Page 94 of Honour Bound
‘I wouldn’t worry about it. You’re the only Chieftain competing so it stands to reason that you’ll beat everyone else. Besides, I caught a whisper that the number of competitors is about to dwindle even more.’
I frowned but he merely smiled and pointed to the front. Byron was studiously avoiding looking in my direction; his focus was fixed on the Carnegie official who’d just appeared from the tunnel.
‘Clan competitors!’ the official called.
It was difficult to hear him over the hubbub and he wasn’t throwing his voice. Byron held up a hand and everyone fell silent. I bit down the temptation to start chattering loudly to Angus, not because I wanted to annoy Byron but because the naughty child inside me would do almost anything to get his attention. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t a lovesick teenager; hell, I’d never been like this even when Iwasa teenager. I hated myself ? but I still wished he’d look at me.
‘To make the final round as fair and interesting as possible,’ the Carnegie official intoned, ‘we are going to weed out the chaff. Only the leading competitor from each Clan will be allowed to compete in the Acumen challenge.’
My brow furrowed. ‘Did he really just call almost fifty Sidhe nobles chaff?’ I murmured to Angus. ‘That’s brave.’
There were a lot of grumbles and hissed complaints. A lot of people were extremely annoyed and I didn’t blame them. If these Games were all about the honour of competing against your peers, a lot of Sidhe had effectively been tossed into disrepute.
The Carnegie official was oblivious. ‘Unless you are the sole Clan representative, you must leave the area,’ he said, without a trace of emotion.
I shook my head. They just didn’t get it. They harped on and on about honour and how important it was, and in the next breath they made it clear that unless you were in with a chance of winning, you might as well not participate. I was surprised that they didn’t chuck out everyone apart from me, Tipsania and Byron but perhaps that would be step too far even for this lot.
The discarded competitors filed out. When Jamie passed me, he raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Good luck.’
That was nice of him. Obviously, Byron hadn’t shared his insights about me with the rest of his Clan. Unfortunately Jamie’s friendly overtures were followed by one of the Scrymgeour competitors hissing something about wanting to see my entrails pulled out.
When the tent was empty, and there were only twenty-five of us left, the Carnegie Sidhe spoke again. ‘There are only three competitors whose accrued points put them in a position to win. If the rest of you want to drop out, go ahead. This is a short challenge and it won’t be long before we have our winner.’ No one moved. He shrugged as if we were all idiots and continued. ‘You will each take a number from this bag. The number you take corresponds to your assigned door. When the klaxon sounds, you will go through it. Your goal is to find the red button and push it.’ He stared at us. ‘Simple, really.’
‘I doubt that,’ Angus whispered. ‘We know there’s going to be one giant spider to contend with at least.’
And then some. I took my place in the queue, eventually pulling out a small plastic disk with the number thirteen etched onto it. Unlucky for some. We arranged ourselves in numerical order and I was none too pleased to see that Tipsania had drawn number fourteen. As we filed out onto the field, she trod on my heel. ‘Oops,’ she simpered. ‘Sorry.’
I turned to look at her. ‘Why are you doing this?’ I asked her. ‘Why are you being a bully?’
She snarled, ‘Your very existence is an affront to all that the Sidhe stand for.’ Her words dripped with vile condescension but, for the first time, I saw something behind her eyes that suggested she lacked conviction. Or maybe I was just softening towards her.
We heard the roar of the crowd long before we saw them. The grandstand was filled to capacity. There were a lot of makeshift placards proclaiming support for the competitors and I was shocked to see a few Sidhe from other Clans holding signs up for me. That was unexpected – and probably dangerous for them. Maybe people liked to show that they’d backed the winner; my odds, which had been three hundred to one before the Artistry challenge, now placed me as favourite. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that my efforts were being acknowledged or to worry about the target that was now placed on my back.
I took my place in front of my assigned door. The field was almost covered with walls of smoky black glass – the ones that I’d seen stacked in the pallets aboard the Carnegie ship. I had visions of a crazy arena inside where we’d be forced to fight each other to the death like some bloody, warped Battle Royale. I clenched my hands. If that was the case then I was pretty much screwed.
The countdown started and Campbell Carnegie’s dulcet tones came over the loudspeaker. I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet. If I had to make a run for it then I would.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
The klaxon screamed and a heartbeat later all the doors swung open, revealing nothing but darkness within. Without looking at anyone, I stepped in. I was going to win these Games and I wanted all those Sidhe who’d spat on my father’s grave to see me do it.
I ran forward – but not into an arena. The narrow corridor lined with more of the dark glass showed that this was some kind of maze. Heart pounding with anticipation, I took the first turning to the left. The key to successfully negotiating mazes was to be consistent. Left, left and left again. When I hit the first dead end, I spun back round, almost colliding with a wide-eyed Blair Sidhe who backed away from me. I ignored him and pushed past.
After about five minutes I started to realise what an immense structure this maze was. The consistent turning and reaching dead ends then spinning back around again was more tiring than I thought it could be. Rather than continue at a pace I couldn’t maintain, I slowed slightly. I’d need some energy for whatever was yet to come. I’d all but blocked out the crowd. I just concentrated on going forward, left, back, left, forward once more.
Then I came to a stop. At the far end of the latest turn, there wasn’t just an empty corridor. A body lay prone on the floor and, next to it, a table with two flagons and a set of identical glasses. When I got closer and saw that the body belonged to Angus, my stomach tightened in fear. I bent down to check his pulse, nausea rising in my stomach. If he’d died for the sake of this stupid challenge… I let out a sigh of relief; he was still breathing. He was out for the count and out of the running, but he was okay. There was a glass not far from his hand. I grabbed it and sniffed but whatever was inside was odourless.
I stood up. I didn’t have time to worry about him, I had to concentrate on myself.
I examined the table. Both flagons contained clear, identical-looking liquid. I sniffed each one but neither of them smelled of anything. Behind the table was another door. Apparently I had to drink from a flagon: choose the right one and the door would open; choose wrongly and I’d end up fast asleep like Angus.
