Page 73

“Tonight, I want an explanation,” he said.

I couldn’t deny him that.

We walked with the group as the sun climbed higher in the cloud-laden sky. Each shadow, each crinkled leaf, each howl of a wolf, I expected an attack. But midday came with no incident.

Until Harald put up a hand for us all to stop. Nothing moved, save for the ripple of his yellowed shirt in the breeze and the muscles beneath my skin, readying themselves for a fight. Harald flattened his body against the ground, studying something unseen, before rising with a sigh. “Tripwire. Lots of them.”

Our groans were his response. We had gotten ourselves lost in a maze of stone with dead grass at our feet and thin slabs of gray rock at our sides, twisting us in circles we could only hope led east. In turn, we all lowered to see the wires.

They strung from rock to rock, blocking our path. Thin, white, and tricky to see, like strands of spider’s silk bent on ensnaring us.

Gunnar had his hands planted on his narrow hips, turning up his nose at the series of wires. “What happens if we trip one?”

“Whatever happens, we are sure to hate it,” Harald said with a frown. “Easy to step over, just makes this a slow trip.” He stood with one foot on either side of the tripwire and one by one ushered us by carefully.

Clark found the next wire seven paces ahead. Again, we filed into a line to step over it, cautious not to touch the one behind as we did so.

I eyed the circular slots in the wall, guessing which weapon would fly our way should the wires be tripped. With luck, we’d never find out.

Clark stood guard of the last tripwire while Harald checked for the next.

And on.

And on.

And on.

It moved infuriatingly slow. At least the labyrinth showed its pretty side today. The stone walls were as if ripped from ancient history, something that’d stood for thousands of years and would stand for a thousand more. Ivy and moss draped across them, sitting on the backdrop of a scarlet sky.

Astrid stumbled once, her boot catching on the uneven stone. She froze mid-step. A wire was just inches from Astrid’s knee, taut and trembling. Harald grabbed her arm and steadied her before she could fall.

“Focus,” he hissed. “One mistake, and we're—”

Stones moved, like a giant machine awakening. Harald shifted to find a wayward wire had been strung at head level, and he’d walked right into it.

Clark noted it first, and with a shout, ordered us to drop. We all plummeted, chests slamming into the hard ground, praying whatever came would strike above.

In his surprise, Harald moved last. And not quickly enough. A bolt came at a sickening speed to slice through his arm.

He roared in pain.

Tove trembled beside me, but faithfully stayed put until we were sure no further bolts would follow. Then she scampered to her brother’s side.

The bolt tore through the sleeve of his shirt and brought a good deal of blood out with it. It stuck through the edge of his arm, far enough away that it didn’t hit bone but his muscle would be torn. He spoke through his teeth, “You have to push it all the way through.”

My stomach hollowed. But Tove nodded once, grabbed tight, and yanked.

Harald roared again as she pushed the bolt all the way through to come out the other side.

She dropped the bolt and went right into inspecting the wound, but Harald batted her away. “We will check it tonight. I’m eager to get out of this section.”

Harald drew in a deep breath, and it looked very much like he was drawing courage with it. Then he nodded. “Continue on.”

“Oh, and watch out for that wire there,” Gunnar said, pointing to the one Harald had just ran into.

Harald offered him a pained laugh as he ducked under the wire.

We moved doubly slow after that. Our eyes were now trained for wires at any height, the air filled with nothing but the sound of Harald and Clark leading us through. “Step over here, watch your head, go slowly there.”