Chapter Sixty-Two

B riony

Lightning streaks across the sky above me and thunder roars. The air is icy cold and I hug my arms around me and consider my surroundings. Immediately, I recognize this trial for what it is.

A maze. It’s a maze. I laugh out loud. I can’t believe it; Clare was right.

I mean, I’m sure it won’t be as easy as a straightforward maze. I’m sure they’ll have thrown in a bunch of other challenges along the way, but if I follow Clare’s rule, then maybe – just maybe – there’s a chance I might actually complete this trial. Or at least complete it enough to earn some points.

Straight in front of me, a tall wall of sharp brambles blocks my path, leaving me with the option of turning left or right. I go with the left, keeping my hand hovering along the surface of the thorns as I run along paths, swerve around corners and meet dead-ends. I know this method through the maze is time consuming so I need to be quick about it, especially as I’m forced to double back on myself several times, but I’m sure I’m drawing closer to the center of the maze – I’m sure I can feel it.

Of course, I should know better. Life doesn’t work that way for a girl from Slate Quarter. Whenever you think you’re on to a good thing, it’s snatched away. As soon as you rise, you fall. As soon as you feel just a teensy bit confident, the realm shows you exactly why you shouldn’t be.

Because blocking my path is the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. It’s as big as a bear and covered in mangy fur, scabs on its legs and its back. Spit drools from its open jaws and its eyes wild and frantic.

It spots me, draws back its cracked lips and growls, showcasing rows and rows of sharp teeth.

I don’t think this is going to be a situation like Dray’s wolf. I don’t think I’ll be charming this dog-like creature and making a new friend. For the briefest of moments, I stare at the creature, and terror and panic overtake me, making my body shake and bile rise up in my throat. Then I pull myself together and run.

I have two legs. The dog has four. But it doesn’t look healthy and I am fast. It’s possibly the only thing I have going for me. And so I run as fast as I can, driving my legs and my arms forward with all my might, swerving and diving round corners, trying to make my path random in the hope I’ll lose the creature.

Behind me I hear the thunder of its paws on the hard ground and its panted breath. It’s right behind me, chasing me as I take a hard right, and then two lefts.

It’s going to catch me. I know it’s inevitable and I try to form a plan as I run.

Do I wrap myself up into a ball, protect my head and my face and wait for the trial masters to save me – hoping I still have a throat left by the time they fish me out of this maze? Or do I attempt to fight the beast off, hold it at bay with my hands and my feet as best I can?

Neither option seems great. Both will involve me losing large chunks of flesh.

I keep running, searching the ground for some kind of weapon as I do, the paws still thundering, the beast still coming, and then, suddenly, a shriek of pain, followed by a whimper. The thumping paws stop.

I don’t hang about to find out what the hell just happened. Perhaps the beast stumbled, perhaps it tripped. If it did, this is my chance to get away.

I sprint haphazardly through the maze, left and right, right and left, running and running, until I hear nothing but my own feet and my own breath.

I’ve lost it. I’m sure I’ve lost it.

I hunch over my knees, bile sloshing in my stomach and my throat, my lungs burning and my heart hammering. I close my eyes and try to catch my breath.

I’m okay.

I. Am. Okay.

All right, I may have lost my bearings, I may be lost completely, but I’m alive; I’m uninjured. There was no real chance I was going to complete this maze anyway. Maybe I’m better off concentrating on staying safe, running down the clock and coming away unscathed. I’m sure I’ll earn a few points from the progress I made. It’s better than dying.

Only, the maze has other ideas. It obviously doesn’t want me waiting in one place. It wants me moving. I only notice when something sharp scrapes against my arm. I cry out and find the brambles from the walls of the maze curling onto the pathway, curling towards me.

I squeal, jumping out of the way, as a limb covered in long sharp thorns swings dangerously close to my face. I back away from the brambles, only to find the path behind me also blocked.

Shit! Why the hell did I think not moving would be a good idea?

Hardly entertaining for the spectators watching us as we make our way through this trial.

I peer through the brambles in front of me, searching for a way through, and then turn and do the same in the other direction. The brambles are moving too quickly, already blocking both directions; soon they’ll envelop me completely. I have a choice to make. Start moving or be strangled to death by these murderous plants. I grit my teeth and, with my arms over my head in a bid to protect my face, I plow straight ahead.

I try to duck and dive through the moving brambles. But it’s hopeless, they are too dense, and I scream as my flesh is torn to pieces. The pain is awful, but I’m used to that. It isn’t new. I search for that place I can go to for escape, I try to disassociate from my mind. I keep moving.

A bramble catches me by the ankle, coiling around my leg, and then another catches my arm, another tightening around my middle.

I struggle as best I can, trying to pull the brambles away with my hands even as the thorns sink into the sensitive flesh of my palms. But then one catches me by the throat and I know this is the end.

I close my eyes and wait for the trial masters to save me, hoping with every bone in my body that they do.