Mather had carved vanished.
He scrambled against the now-smooth wall, only his knife remaining as support. But even that failed him as the wall seemed to eject it like an arrow from a bow. Mather dropped, his body bumping against the stone as he slid down at least twice his height before collapsing with a thud—
On his torch.
The light snuffed out beneath him, encasing the maze in darkness.
Mather had thought he understood darkness. The timethey’d spent in the Rania Plains had given new meaning to the word, when moonless nights would fall and their fires would go out. Storm clouds rolled in sometimes, casting gray hues to the blackness, and Mather remembered standing at the edge of camp, petrified, but forcing himself to endure the slithering feeling of being blind yet surrounded. Enemies could be right before his eyes but he, lost, disoriented, was unable to see them no matter how hard he strained.
That was what he feared most: being unable to perceive danger even if it was right before his eyes.
Like with Meira.
Mather leaped to his feet, fresh blades in both hands, ears straining to compensate for his lack of sight. Thoughts of her fueled his drive, urging him into a frenzy.
Yes, like with Meira. Like how, even as he lay next to her at night, even as he kissed her and touched her and had herright beside him, he couldn’t see what danger possessed her. He couldn’t protect her.
He couldn’t protect her.
Mather slashed out at nothing.
“Damn it!” he screamed when he slammed into a wall, the stone tearing into his shoulder. “DAMN IT!”
He spun, stabbing, sweat pouring in waves down his body.
If he didn’t get out of here, he wouldn’t be able to protect her. She’d go on with William to the next test, andafter that, William would let her die. She’d walk into whatever end she had planned, one Mather couldn’t see, an enemy crouched in darkness and stealth, waiting with eager, unforgiving hands to destroy the best part of his life.
“No!” One of Mather’s blades caught the wall and twisted out of his hand, clattering into the darkness. His muscles ached, his throat burned with thirst, and he slumped against the wall, forehead to the dusty stone.
No. She wouldn’t die.She wouldn’t die.He would save her. He would get out of here—damn it,he would get out of here—
Mather dropped to the ground, knees banging on the floor. He’d never felt this helpless, not even when Herod had captured Meira. Something about this place, this darkness, the looming threat of losing her, made every fear and doubt and hatred rear in his heart. Every bone in his body ached, and he caved forward, wanting to lash out, wanting to dissolve.
“You aren’t the most humble man I know”came a voice.
Mather exhaled, dust puffing in a cloud that coated his face.
“This is a test of humility. You aren’t the most humble man I know.”
“Meira!” He launched to his feet, stumbling forward. “Meir—”
He stopped. It wasn’t her—she had said that to him before they’d parted.
Mather gulped breaths to calm himself. Was he hallucinating?
A test of humility. The tests had been designed to ensure that only those who were worthy reached the magic chasm. And humility meant being able to acknowledge your own unworthiness and admit things like . . . defeat.
Mather’s instinctual reaction to that was a rumblingNever. It went against everything he had ever been to admit that he couldn’t do something, especially when that thing involved Meira. No—he’d figure out a way. He’d get out of this.He’d save her.
Mather dropped to his knees again, hands open and empty on his thighs.
