Page 52 of Hellbound

One by one, they reluctantly dropped their weapons onto the dais.

A white fog settled into the grounds of the statuary, fine and hazy. Ksenia averted her eyes from a nearby statue whose gouged pupils were alarmingly animated.

He led the candidates to the center of the statuary where the tallest statue stood: a likeness of Karsan, his face severe as he held a polearm in one hand and a thurible in the other. The thurible was a functioning incense burner, and a thick smoke wafted from the filigreed gaps.

Ksenia’s throat closed up as they drew near to it. It was larger than life, but still paled in comparison to the man himself. She felt his phantom fingers gripping her face and her throat, the bark of the tree pressing into her back as she shook her head and focused her gaze in the distance. She just had to get out of the statuary.

Beset by statues in every direction, the garden itself was a perfect square with no clear path to safety. She peered around, intent on forming a plan, but the black statues melded into a blur from the dull and throbbing ache that had settled into her bones since being parted from Caromir.

Bohdan’s voice carried softly on the wind. “So it begins.”

A javelin pierced the night air and speared a man with a gurgling shriek, sending the crowd into a panicked frenzy. Men shoved and threw each other back as they scrabbled in all different directions, ducking behind shadows, sprinting as fast as they could for the nearest wall.

A few more spears whizzed past, one missing just above Ksenia’s shoulder. She sprang to life, a cold sweat coating her body and her vision narrowing. An arrow found its mark in the back of a man’s head, sending him sprawling on the ground before her, dead. She tripped on his prone body and crashed into the side of a statue, her vision bursting white.

Stop and listen. Vornaya’s voice nipped at her ear. Ksenia gritted her teeth, slinking down against the statue.

The crowd had scattered, but Ksenia could pick out screams, the wet sounds of arrows plunging into flesh, and skittered footfall against grass. Amongst the carnage, she could pick out a few clear resonances—soulbound weapons.

One before her, several paces away, the others coming from the far distance and the corner behind her. The Envorsen, no doubt.

She trained her wide eyes on the shrouded figure before her, the chime resonating loudly through her head, the pressure rising in her ears.

Anyone but Bohdan.

And what will you do if it is Bohdan? Vornaya chuckled.

The mist rippled at the periphery of her vision, and she instinctively ducked to avoid the bastard prince’s slender sword.

He was targeting her.

She scrabbled to her feet as he stabbed down, catching the hem of her cloak. She sprinted away, losing herself in the mist before tucking behind the wide, flared cape of a statue. Fog swirled at her feet and she watched it, gaze unfocused, as she thought. She had to move purposefully, or he’d find her again.

She tapped into her bondsense, feeling for the sharp ring of his sword, when her back collided with someone.

“Watch where you’re going, you idiot!” her fellow competitor hissed. She recognized the bald man from earlier. He shoved her away, and she growled before recoiling in fear.

The echoing pitch of a soulbound blade blistered her eardrums.

A line of red opened across his throat as silver flicked past, painting her with blood. She wiped at her eyes and dashed in the opposite direction.

The blood on her tunic and neck grew clammy and sticky, and she scrubbed at her eyes with her sleeve as she slipped over the wet grass.

A few men were fighting near a dais over a longsword. A keening cry broke out as one came away victorious, skewering the other to his death.

The smug smile was wiped off the winner’s face quickly as a hatchet was buried into his forehead, sending him and the men who’d been watching the brawl scattering with a scream, weapon all but forgotten.

A crimson-uniformed soldier stalked into view, picked up the dropped bait, and placed it merrily back on the dais.

Ksenia’s stomach twisted. This was a bloodbath for sport.

She was halfway to the nearest wall now, where she could see a crowd of nobles forming, some cursing as the Envorsen brutally slaughtered the trial participants. Her sprint was interrupted by a bolt whizzing past, lodging itself into the back of a man retreating.

An Envorsen guard came into view, his smile lecherous. Ksenia bolted backward as he angled his crossbow in her direction. The bolt clipped her shoulder as she pivoted and ducked before a statue of a nun, her arms outstretched in piety. Ksenia gritted her teeth against the pain, hot blood gathering at her shoulder.

Directly behind her, boots crushed the soft grass underfoot, growing louder and louder as they approached.

Ksenia sank to the statue’s feet. She was several paces away from the low stone wall that marked the edge of the statuary.