40. Kami

40

Kami

I wake feeling uneasy. It takes me a few moments to realize I dreamed of Malkar and his past.

I wipe tears from my cheeks, saddened by his losses.

But perhaps none of it was real. After all, how could I know what his life has been like? I'm not telepathic, and mind magic has always been limited to those rarest of mages and unique ethereals.

If I did dream of Malkar's past, perhaps it had to do with our bonding yesterday. A union I shared with Crash too.

I glance over at Crash to find him talking with Ries. He's waving his arms around, animated, but not appearing upset.

He must not have dreamed what I did.

But I notice Malkar isn't present.

I sit up and call for him. "Malkar?"

"He just got up and stepped out into the trees." Oz crouches down next to me and wipes my tears away with gentle fingers. "You okay, Kami? "

"Bad dreams."

"I hear you." He sighs. "There's something heavy in the air. Do you feel that?"

"Yeah," Crash barks. "That's what I'm telling you idiots."

Ries glares. "You know, maybe if you were a little less obnoxious, we'd listen more."

"Fuck off."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about. And why you don't have many friends."

"More like any friends," Oz mutters.

As Ries and Crash continue to bicker, I head into the woods to do my own business. There's a small creek running through some trees, and I use the water to clean up and drink.

A rumble in the air has me hustling back to the others, who have all gathered to look up at the sky.

"What are we looking at?" I ask.

Malkar frowns as the clouds swirl despite the lack of wind. "That."

Beyrthnel's face appears in the sky. He smiles down on us and laughs—the booming I just heard.

Just as suddenly, he disappears.

"Well, that can't be good." Oz looks grim.

Crash mutters, "Stop the war god."

We all look at him, and I feel his words resonate deep inside me.

How the hell are we supposed to do that?

Then the ground opens up beneath us, and the war god is the last thing on my mind.

What feels like an eternity later, I crash hard into something that grunts as we make contact.

"Ow. For someone so small, you aren't that light," Crash growls and rolls so that I'm no longer on top of him.

Ries groans. "At least you got Kami. Oz landed on my back."

"Sorry." Oz is trying to disentangle himself from Ries while Malkar looks as if he floated to the ground, standing undisturbed.

I glance around to see that we're in the arena we first walked through. It's a large circular plateau covered in short grass with the occasional giant boulder, at least three times Oz's height, and odd piles of rocks staged in various places.

The arena is packed with cheering fae. In the prominent box on one end sits the monarch, his demon, and a green female with dark hair who stands a head taller than the crowned light elf.

They are some distance away so I can't make out exact features, but I recall the monarch's fine features and his scary looking demon.

Unfortunately, our small group and another clad in Asrai colors are the only ones on the ground.

That white-haired bastard announcer stands on a small, floating pavilion near the monarch and spreads his arms wide.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Sacred Lakes, welcome to the ninth annual Radiant Trials!"

Noise swells in the stadium, hurting my ears.

I step closer to Oz and Malkar, and Ries and Crash back up, so that we form a tight circle, facing out against all threats.

"For our first battle, we have Team Asrai versus Team Lancer. So who should go first? Everyone, select your candidate."

"Candidate?" I repeat.

Oz grimaces. "Fuck. I forgot about this. They try to go for blood right away."

"Huh?" Ries blows out a breath. "Explain."

"They like to see a real show, so typically, the first fight takes place between favorites. Individual favorites."

Wait. I'm going to have to fight someone one on one? I'm not a killer. I mean, I have killed because I had to, but my skills are limited unless I want everyone seeing I'm not just a dryad.

But better to be seen as a monster than a necromancer. I might turn trees carnivorous. I can't bring anyone back from the dead or jump into the Veil. But it might not be a bad idea to avoid making any apple trees if I can help it.

Relieved, I take another look around. Unfortunately, I don't see any trees. And I can't feel for any saplings unless I focus, which I can't with hundreds of eyes on me.

But maybe?—

The announcer interrupts the cheering to say, "From Team Lancer, the dryad, Kami. And from Team Asrai, Dalien, the half-ghoul."

I blink. Did he just say my name?

I turn to Oz, but he's staring at the monarch with a blank expression on his face. It's forced, as if he's hiding what he's truly feeling. I know this because I've gotten used to Oz's many expressions throughout our journey.

"Oz?"

Crash takes a hard look at our orc and frowns. "What's wrong with you?"

Malkar looks at the monarch's box, thoughtful.

Ries grips me by the shoulders. "Don't be scared. Concentrate. It's you or him. And make no mistake. He'll kill to survive. If you want to live, do whatever you have to." Ries leans close and whispers, "Do the energy thing and knock him out."

"That's not how it works." I blink back tears. I so wish I was the badass necromancers are purported to be.

I glance over to see my opponent, a young ghoul, trembling as he's shoved by one of his companions to step forward.

He doesn't look any happier about being here than I am. I see a few tears in his eyes and can't help feeling compassion for him.

"Go on, Kami. You can do this." Ries pats my shoulder.

Malkar steps forward and nods. "You have been gifted by your Better. You will win."

Still with the Better thing. I sigh.

Crash just nods toward my competitor. "We don't have space for losers. Win or don't come back."

"If I don't win I won't be alive to come back," I snap.

He grins. "Exactly. Go get ‘em, killer."

I pause, waiting for a mini pep talk from Oz, but he just stares at me and says nothing.

I ignore the hurt and take a few steps away from them.

Iron bars rise from the ground around my group. A glance at the yelling behind me shows the other group has been isolated as well, able to see but not push through to freedom.

It's just me and the half-ghoul.

Other than the two of us, our groups seem well matched. I note a werewolf and demon along with two fae. They'll be up against our demon, merman, orc, and fire fae.

But between the ghoul and me, I'm not sure who's weaker.

Hands of clay form on the ground and clamp onto my ankles, immobilizing me. From the cry I hear, my opponent feels the same.

Then we're hurtling toward each other and meet in the middle of the arena.

The clay hands vanish back into the ground, hidden behind the blanket of grass underfoot.

I realize the half-ghoul appears a little older than I thought. He's taller and bulkier up close but just as terrified.

Ghouls tend to land on the thin side, gaunt and constantly replenishing their energy by gnawing on bones and flesh. They are half-dead after all, and life is not a natural state for all beings.

This guy is a half-ghoul, though and looks pretty healthy to me.

He has kind eyes a startling shade of green.

"I'm really sorry about this," he says in a low voice and tries to stop crying. "I don't want to be h-here." He sniffs.

"Me neither. Maybe we can just pretend to fight?"

The monarch stands and shakes a fist in the air. "For Beyrthnel, may the best fighter survive."

Before I can blink, Dalien stabs me in the stomach.

There's shouting and cheering from the ground as the stands erupt in a cacophony of delight.

The half-ghoul is smiling through tears, but his sadness is real. "I'm so, so sorry. But I don't want to die."

I should feel a lot more pain than I do and realize he probably didn't cause a life-stealing blow. His blade is blunted, I note, and no longer than his arm.

Then an agony explodes in my stomach. A pool of green blood wells under my feet as more oozes steadily from my gut.

I feel a momentary weakness and hit the ground hard on one hip.

"Kami, get the fuck up," I hear Ries roar.

Dalien kneels, straddling my waist, and raises his blade above his head in preparation for a killing blow.

The crowd chants Beyrthnel's name.

I have to do something. Anything.

I can't die now, not when I still need to avenge Ahza. Not when Rilitar needs to pay for what he's done to so many.

But instead of finding a way to escape, I can only watch as the half-ghoul lets out an agonizing shriek and jerks the blade down.

Toward my heart.