Bloodguard

chapter 68

Leith

I run and leap, ignoring the agony of my mounting injuries. I break open the first lock on the splintering crate. The force I must use to break the next causes me to lose my balance, and I land flat on my face. I spit out sand, looking up as three sets of long claws drag down the mostly broken door. They hover over my ass just as the colt rounds the curve.

Really?

The saws shoot up in front of my face. The only thing that saves me is that they don’t immediately rotate. Without meaning to, the engineer’s design affords me time to roll out of range before they engage. The colt races away, as freaked out by those things as I am.

I scramble upward, taking aim at the bottom lock.

My remaining strength only enables me to bend the lock. I assume a better position, but before I can act, I’m thrown out of the way when a giant lizard with three sets of legs slams its heavy body against the door.

I’m tossed toward the fire wall, because why not? I throw out a hand, catching the corner of the lizard’s crate and slowing just enough to prevent my impending death by fire. As I struggle to rise, the lizard drags herself out, tasting the air with a black forked tongue, watching the spinning saws appear and roll past.

What the hell? Am I the only thing left these discs of death want to shred? Random, my ass.

I push up on the axe and take in the scene. Talk about the Erth in flames. Fire surrounds the ring, and smoke billows upward, discoloring the clouds. Blades— sharp blades—appear from nowhere and come at me from all directions. And bonus, two deadly monsters are eyeing me as their next meal.

The colt races toward me but stops when she notices the lizard. I don’t know if she’s trying to be cute, but she scratches lightly at the sand with her hoof. And then she charges, laughing maniacally. There’s that monstrous, unhinged child I know.

The lizard tilts her head from side to side with curiosity. I’m certain she’s done for until, at the very last moment, she shoots forward and takes a chunk out of the colt’s side.

Yes!

The shrill whinny makes my ears ring. She whips her head left and right, barely grazing the lizard, whose only concern is taking another bite. And she does, throwing the colt into survival mode.

I leave them to it and search for the others.

“Gunther. Pega. Luther!” I call out. There’s one remaining crate. I can only hope they made it there.

My legs barely work, and my vision is blurry, eyes stinging from the terrible flames. Something pokes out of the sand between the first crate that exploded and the other still burning beside it. When it doesn’t come at me, I keep moving.

Until I reach the space between where the next pair of crates once stood and realize what it was.

I race back to it, unable to believe my luck.

Between the explosion and the gust of air created by the fires, there’s no more camouflaging this large device. I step carefully around the spears. It’s easy. They’re visible now. As are the springs used to launch them.

I call out again to the others.

No one answers. The only sounds that cut through the roaring fire and the next explosion are pained and hissing moans.

Fuck my life. I’ve never heard a lizard make any noise. I didn’t really think they could. But if I had to imagine what one would sound like dying, it would sound exactly like this.

I turn around. I don’t curse this time. To be honest, I think I’m all out. The colt trots toward me with half the lizard’s body dangling from one horn and the other half on the other.

That buzzing resumes just ahead.

Well, I’ve had enough.

The fires continue to burn around me. I’m hot. I’m tired. My body is destroyed, and I’m mad as shit.

This ends now.

Calling up all my remaining adrenaline, I rush in the direction of the final crate, doing my best to avoid the piles of smoldering debris. I can’t outrun the colt, and I’m in no condition to leap over the saws.

I take my chances with the blades, swerving left until I’m racing dangerously close to the fire wall. The saws don’t reach me, and they sink back into the sand. They have a limit to how far they can travel. Something helpful at last.

They can’t get too close to the fire wall.

I can’t get close enough.

Sweat sizzles against my skin, and the smoke and fire threaten to cook me alive.

I keep going, screaming through my teeth.

The colt isn’t willing to risk her hide. She’s plenty willing to risk mine.

She charges me as I run away from the fire wall and head to the spot beside the last crate, jumping over the row of spears and the spring mechanism that launches them.

I leap one last time. The colt gives chase, the weight of the lizard slowing her just enough.

As I come down, I bring my axe down with me, right onto the spring.

Too many things happen at once. The spears shoot from the ground, their recoil stronger with less sand to push through. It’s perfect, a sudden shock of noise joining the clamor of slowly grinding metal and the screams of the people who watch us.

An arm’s length away, saws bounce against each other, dinging like raindrops on a tin bucket, except much louder. A few blades snap off, spinning through the air. At least two almost cut my head off, but damn if it isn’t all worth it.

Look at that.

I guess the saws connect to the same device that controls the spears. It wasn’t my intention to destroy the machine. The crowd thinks otherwise. Fine by me. Let them think I’m just that good.

I only meant to skewer the vampire colt.

And I did.

She whinnies that piercing, evil laugh even as spears puncture her immense body. No matter—she rips them out of the ground as she flees. The laugh grows louder and more shrill as she gallops toward me, steps faltering but not fast enough. Her tongue, more leech than anything, slithers out to grab me.

This is a good time to reach for my sword. In one fluid motion, I throw my arm out, slicing off the vampire colt’s disturbing tongue. I bend my screaming knees and lurch upward, plunging the tip of King Masone’s blade into her skull and out the other side.

I’ve heard cheers when I’ve done well in the arena and cheers when I didn’t think I’d leave here alive, but I’ve never heard anything like this.

A new Bloodguard has risen against all odds, and the audience responds in turn.

“Bloodguard!” they chant over and over.

I’m supposed to bow, I guess. I don’t. I was never here for them. I was here for my mother, who gave what little she had to her children, even at the expense of her life.

I was here for Rose, who placed her heart into each word she wrote.

And for Dahlia, who told me I was a hero long before I became one.

They’re not here. So now I must be. For me .

And for the one I will love for eternity.

Me and Maeve, we’re going to be together, build a family, and take back Arrow.

Pega stumbles to stand atop the crate. “You did it,” she slurs.

Hell, yeah, I did.

Pega, Luther, and Gunther made it. The two gladiators gape at me, dumbstruck.

Not Gunther. He always believed in me.

“Bloodguard! Bloodguard!” he chants along with the crowd and leaps off the crate, expecting me to catch him. Which, of course, I do.

My friends jump down beside us, Luther lowering Pega to the ground. She holds out her arms, and Gunther wriggles free to throw himself into them. Luther claps me on the back, and I hug him in retaliation.

“It over!” he bellows. “Blood guard! BLOOD! GUARD!”

“BLOODGUARD!” Gunther joins in, jumping and shouting beside a misty-eyed Pega. “BLOOD! GUARD! BLOOD! GUARD! BLOOD! GUARD!”

Holy fucking shit.

It’s really over. All the mind games, the pain, the injuries, the starving—the not fucking knowing if when that horn blasted, it would be the last time I’d hear it.

Five horns blast in a row now. Five horns to announce the new Bloodguard. I raise my arms and roar. I did it. I fucking did it.

Three swishing sounds in quick succession have me whirling. I move on instinct, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I knock away one arrow and catch another.

A wave of gasps and screams comes from all sides of the arena. I toss the arrow at my feet and look up to where horror blanches Maeve’s face, her hands lifting to cover her mouth and hold back a scream.

Next to them, Soro stands, bow in hand. “You think you won, gladiator?” he says. “You are dead wrong .”

Dread fills my chest to the point I can’t breathe.

Soro shot three arrows.

I only defended against two.

Time is a horrible thing, slowing down so I don’t miss a damn detail, like Pega’s bright, bloodstained hair fluttering in the wind, and Luther’s stricken face…and Gunther’s unmoving body.

The arrow I failed to catch punctured straight through his heart.

He was an easy kill. Mostly starved, there was no muscle to shield him—just small, frail bones that never had the opportunity to grow.

He lies quietly, his head against Pega’s lap as he stares up at the sky.

She smooths her hand across Gunther’s brow, showing him the kindness he was for so long denied.

I collapse on my knees beside him.

He smiles when he sees me, opening his palm to show me the bent nail, his sole weapon against the monsters.

I cover his hand with mine, willing my strength, my life into him.

But I don’t have that kind of magic. I’m only human, after all.

Pega openly sobs. “Soro aimed that arrow at me, Leith.” She points accusingly at herself. “It was meant for me . Gunther stepped in the way.”

“I f-f-f-ight,” Gunther says. It’s then he weeps. “I po-tect.”

They are his last words.

Rage fills me and boils over. “Go,” I tell them.

Luther starts to speak, but I don’t give him the chance. “Go,” I growl.

I rise and face Soro, the aspiring king who is so noble and brave that he murdered a child—already battered, already suffering.

I’m mildly aware of the shock making its way around the arena.

Luther carefully cradles Gunther’s body in his arms and walks away. Pega follows, weeping. They’re quick. Almost as quick as Gunther’s slaughter.

I bend, pick up Gunther’s nail, and pocket it for safe keeping, like I did with Sullivan’s hair. Maybe they can be buried together.

And then I straighten. I wrench my sword from the vampire colt’s skull… The sword of the original king. And I set my sights on Soro.

I stalk forward, kicking through the sand. I couldn’t save Gunther, I failed Sullivan, and I was far from my sisters as they died scared and alone. But I will save my queen.

Soro smiles. “Come now, gladiator. It was only a game.”

“I’m a fucking Bloodguard!” I fire back. “And you, you cocksucking coward , just murdered a child!”

There’s a collective murmur in the crowd. Some boo him—even the surrounding royals. I don’t care about them. Soro has my full attention.

“He was small and defenseless,” I bite out through my teeth. “His name was Gunther, and he was my friend!”

Soro tosses his bow and arrow aside. “And what if he was?” he hisses, knowing he’s losing part of his loyal audience. “I will be your king!”

“No, you won’t,” I growl. “I challenge you, Soro, for Maeve of Iamond’s hand.”

The audience isn’t murmuring anymore. They’re screaming.

I pay them no mind. “I challenge you for that little boy’s senseless death, for Sullivan, and for every gladiator you’ve forced to fight in this wretched arena. I. Challenge. You , Soro, to a fight to the death.”