Page 77 of Iron & Embers (The Ashes of Thezmarr #1)

CHAPTER 77

Wren

‘With my body as a shield, my mind as a blade, I will not hesitate to sacrifice’

– Drevenor Academy Oath of Secrecy

W REN ’ S BLOOD RAN cold.

The Gauntlet?

If this was the Gauntlet, then where were Zavier and Dessa? If this was the Gauntlet, what had happened to the other teams? To the points system and the staggered start times?

Wren was suddenly moving, stumbling down the dark passageway outside her cell. She reached for her belt and pulled out more dried iruseed, chewing the bitter substance quickly. She couldn’t afford to pass out, not now.

A scream sounded, but the echo was disorientating, bouncing off the wet walls and adding to the pounding in Wren’s head. The dank, musty smell of the crypt filled her nostrils, and she fought the urge to gag. She had to act quickly if they were to have any chance of continuing. She had to find Dessa and Zavier.

All around her were iron doors, a small window at the top of each. Empty. Empty. Empty , she realized as she passed, her hands trembling violently at her sides.

A scream sounded again, this time far sharper and closer than the last.

Dessa .

Wren ran, following the sound, ignoring the dizziness that flooded her vision.

At last, she reached the right cell. Peering through the bars, she spotted Dessa slumped against the wall, her face bruised, her clothes torn. The cell’s door was ajar, and there was no one else inside.

‘Dessa,’ Wren whispered urgently, ‘it’s me. It’s Wren. I’m here to get you out.’

Dessa lifted her head weakly, her eyes struggling to focus. ‘Wren? How did you...?’

‘No time to explain,’ she interrupted, pushing the door open with a creak. ‘Can you stand?’

Dessa nodded, leaning heavily on Wren for support. ‘Zavier?’ she asked.

‘Right here,’ came his voice from the doorway.

Wren’s gaze snapped up to spot his lean figure braced against the frame. He was bleeding heavily from a cut in his brow.

‘Did you say anything?’ Wren asked. ‘About—’

Zavier shook his head. ‘ Six hours and not a word of Drevenor’s secrets... ’ he said darkly.

Wren turned back to Dessa. ‘Did you tell them anything?’

‘No,’ her friend croaked.

Wren dragged Dessa upright, towards Zavier. ‘We’re in the—’

‘Gauntlet, I know,’ he told her, looping Dessa’s other arm around his shoulder. ‘I know the way out.’

‘Shit,’ Dessa muttered between them.

‘Sums up my feelings on the matter,’ Zavier grunted, hauling her from the cell.

Wren pushed a piece of dried iruseed into Dessa’s mouth as Zavier navigated the winding passageways of the crypt, the terrain inclining as they went.

‘Not far now,’ he said.

It wasn’t long before soft light glowed at the end of the tunnel, and the trio limped towards it. As they reached the end, they came upon a gate.

‘It’s locked,’ Wren muttered, rattling it by the bars.

‘It’s timed,’ Zavier told her. ‘Remember? The team ahead of us gets a ninety-second head start...If they passed the secrecy test—’

As if in answer, something deep in the gate groaned, and the door swung outwards.

‘Let the Gauntlet begin,’ Zavier murmured, stepping forwards.

As they crossed the threshold, Wren’s breath caught in her throat. For beyond it was a forest.

The trees closed in around them, the canopy hanging heavy with an eerie stillness. Wren’s heart was still racing, and a wave of goosebumps rushed over her arms as she and her companions moved deeper into the glade. She thought she heard a cry in the distance, but neither Zavier nor Dessa showed any sign of hearing it, so she pressed on. The plants were so dense that they had to climb over roots and bushes, and Wren’s heart shot into her throat as she brushed against hairy leaves that she was sure would elicit some sort of horrific reaction.

‘We need to treat our injuries,’ she said, eyeing their cuts and bruises in the dappled moonlight.

Zavier nodded to her belt. ‘Got anything in there?’

‘A lot of it was taken during...’ she trailed off. She wasn’t ready to talk about her interrogation yet. ‘But there should be some basics we can use with whatever the forest holds.’

Zavier’s head was still oozing blood. ‘Not looking too good, is it?’

‘I’ve seen worse,’ Wren told him, scanning the ground for anything that might staunch his bleeding.

Dessa pointed behind Wren. ‘There’s some yarrow by that tree over there.’

Giving her a grateful nod, Wren took several cuttings of both the leaves and the flowers, passing them to Zavier. ‘Those should help it clot.’

He gave her a wry smile. ‘I know.’

Wren dug through the remainder of the herbs at her belt, dishing out the last of her dried iruseed. ‘That won’t fix anything, but it’ll stop you losing consciousness. The Warswords have been using it for centuries in battle.’

Together, they patched themselves up as best they could.

‘What now?’ Wren asked, looking around at the dense treeline.

‘Look,’ Zavier said, pointing.

Around the trunks of several trees, black ribbons had been tied, creating a path to follow.

‘They’re heading south-west,’ Zavier said. ‘Drevenor lies in the same direction. I say we follow them.’

As the trio moved deeper into the dense forest, the eerie silence enveloped them. The towering trees seemed to close in around them, their gnarled branches reaching out like ghostly fingers, making the hair on the back of Wren’s neck stand on end.

A twig snapped beneath Zavier’s boot, and Wren whirled around, her hand instinctively reaching for her dagger. Dessa placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but her eyes darted nervously through the shadows.

‘We need to pick up the pace,’ Wren whispered, her voice barely audible above the rustling of leaves.

They pressed forwards, each step more cautious than the last, while the forest seemed to watch them, as if the very trees had eyes. Wren’s senses were on high alert, her ears straining for any sound that might signal danger.

As if on cue, distant screams echoed through the dense foliage.

An icy chill raked down Wren’s spine, her heart pounding.

Suddenly, the screams weren’t so distant. The cries grew louder, more panicked, more hysterical, until the very ground seemed to vibrate with their intensity.

Wren locked eyes with Zavier and Dessa. ‘ Run ,’ she hissed.

Branches whipped at Wren’s face as she sprinted, her lungs and injured ribs burning with each ragged breath. She could hear her teammates’ footsteps beside her, their own desperate gasps for air mingling with the sound of their pursuers.

The forest blurred around them, a kaleidoscope of green and brown as they dodged trees and leapt over fallen logs. Wren’s mind raced as fast as her feet, trying to form a plan, a way to escape the relentless pursuit while each scream behind them pierced the air like a dagger, fuelling their urgency as they navigated deeper into the forest.

A horrific snarling noise had Wren whirling on her feet. Between the trees, she saw them: two women and a man emerged from the shadows, their faces contorted with madness. Wren recoiled as she recognized the telltale signs: eyes glazed with inexplicable rage, slight foaming at their mouths, hands curled at their sides, animalistic noises...

All symptoms of mad honey disease.

‘Stay back,’ she cautioned the others. ‘They’re—’

‘Mad honey disease,’ Zavier cut in, palming a dagger and sizing up their opponents. ‘Nectar of rhododendron has fucked them up good. You think they were force-fed the honey?’

‘There’s no way to tell,’ Wren replied, not taking her eyes off the trio that stalked towards them, menace in their stares.

‘We can’t fight them,’ Dessa argued. ‘They don’t know what they’re doing. They’re—’

‘They knew what they were doing when they signed up for Drevenor,’ Zavier said. ‘It’s every alchemist for themselves.’

Wren plucked two vials from her belt and braced herself, muscles tense with anticipation.

Dessa hesitated. ‘I don’t think—’

But with feral growls, the afflicted group lunged forwards, their movements erratic and unpredictable. Like a caged animal, one of the women swiped at Wren as though she had claws, and Wren sprang into action. All those lessons with Torj came flooding back and her body moved instinctually, blocking the blows and the onslaught of fists, twisting out of any grip before she could be immobilized.

She moved with more fluidity than she ever had, leaning into the rhythm her body set as she parried the frenzied attacks from her peers. Zavier and Dessa fought beside her, their movements echoing her own in a deadly dance.

With a flick of her fingers, Wren popped the corks on the two vials she’d drawn from her belt. ‘Stay back,’ she warned her companions as she flung the contents at their opponents.

A cloud of darkness exploded between them, and Wren lurched forwards, grabbing Zavier and Dessa by the arms and hauling them back.

‘Come on,’ she panted. ‘It won’t keep them for long.’

‘What was that?’ Zavier looked astounded.

‘Soot root powder,’ she replied, pulling them through the undergrowth, desperate to put distance between them and the mad team.

As they moved through the forest, Wren realized it seemed to be narrowing around them. Soon, they were on a path that led into a steep decline, taking them beneath the surface of the forest. Damp earth formed a narrow tunnel, leading them down, down, down...

Wren’s thoughts turned as dark as the earthen walls closing in around them.

All paths lead to the underworld .