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I laugh again.
Dessin turns to face me. “We’ll need to be on either side of him. He’s shitfaced.”
“A Niles sandwich? Hot.”
Dessin looks at me, ignoring our shitfaced friend. He inspects the spear Warrose threw to him with hazy eyes that are working overtime to see clearly. It reaches the height of his chest, made of black crystal.
“We’re up, let’s go,” Dessin orders, waving Niles and me to walk in front of him. “I’ll keep the line from overrunning us. You just focus on getting him across safely.”
Stepping up to the edge of the plank, the heatwaves alone nearly singe the hair off my arms. Chemical bursts of lava bubble and pop from the pit. And my god, that fire roars to life, as if it senses Niles’s presence.
“No,” Niles utters, sounding completely sober.
“Niles, I’m right here. I promise we’ll be quick.”
Involuntary tears drizzle over his cheekbones as he stares at the flames in debilitating shock. He doesn’t move a centimeter.
“I can’t move,” he whispers.
My stomach twists in knots at the sight of him. The careless, drunk humor vanishing from his eyes like a dying candle.
Sentinels throw their whips out toward us for holding up the line, and we all hiss as the lashings bite into our warm flesh.
“Go, Niles!” Dessin barks.
“I can’t.”
Bits of rocks are thrown by the enraged audience, cheering and booing as we cause a traffic jam. The arena is a carnivorous zoo of sweat, unrelenting heat waves, and thick puffs of smoke that burn our lungs. It’s overwhelming to all five senses, beating down on Niles like a torrent of rain from a monsoon.
“I can’t,” Niles says again, shaking from head to toe with a wet face from both tears and beads of perspiration.
I try to tug at his wrists, but he flails away from me, grunting like a child having a fit. His face pinches together, creating new lines on his forehead. He doesn’t even seem to notice the way the whips slash into his flesh, or the small rocks grazing his scalp, smashing into his shoulders.
“Please, Niles!” I yell over the terrifying symphony of people screaming as they melt in the pits. “We just have to get across, and it will be over!”
“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”
My panicked voice doesn’t reach him. My sweet, golden boy is trapped in a nightmare brought on by the heat flaring across his skin. I look up at Dessin with bulging eyes, pleading for him to have one of his ideas.
Dessin’s stoic gaze finds mine, staring into my soul as a decision unravels throughout his thoughts. He moves to Niles’s side with a calm grace that appears like he’s unhurried, unafraid, tranquil in every sense of the word.
“You’re thinking about that day on the beach,” Dessin says to Niles in a low voice. Meanwhile, he catches the end of each whip in his muscular hands, yanking them toward the pit and sending sentinels screaming to their deaths.
Niles doesn’t say a word. He pants shallowly and silently sobs.
“I get those flashbacks, too.” Dessin wraps a hand around Niles’s neck, urging him to look up. “But you became a warrior that day, buddy. And I need that warrior fighting by my side today. Do you understand?”
Niles blinks away the hot tears that drench his face.
“You’re my comrade. My friend. My brother. I need you to show up for me.” Chills race down my arms, pulsing through my fingertips as Dessin stares intently into Niles’s beautiful eyes.
“I am?”
I do my best to shield flying rocks, letting them tear the skin on my arms as Dessin smirks, giving Niles’s neck another squeeze.
“You are. Will you be the warrior I need by my side today, Niles?”
The gray, feverish storm clears over Niles’s face, replaced by a look as fierce and protective as a lion guarding his pride. He rises to his feet, reaching out his hand for me to take. Relief soothes the nerves in my chest, setting my shoulders straight.
