Page 70 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

H alls stretched in front of her and to her left and right.

Rough dragonstone walls dripped with a foul-smelling water and a firelight hung every ten feet or so to light the way.

From where she stood, she couldn’t see any of the other Trial Champions that also made it through, but their screams of pain and fury carried through the halls like spirits.

Peering into the shadows it was impossible to know which hallway to take, so Ambrose let her instincts take over and sprinted down the one to her right.

She prayed to all of the gods it was the right choice. It didn’t matter which one heard her.

She chased the passage, hand along the wall to guide her as the firelights danced and flickered, casting ominous shadows.

Fresh blood staining places as she fled.

Something very large and unseen chittered at her from an opening to her right and she quickly flung herself down the one to her left.

The halls opened up into more halls as she ran, openings that would lead her left or right, further into, or away from the battles that raged inside.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Left.

Right.

Her breathing tore at her lungs, burning with each inhale and exhale as the smell of rot and moss filled her mouth and nose, so thick she could taste it.

She took shallow breaths to keep herself from vomiting.

The stench was so awful it was as though she were running over decaying bodies, long buried.

She threw her back against a wall and pressed the dagger against her chest, working to catch her breath as her mind raced.

Taking in the sights around her, she listened closely to each of the hallways that invited her down their dark, curved paths.

The hallways were curved, indicating that she was going in a circle, but closing in with each choice.

They got smaller and longer, no rhythm to how long one would last but each one curved and gave her little visibility than maybe ten feet in front of her.

No matter how much she tried to map her way in her mind, she couldn’t get a clear image of where she was going.

It looked like the tunnel system inside the palace but completely unfinished.

A subterranean maze built beneath it that rivaled the size of the palace itself, which meant the maze could go on for miles.

She hoped that if it looked like the tunnel system, then somehow maybe it was connected to them and she could find a way out.

If there was a way in, there had to be an exit.

She knew the palace was an arena but she never dreamed it was so large—or that Casimir would use it as such.

Unable to recognize anything, her guess was as good as any which hallways she should take. She avoided any with obvious sounds of fighting, but shouts carried from all ends, bouncing off the walls to feel as though they were coming from everywhere.

Maybe they were.

She took inventory of her body, making sure the adrenaline coursing through her wasn’t distracting her from any other injuries that she hadn’t noticed. Aside from the throbbing in her shoulder, she seemed fine.

Tucking the dagger into her corset, she had just enough room for it to fit without slicing her skin open so she figured it made as good of a hiding place as any.

Shouts carried from down the hall she was in from the direction she’d just come from. Metal screamed as a sword clashed against stone and her heart raced in her chest. Whoever it was must’ve been at the beginning of the hall because she couldn’t see them past the curved wall. Yet.

Ambrose lifted her hand in the air and waved it, extinguishing the nearby firelights with a forceful gust of wind. Covering her mouth she pushed herself as flat against the wall as she could and pulled the shadows over her body, too terrified to even breathe.

“Stop! Stay back!” someone yelled as another fighter forced him back with stalking steps.

Ambrose recognized the voice who spoke as belonging to a lesser noble from the Capital whose parents encouraged him to join the tournament. She’d watched him fight a few times and while he was a rather skilled swordsman, he didn’t compare to the size and brutality of the man that faced him.

The noble backed away as a man the size of a half giant towered over him.

Rowland.

She could barely make out their silhouettes in the darkness, but there was no mistaking the feel of how Rowland filled the space as though all the empty air was sucked from it.

Sword raised and steady, Ambrose had to give the noble some credit as he held his stance strong and didn’t back down from Rowland’s challenge.

Brave.

And a fool.

Ambrose fought to keep her breathing even, pressing her hand over her mouth and nose so not a whisper escaped them.

“I said stay back!” The noble swung his sword and Rowland batted it away with his massive forearm.

The hallways were narrow, Rowland almost didn’t fit inside them, giving him a disadvantage. But unfortunately for the fighter, they were also too curved and small to accurately swing such a large broadsword, making their odds a little more even—if not tilted towards Rowland’s victory.

The other fighter wore mostly leathers but had enough armor to make running through the halls difficult, giving him no choice but to face his opponent head-on. He swung his sword but caught the tip on the ceiling, taking most of the force away from it.

Rowland saw his opportunity and took it. Grabbing the fighter’s arm he bent it sideways, snapping it in half at the forearm.

The noble’s scream filled the darkness, invading Ambrose’s mind as it bounced off the walls and echoed into the distance. Dropping the sword in his broken hand, the blade rang when it hit the ground as the man fell to his knees, clutching his mangled arm.

Grinning, Rowland reached forward and wrapped his hands around the noble’s head, so big they all but made his face disappear.

The fighter thrashed and screamed as Rowland pressed his thumbs into the man’s eye sockets.

Blood spurted out, washing his hands in it as the man clawed at Rowland’s forearms to no avail.

Rowland stabbed his thumbs all the way into the man’s skull whose mouth fell open and his body went limp.

Rowland tossed his corpse to the ground and stepped over it like it was nothing.

Ambrose bit back the scream that wanted to claw its way from her throat. She closed her eyes and counted to five as she focused on keeping her breathing quiet and steady.

“I know you’re there,” Rowland growled.

Ambrose didn’t move or make a sound.

“I can smell your fear.”

Ambrose threw her body down the hallway but only made it a few steps when Rowland’s fingers wrapped in her hair and threw her onto the soggy floor.

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to leave part of it down.

Rowland’s eyes shone bright in the darkness, even with no firelights to illuminate them.

“I thought I already killed you.” Rowland stepped closer as Ambrose rolled backwards and up onto her feet.

She pulled the dagger from her side—learning from the fight she just saw—leaving her sword untouched at her hip.

Rowland lunged and wrapped a giant hand around her throat and squeezed, stealing the air from her lungs .

“Not yet,” she gritted out and sank the dagger into his wrist and pulled with all her might. Putting everything she had into it, metal bit through flesh until it connected with bone. Then she kept pushing until her blade touched nothing but air.

Rowland howled, bringing the now severed stump to his chest as his blood soaked her face, choking her in it.

She pried the fingers from his hand still wrapped around her throat and let it fall to the ground as air came rushing back into her burning throat. She gulped it in as her body crumpled to the ground, jumping back a few paces to get as far away from his death grip as she could.

Rowland’s scream sounded like there were multiple of him as the sound bounced off the stone and reverberated back to her.

He tried to run to close the distance she’d made but with how large and awkward his body was, his shoulders hit the sides as his head scraped the top, giving him no room to get to her quickly.

This gave Ambrose all the time she needed.

Crouching low, she pressed her hands into the ground and called to the stone around them. Her charge filled the space quickly, vibrating against the stone as she willed the material to answer. Demanded that it did. It vibrated as though eager to respond.

When she felt the hum inside of her flow jaggedly throughout the stone, she pulled her hands together and the walls shook violently.

Obeying her command, the rock burst from the walls as stone and debris fell on top of Rowland’s body, burying him where he fell.

Crushed under the impact, only his head and remaining good hand were left exposed as he ground his teeth together in fury. Teeth large enough to crush human bone.

“I’ll find you. And I will kill you.” He glared as he shifted his body under the rubble but all it did was manage to bury him deeper in it as stone broke and fell.

Ambrose cocked a smile at him. “Maybe another day. But not today.” Relief and terror bubbling in her throat as she took off down the hall.

She tucked her dagger back into her corset and ran as fast as her legs could carry her .

Right.

Left.

Right.

Right.

Left.

Unlike the tunnels in the palace that went every which way but often led to dead ends in a stuffy room, these tunnels guided her further in with no end in sight.

Curving and twisting, some led her to a blank wall in which she’d have to backtrack and try another one.

She quickly realized that what she did know about the tunnels would be no help to her there.