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I glanced at the opposite cliff–their destination. There was nothing special there that told me anything about what might await them. Simply rocks and grass and low shrubs. If there was a way out over there, like the door that had opened in the first trial as each contestant reached the top, I couldn’t see it.
Avriel had managed to stand up. He was moving slowly towards Selwyn, dragging his broken leg behind him.
Selwyn watched with a faint smile on his lips. He was plainly unconcerned.
A shout rang out from Lyrastra. She had paused on the rickety wooden rungs and was pointing upwards.
A shrill, avian cry pierced the air.
Harpies!
Monstrous birds twisted through the air with deadly grace, converging onto the spot where Draven and Lyrastra stood.
There was a sharp shout of pain. For a moment, I stared at Lyrastra and Draven in confusion.
But the cry had not come from them.
Selwyn!
I watched in horror as the large man dropped his ax and sank to his knees, clawing frantically at his face.
Avriel stood a few feet away, grinning with malice. Then he licked his lips, opened his mouth wide and a green liquid sprayed out, coating Selwyn's hands and every part of his face still left uncovered.
Selwyn let out a piercing scream of pain and his hands dropped away.
I gasped and around me heard many Siabra doing the same.
Selwyn's face had been destroyed. His flesh dripped from his bones.
Avriel had shot some sort of acid from his mouth, dissolving Selwyn’s skin.
I looked wildly at Javer, waiting for some sort of explanation.
“Fascinating,” the mage murmured, his eyes wide with horror. “The torment must be exquisite.”
I gritted my teeth. “How is he fucking doing it?”
“Some sort of reptilian reserve from a pocket in his throat. It must be a very limited amount or he would have used it against his other opponents before now. Evidently, he's been saving it for a moment of desperation like this...” Javer gestured to Avriel's leg. “When he knew he would need the upper hand.”
“The upper hand?” A bitter laugh broke from my lips. “Selwyn's face isgone. I suppose you could call that gaining the upper hand.”
Selwyn was a pitiful sight. A terrible keening sound was coming from the antlered man’s throat as he clutched it with his acid-burned hands. The acid was still doing its evil work. The flesh on his face and hands continued to bubble and melt away, pieces of skin falling like leaves to the ground around him.
On the bridge, Draven and Lyrastra watched horror-struck. But they had problems of their own. The harpies were nearly upon them. And besides, it was far too late for them to help Selwyn now.
The large man fell onto his side, his body spasming and twitching.
Avriel watched and waited. When Selwyn seemed to be dead, he stepped forward, straightening his body. He was not as badly hurt as he had pretended to be, I realized with shock. As he began to step forward, Avriel was still able to put some weight on his broken leg.
He stepped over Selwyn's prone form, and touched a foot to the first rung of the wooden bridge, then paused, watching in what seemed like amusement as the harpy flock descended on Draven and Lyrastra.
I knew better than to think he would engage in the fight. He would hang back, waiting for the other two challengers to clear the bridge. Only then would he dare approach.
Was there more acid in his throat? Was he saving it for Lyrastra and Draven? Or was Javer right and that had been his only reserve? I imagined Draven's face melting away as acid burned through flesh and bone and shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself.
The harpies had reached Draven and Lyrastra.
The monstrous birds looked exactly as I remembered from when they had attacked us at Meridium. A grotesque fusion of woman and bird, a macabre and deformed caricature of two originally beautiful creatures.
