Gareth is busy arming himself with his favorite practice sword, clearly intending to be another obstacle. “Here’s your task,” he says, casually lifting the heavy wooden sword, pointing toward the far end of the arena. “Make it to the top of that platform without dying.”
Said platform is two stories up, with temporary steps erected before it—extremely narrow, rickety looking steps. It won’t be easy finding my footing on them. Especially not with one eye…and while being mercilessly bombarded with arrows.
The number of archers is even greater than I first realized, too; there are more stationed in the tiered viewing areas above us. So they can fire at me from every direction, all at once.
I know why Gareth is doing this: He’s once again exploiting my weakness, my lack of full vision. When it’s only a single projectile or two, I can usually rely on my agility training, on my hearing and on my other senses, to dodge things. I’ve learned how to pick off enemies as well, to isolate my battles so I’m not surrounded. And I rarely engage in any sort of sustained combat without someone—usually Briar—to watch my blindside.
But this…this will require me to be aware of far too many things at once. It’s perfectly constructed chaos. My worst nightmare. A weakness that I can’t overcome through sheer stubbornness alone.
Not that I don’t plan on trying.
“Ready?” Gareth asks.
I'm not. But I nod anyway.
“Begin.”
The first volley comes the instant I break into a run, arrows whistling through the air from at least six different directions. I dodge left, duck low, feel one graze my shoulder as I sprint toward the closest barricade. My heart is already hammering, adrenaline sharpening my focus.
I can do this.
Ihaveto do this.
Another volley. I throw myself behind the wooden barricade, wincing at the sound of arrows thudding into it a breath later. I risk a glance around the edge, and I notice several archers trying to reload at once, leaving a clear path to the next barrier if I movenow.
I run.
I make it half the distance before something slams between my shoulder blades, hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. An arrow from somewhere up above. It’s blunt, but it still fuckinghurts. I stumble forward, forcing myself to keep moving, because stopping just means getting hit again.
Gareth appears from nowhere, his practice sword swinging toward my legs. I leap over it—barely—and an arrow catches me in the thigh mid-jump. Blunt again, but the sting radiates through my entire leg, numbing it and nearly making it crumple beneath me.
I grit my teeth and keep running despite my tingling, wobbly leg. I just have to make it across this open stretch, then I can catch my breath?—
Three arrows hit me in rapid succession. Ribs, shoulder, hip. The one that glances across my hip doesn’t feel blunt; ittears through my clothing and leaves a strip of white-hot agony in its wake. The pain is enough to finally bring me to my knees.
“Again,” Gareth calls the instant I hit the ground, pointing me back to where I started.
Cursing, I push myself up. Blood is slowly soaking my hip, oozing down my leg. Every breath sends pain lancing through my ribs.
“Again,” I agree, walking stiffly back to the other end of the arena.
Blight lets out a low, uncertain growl.
I nearly glance her way. Whether to tell her to be quiet, or to reassure her that I’m fine—I’m not sure.
Then Gareth says, “You’re useless without the dragon. Why can’t you just admit it?”
Stubbornness flares anew in my heart. I ignore Blight’s continued growling as I brace myself for my second attempt.
This attempt doesn’t go much better than the first.
I make it farther—almost to the steps—before an arrow I never saw coming slams into the side of my face. Blunt, but it still splits my lips, and suddenly I'm on the ground again, the world spinning, warm blood trickling down my chin.
“Again,” Gareth barks.
I stagger upright and prepare to start yet again, not hesitating long enough to let any negative commentary in—either from myself or him. I’m vaguely aware of Blight pacing anxiously in the background, of her chains dragging and rattling. I still don’t look at her; I have enough obstacles to confuse me as it is.
I try a different route this time, moving faster, more erratically than before. Chaos to match the chaos that’s being thrown at me.
