Dawning Ceremony (Sexcraft Chronicles Book 3) Page 11

  Hal should have been mad at the Event Master, or at least the culture of the Upper Realm, for encouraging such a barbaric event. He was, but not to an extent that would ruin his instincts, and make him unable to do what needed to be done.

  He wondered if Cadrian would be watching through whatever means the elves had of projecting the stream of his view crystal. It made him feel a little excited, as though all the hate and fury he had stored up for her wouldn’t have to go to waste. She would see what he was capable of in his anger. She would get a preview of what he had in store for her.

  “On the carriage wall behind you, there is a cloud catch.” The Event Master’s voice boomed through an odd, spongey crystal hanging from the carriage’s ceiling. “Hook the cloud catch to your harness and jump out whenever you please. It would be best to wait until the dragon is fully over the island, but a few cowards take their chances with the ocean each year.”

  Hal reached behind him and found what the Event Master was talking about. It looked a bit like a closed parasol, except with no wooden struts to hold its shape. He thought about what would happen if he leapt from the dragon with it attached to his back, and the only thing that kept him from being completely skeptical was his trust in the Event Master’s desire to see his vicious game being played.

  The dragon had taken off from the Upper Realm, gliding more than flying down to an island far below, surrounded in all directions by the endless ocean. It was just a speck compared to the Krestia’s Cradle or the Upper Realm, no more than ten miles across, but almost perfectly circular. The dragon slowed as they began to pass over it, and the guard in the carriage with them slid the side door open.

  The view was both breath taking and terrifying. He’d been up high before, and he’d been on a dragon before, but this was different. It was a struggle to gather the courage to trust that his “cloud catch” would do its job. He hadn’t known that the contraptions were something that existed ten minutes earlier.

  “I wouldn’t wait too long,” said the slave with the neck tattoos. “The center of the island is a dangerous place to be.”

  Most of the other slaves looked away from him. Hal didn’t.

  “You sound like you know what you’re doing,” he said. “Any advice?”

  “Don’t trust anybody, though that’s obvious,” said the tattooed man. “Also, pay attention to lighting conditions when you’re indoors. They’ve set up crystal torches and view crystals for some of the more interesting traps, so they have multiple angles of the fools who stumble into them.”

  “Got it,” said Hal. “Thanks.”

  The tattooed man nodded, and then grinned. He already had his cloud catch on, and he made a show of stepping out of the dragon carriage. The catch pulled open almost as soon as he picked up speed, instantly arresting his drop. It spread outward, revealing the number “17” painted onto its center.

  CHAPTER 21

  Few of the other slaves in the dragon carriage seemed as eager as 17 had been. Hal could see the other dragons carrying in participants also circling around the island, cloud catches occasionally opening up underneath them as more participants made the leap of faith.

  He took up a position at the edge of the cloud carriage, squinting down at the land below and trying to make out important details. It was just before dawn, horrible lighting conditions for spotting anything significant across the landscape. He thought he could see a couple of buildings, but they might have just been patches of dirt.

  It doesn’t matter what’s down there. What matters is me jumping early, so I have time to look around.

  “Other people are waiting to jump, if you don’t have the guts.” The curly haired girl who’d been sitting next to him earlier spoke almost directly into his ear, startling him.

  “I’m going,” said Hal. “I guess I’ll see you down there.”

  He smiled, letting his eyes run over all the slaves left in the carriage. He would do whatever it took to survive the next couple of hours. He could tell many of them hadn’t reached that same level of resolve, and it made him feel confident.

  The wind rushed against Hal’s face and hair as he stood at the edge of the door. He took a deep breath, feeling his stomach flutter, along with the rush of vertigo. His hands tensed against the frame of the carriage, trying to hold him safe and inside even as his mind gave the order to step out and get the jump over with.

  He thought of Cadrian, and how many more difficult, unpleasant steps it would take for him to reach her and fulfill his revenge. It gave him the extra ounce of determination he needed. Hal jumped out of the carriage, flying a good ten feet out from the dragon before his cloud catch opened up.

  It was jerkier than he’d expected. Hal’s crystal harness pulled at his rib cage and stomach as the catch caught on the air, knocking the wind out of him. He was still falling, but at a much more manageable rate. He could see the ground slowly coming up underneath him, and the dragon disappearing into the distance.

  There were other participants flying down toward the island along with him. Hal grabbed at the cord attaching his harness to the cloud catch and twisted, trying to orient himself toward a less populated region of the island. He shifted his direction as much as he could, angling his fall toward one of the pristine, beautiful beaches.

  It was a slow, almost relaxing descent. Most of the island was covered in thick jungle foliage, outside of the center, where all plants and trees had been cleared, and a large, metal arena had been constructed.

  He could see now that there were buildings, most of the ones that he could see clustered in small villages of no more than a dozen houses. The architecture was different from anything he’d seen the elves build, crude and basic, and it suggested to Hal that the island had been appropriated from its original residents.

  He touched down on the beach, his legs hitting harder than he’d expected and not quite absorbing enough of the landing to keep him from tripping into a roll. Hal pulled the hook of the cloud catch loose from his harness and took a look at the number on the back of it.

  57. I’m number 57.

  He started to head off the beach and into the jungle, but then hesitated. It didn’t seem like good strategy to leave his cloud catch behind, not if there was anyone looking to be aggressive early on. And it also might come in handy later on, if he needed something to build into a shelter.

  Hal crumpled up the strange, glossy fabric into a ball, and then stuffed it underneath a fallen log on the end of the beach. He briefly considered trying to cover his tracks before coming to the conclusion that it would be a waste of time.

  I’m already wasting time by standing here. I need to move!

  He took off into the jungle at a run, weighing the advantages of moving fast against moving stealthy. It would make sense, eventually, to slow down and try to sneak up on the other participants. The Event Master had said that the event would run for at least two days, which meant that people would eventually need to sleep.

  But at that moment, at the very start, Hal knew that what he needed to be doing was looking for an advantage. The Event Master had said that there was already food, weapons, and other supplies waiting for them on the island. Hal suspected that much of the event would come down to who ended up with the biggest sword, or the longest spear.

  And there might be crystals, which means magic. Maybe even gemstones.

  He spotted a building ahead of him. It looked more like a storage hut than a place where someone might have lived, tucked in the middle of a clearing that might once have been a small farm. There was no door or cloth covering hanging over the entrance, and Hal could see a single wooden chest sitting in plain sight on the floor within.

  Grabbing a fallen branch off the ground next to him, he slowly approached the hut. He wasn’t about to charge in and attempt to open the chest without considering that it might, or rather, probably was a trap.

  Hal stopped short of the hut’s doorway and extended the branch. He gave the chest a firm push with the end of
it, and almost yelped with surprise as the hut burst into flames. He glanced around, looking to see if any other slaves had been watching.

  The fire burned for several minutes. Hal waited in the jungle, judging it too dangerous to be near the smoke and light emitted by the fire, announcing the location to anyone curious enough to investigate. He found a rock on the ground that fit his hand, and waited behind a bush.

  A slave burst out of the jungle nearby, running full speed toward the hut. He was tall, with curly black hair and dark skin. He held a bow in his hands, and had a quiver of arrows strewn across his back.

  Hal’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched the slave investigating the sight of the fire. It felt unfair, and made him almost want to force a confrontation. He’d found the hut. He’d been the one who’d triggered the trap. The chest inside should belong to him.

  And as would have it, the dark-skinned slave didn’t seem to notice that there was anything of value inside the burned, collapsed structure. He gave it the barest glances before scanning the nearby jungle and moving on. Hal let out a sigh of relief. He waited for only another minute before rushing out to the chest, brushing still smoldering bits of wood back to drag it loose from the fire.

  There was no lock, and it opened easily. Inside, Hal found a curved knife, almost the size of his old short sword. It was double-edged, with the bottom inch or so of the inside of the curve serrated. It would help if he needed to cut through wood, at some point. He tested the blade against his finger and confirmed that it was as sharp as it looked.

  There was also a loaf of bread in the chest. It was surprisingly fresh. Hal took a bite out of it and swallowed before stopping to consider that it might be poisoned. He winced at his own stupidity.

  I’ll just have to hope it wasn’t.

  Hal took off into the jungle, deciding on a basic strategy for exploring the island. If he kept near the beach but stayed within the dense foliage, he could circle around the island out of sight with the knowledge that there was one direction where he couldn’t be surprised by an enemy.

  It would also let him explore the section of the island that would be the first to be closed off in six hours’ time. He wasn’t thinking that far ahead yet, but it made sense. Which worried him a little. If he’d thought of it, surely others had, as well.

  As much as Hal wanted to move as fast as he could through the jungle, he forced himself to pace his travel. He’d move quickly and quietly across a hundred feet or so before taking cover, listening to the surrounding area, and plotting his next path forward.

  For close to an hour, he didn’t come across anyone or anything else of interest. He found a small tribal hut that had already been looted. There was a severed hand outside of it that told a story of its own and encouraged Hal not to stick around longer than he needed to.

  He continued along his beachside route for a while longer, slowly realizing that he was gaining on someone. He could hear the sounds of breaking branches and ruffled leaves ahead of him. He was gaining on someone, and they had no idea that he was coming.

  Hal kept his pace even, resisting the urge to break into a sprint and run whoever it was down. The sun had risen fully above the horizon, but the jungle was still dark and full of shadows. He could surprise whoever it was. It was such a primal impulse. He could kill whoever it was he was tracking and take whatever they had on them.

  It scared him a little to consider how serious and committed he was. Was this how Cadrian had felt as she rode on Aangavar’s back, descending toward his family’s estate? Hal gritted his teeth at the idea. His anger wasn’t fading, but gaining in strength, like wine fermenting in a barrel.

  CHAPTER 22

  A shout came from ahead of him, just beyond the next thick patch of trees. Hal moved forward cautiously, pressing his back to a thick tree trunk and peering around its edge. He saw an older man, grey haired and slightly overweight, hanging from one foot. A noose connected his leg to a thick tree branch above him. Hal smiled, thinking of his own experience with the island’s traps.

  The man was swearing in elvish, even the he was, by all rights, a human. Hal walked toward him slowly, watching his face contort as the man noticed him approaching. Upside down and hanging by one foot, it was hard for Hal to read his expression, though what the man was shouting left no real doubt as to where his emotions were at.

  “Please!” shouted the man. “Please don’t kill me! Please…”

  Hal cringed at pathetic tone of the man’s voice. He held his curved knife in his hand, and slowly crossed the distance to the man. He wasn’t so high off the ground top Hal from cutting his neck, if he decided to.

  “I’ll give you everything I have!” cried the man. “I’ll leave! I’ll swim out into the ocean, if you want. It’s the same thing in the end, isn’t it? Just please, don’t kill me!”

  Hal scowled and let out a sigh. He cut the rope holding the man aloft at the spot where it tied to the trunk of the tree, dropping him on his head. Hal looked the man over, and didn’t see anything on him other than the tattered rags he wore and his crystal harness. He was just an old man, it didn’t seem right to kill him in cold blood.

  This is a waste of my time…

  “Just go,” said Hal, turning his back and moving to reenter the jungle. “You’re welcome.”

  The man let out a roar, and Hal felt rope pull tight across his neck. It pinched with enough strength to make him gag, the old man’s knee pressing in between his shoulder blades and creating the perfect angle for leverage to choke someone to death.

  Hal reacted without thinking. He swung his knife up and over his shoulder. The curve of the blade was enough to let him strike the man, and even though it was an awkward swing, he felt the pressure of the rope instantly lesson.

  “Grah!” cried the man. “I… I’m sorry! I was scared, I wasn’t thinking! Please!”

  Hal brought the knife down on his face in a proper strike. Blood splattered back on him, more than he expected, but not enough to leave major stains on his shirt. The man let out a gurgle and thrashed. Hal brought the knife across his neck, opening it wide in retaliation for the rope burns he’d been given in the same place.

  He took a deep breath and wiped his knife off on the grass. He patted the man’s pockets. They were empty, and it made Hal feel a surge of anger at how pointless the man’s death had been.

  Not pointless. I killed him to survive.

  Hal let the thought echo in his head as he continued onward, back into the jungle. He was annoyed at himself for trusting the man to appreciate his mercy. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, not with his fellow participants, and not with anyone.

  The ground sloped upward as he continued forward, the jungle thinning out and giving way to grass and dirt. Ahead of him, a wall of jagged rocks ran close to the edge of the beach, leaving him with the option to take the high path along the cliffs, or to stick near the ocean.

  He chose the former option, not liking how limited his path forward would be if he stuck to the beach. He climbed up the slope, trying to keep low as he moved out into the open. There were no bushes or trees to hide behind here, and he could see a small group of huts ahead of him, built at the cliff’s edge where they could overlook the vast blue expanse of the sea.

  Hal had a strange certainty that someone was either already moving within the huts and scavenging or would arrive shortly after he did. The location was too obvious. There wasn’t much to hide behind for hundreds of feet in any direction, and it made his own jog across the scrub grass feel rushed and exposed.

  He ran faster than he probably should have, and was winded by the time he reached the first hut. It was still furnished, unlike the earlier, trapped one Hal had stumbled across. There was a bed made of wooden branches, with a leaf mattress on top of it. Hal focused his attention on the sack on the floor, which was empty outside of two apples. He took both, shoving them into his pockets, which were already overfull from the bread he’d found earlier.

  He hurr
ied to the next building, which was built in the style of a tribal longhouse. It looked like a hunting outpost, and was full of exactly the type of equipment Hal had been hoping for. There were a number of carefully crafted bows, but unfortunately, no arrows.

  There were also throwing spears, which were basically just wooden shafts with sharpened points. Hal grabbed two, not expecting to be able to carry any more than that, and carefully threaded them through the back of his crystal harness.

  A noise came from outside. Hal grabbed a third wooden spear from the wall, switching his knife into his off hand. He had zero experience with throwing weapons of any sort, but figured that the extra range the spear provided would still beat his knife in effectiveness, under most circumstances.

  A brawny slave was looting one of the other nearby huts, and hadn’t noticed him yet. Hal considered running away, but it would still leave him with a threat in the nearby area. He chewed his lip, still feeling reluctant to attack. He could drive his spear through the man’s back, and then…

  And then what? I run off. Find someone else to kill?

  A shout came from Hal’s left. He saw the slave he’d noticed earlier, the one with the bow. He had an arrow already drawn back, and was aiming it in Hal’s direction. Hal dodged to the side in time to feel the air vibrate as the projectile passed within a few inches of his head.

  He let out a roar and charged forward, closing the distance in a few long strides. He slammed the spear through the man’s abdomen with strength, rather than technique. The slave gripped at the pole ineffectively, trying to pull it loose from his stomach, even though he must have known it was too late.

  The brawny slave had noticed Hal and was hurrying toward him, wielding a long, two-handed sword. Hal didn’t have time to pull the spear free or draw one of his extras. He gripped his knife in his right hand, watching his opponent, knowing that he was at a disadvantage against a metal weapon with that kind of reach.