The glow of the pyramid fades. Lictor releases my wrist and looks at his hand, flexing his fingers. ”Much better than most first tries,” he says. He grabs me as I stumble back. He leans backwards and keeps me from falling on the ground, even though I nearly trip on my own legs.

  I gasp for air, but there’s no need to gasp. I can breathe just fine. I’m back at the large hall, standing next to the pyramid. My ear is fine. My body remembers nothing of the pain of being thrown across a forest and slammed back first into a tree. I touch my shoulder where I hit the branch. There’s nothing there. My shoulder is completely fine.

  ”Your first death on a Ride,” Lictor says. “Good to get it out of the way early.”

  I lick my lips. Everything feels normal. My body is at ease. My mind is a whirlpool of weightless memories. I lift a hand to touch my face, to make sure I’m real.

  Lictor taps his foot on the marble floor and folds his arms over his chest. His eyes wander around the room, like he’s trying to follow the echoing sound of boot on stone. ”Don’t worry. Rworg and Mandollel handled the rest of the Kertharians. Those two are quite a sight, I have to say.” He whistles and smirks, but then turns to look back at me. “Too bad that you died.” He makes a solemn face, then slaps his hands together. ”Well! At least there’s something to improve the next time.”

  My mind is calm. I remember the panic, the chaos of the fight. The sound the arrow made as it hit her in the stomach. It all feels like it happened to someone else entirely. Someone else’s memories. I look at my hands and rub my fingertips together. The callouses on them rasp together, earned from training the bow hours every day.

  ”You get used to it. It’s better this way. Allows you to take risks and do things that you couldn’t if the consequences felt real.”

  Lictor has stepped back nearer to the pyramid. Did he touch it while I wasn’t looking? Would I have noticed? Does he already know how I will react and what I’m going to ask?

  He stands there with his hand held out. ”We’re short on time here.”

  I raise my hand slowly, hesitating. He grabs my wrist, yanks me toward the pyramid, and starts slapping his hand into it, four times in total. My vision flashes in time with the slap, even though there’s no physical sensation.

  Someone flicks me on the forehead, or at least it feels like that. I yelp at the snap. Lictor stops. His fingers pull back, away from the pyramid. He puts his hand into his pocket as the glow of the pyramid fades.

  Lictor’s tongue peeks out to lick his lips. ”That should be enough,” he says and lets go of my wrist. ”Do you want to catch your breath or go and meet the others directly?”

  I raise my hand to make him wait and touch my forehead. It’s raw, tender. There’s something that feels like a huge mole, size of my pinky’s tip, above my brows.

  Lictor shrugs and waves his hand over his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away after this Ride.”

  I touch the mole again. It’s still there. I wince as the touch makes it throb. I didn’t know this would be part of the deal.

  “Trust me, it’s nothing. We’ll need to go and meet the others.”

  I frown at Lictor, but it makes me feel the mole between my brows, so I smooth my face again. I swallow as I realize the mole feels more important and worrying than the skirmish and… getting killed? Coming out of the Ride, the thought of dying feels like waking up from a dream. Fighting people doesn’t feel too different from hunting, or even target practice. If it didn’t really happen, maybe it doesn’t count that I…

  I shake my hand at Lictor, even if the gesture is really to sweep away the thoughts of killing someone. ”Wait. Wait! Everything’s going to happen again now, exactly like it already did?”

  He crosses his arms before his chest. ”Yes, and no. We’ll skip our discussion, unless you want to get some fruit. That means you’ll meet the rest of the team a bit sooner. The difference is too small to matter. And as you surprise the Kertharians, the fight will be pretty much the same too.” He uncrosses his arms and points a finger at me. ”Unless you decide to make some changes.”

  The emphasis makes it clear that he’s not going to be making any. The attack on the camp will happen. It’s up to me if I want to survive the fight. Or avoid it? Why are we attacking them in the first place?

  The air in the hall is still and cold. The blue light makes Lictor’s eyes white and black. He lowers his finger and puts his hands in his pockets. ”The attack will happen. What are you going to do differently?”

  I focus on considering his question to distract myself from the throbbing in my forehead. He said they are attacking a settlement? Saving them is reason enough, I guess. I take a look around the hall to avoid looking at him, but there’s nothing new to look at. Of course there isn’t.

  Lictor stares at me, waiting. I have to answer something. I can take down the two first mages quicker. Be somewhere where the woman doesn’t find me or take her down earlier, as well. Avoid the explosion or make sure the last mage can’t finish the spell. Talk Finna into coming along. I have no idea if that’s something that can be done. Lictor would know. ”What do I usually do?”

  ”Good question. Walk with me. I want some cherries before we go.”

  Lictor turns around and walks to the same door as before. The clerk looks up and smiles. He puts his quill into an inkpot, being careful not to smudge his papers with his sleeve. ”Oh! Welcome back, sir Janitor. Found your man, eh?”

  Lictor grunts. The feeling of deja vu makes me stumble. Everything swims, but I catch myself and hurry after him.

  ”Done for the day?” the clerk shouts after us, the smile freezing on his face.

  I make myself smile at him and wave. He raises his hand slowly at me. The worried look doesn’t leave his face.

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  Lictor has kept going. ”Keep up.”

  I jog to catch up to him. He’s holding open the door from earlier. The couches and the table and the fruit are still there.

  Lictor goes straight to the table and picks up some cherries from the pile of fruit. He remains standing, puts one in his mouth, and spits out the pit into the corner of the couch. ”So, back to your question. You usually do exactly what you did the first time. Alternatively, if I give you more time to prepare, Mandollel comes up with a plan and you all follow it. It’s an excellent plan, but it gets you killed.”

  I feel like the lights of the room are dimming. My knees feel weak. ”I always get killed? What I’m supposed to do?”

  Lictor spits out another pit. It hits the backrest of the sofa and drops somewhere behind it. ”That’s up to you. It’s why you are here. You have four attempts to try things out. Then it’s time to do it for real. We’re running out of time and of attempts.”

  ”Wait, why are we running out of attempts? Can’t we… do this all over again?” I ask, but it’s like the throbbing in my forehead answers. I wince, but the pain isn’t that bad. Just weird and worrying.

  ”There are limits to using the Mountain Ride.” He wrinkles his nose and the corner of his mouth edges down, like he smelled something nasty. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen from him for a while. His eyes flicker at my forehead. “You don’t want to push it too far.”

  ”What would happen…” I stop in the middle of the question. It might be more comfortable not knowing. I resist the urge to poke at the mole. It’s not like I wanted to go on more Rides, even if I had known about this being a possibility. Keeping track of what has happened and what hasn’t is hard enough already.

  “Concentrate on the problem ahead of you, Locke. What are you going to do?”

  I lean forward, steepling my fingers. I guess I have no choice. He’s made that much clear.

  My original position was good. From there, I can handle at least two of the mages before they even realize I’m there. Maybe on one Ride I could try to shoot the first warmage while he’s still inside his tent, before anyone in the camp realizes they are going to be attacked.

  I’m starting to grasp the amount of power Lictor has. The thought makes me blanch.

  Lictor digs around in the pile of fruit and tosses me the black spiky non-fruit. ”Take this, just in case. Ready to go?”

  I catch the thing and it pokes at my palms. I hesitate, but put it in my pocket. I have the outlines of a plan ready. The trick is going to be getting the others to follow it.

  My plan is ready by the time we enter the room where the others are waiting. This time I’ll get it right. Everyone is in slightly different positions than the last time. Mandollel is leaning on the couch, head turned so we can see his profile when we enter with Lictor. He straightens his back, tosses his hair, and bows at me. ”You must be Locke,” he says.

  I bow back to him. “Yes, it’s pleasure to meet you, Mandollel.”

  He rises up and furrows his brow. His eyes hover over my eyes while he speaks. ”Likewise. We’ve heard much about you from Lictor—“

  I raise a hand to stop him. ”Wait, we’re short on time.”

  Mandollel’s mouth stays open, but he stops talking. He closes his mouth and I could swear he almost pouts. I guess he’s not used to getting interrupted. Finna perks up. I can’t see her eyes from behind her hair, but her mouth tightens.

  ”What?” Rworg says from his couch. He reaches a hand to grasp his sword beside him.

  ”We’re attacking a Kertharian camp and we need a new plan.” I turn directly to Mandollel next, knowing I’ll need to do something about him taking charge. “The plan you make gets me killed every time.”

  He frowns, his perfect eyebrows knitting together even tighter.

  ”I can take care of the warmages, but I need someone to guard me. There’s a woman that I can’t be distracted by. Finna, you don’t know me, but I know you don’t necessarily want to be here, but can you help me with this one thing?”

  The room is silent.

  Mandollel squints at me, alternating looking between my eyes and my forehead. I’m still standing near the door, he next to the couches. His skin is like cream, but now it looks a shade paler than before. ”Did Lictor tell you about this?”

  ”No, I saw it on the last Ride. We can do better this time! I know—”

  ”Are you on a Ride now?” Mandollel says, interrupting me. His tone could cut steel. He walks toward me, every muscle on his face as tight as a bowstring.

  Rworg raises his head up. He bites his lip, eyes flickering between me and Mandollel.

  I take a step back from the elf. His eyes sparkle. There are motes of light in them and it might be beautiful, but the way he stares at me makes my face cold. “Well, um, yes.”

  Finna slams her feet down from the table. Her teeth are clenched. ”You absolute bastards. You bastard-bastard bastards.”

  Rworg’s face is slack. His arms dangle in his lap. He looks like someone hit him with a shovel on the back of the head. Lictor is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a smell of ozone in the air.

  ”What’s going on? I only wanted to—”

  Mandollel covers the last steps separating us. He leans down, pushing his face right up to mine. His thin pale lips are stretched into a snarl. ”You came here just to gloat at us? You have the audacity to rub this in our faces?”

  He smells like flowers and morning dew and I have never been as scared in my life. His eyes are everything I see, and it feels like looking directly into a loaded crossbow. A coiled spring, ready to punch a hole straight through me.

  ”Where’s that bastard Janitor bastard!” Finna screams. She has a dagger in each hand. I have no idea where she got them from.

  I lean away from Mandollel as far as I can.

  He grabs the front of my tunic. I yelp as his fingers dig into my chest. He yanks. Stitches of my tunic snap and rip. I yelp again as I’m lifted off my feet and thrown further into the room. It’s less violent than the time I got hit by whatever the Kertharian mage threw at me, but I still fly a solid five steps before landing on the table between the couches. Back of my knees hit the tabletop and I flip over it, bashing my elbow and the back of my head on the table. Something cracks below me and I tumble down with the table, two of its legs broken. Blood thrums in my ears and behind my eyes. I’ve survived worse tumbles, but I know I’ll be sore for days.

  Finna swings her daggers around wildly on the other side of the ruined table, screaming insults at the air. Rworg has sat back down and is sitting with his face in his huge hands.

  ”This one’s a bust,” Lictor’s voice says. He’s on my right, crouching and invisible. ”Maybe I should have told you, but I guess it’s good you see for yourself—”

  Lictor’s words are cut off by a sickening crunch. Mandollel crashes down from his jump with his full weight right next to me. His feet are wobbling in the air at the height of where they would be if he stood on someone’s head or neck. He stomps hard with his other leg and there’s another crunch.

  ”Why the hell would you—!”

  My shout is cut short as Mandollel kicks me. He doesn’t get much force into the kick, as something gives away under his other leg and he slides onto the floor. The kick glances off my shoulder. He regains his balance in a way that would make Lille proud.

  I tumble away from him and raise both my hands before me. ”Wait! Please! I only thought we could do better this time!”

  He doesn’t hear me. It looks like something has snapped in him. His beautiful face is twisted into a mask of rage and tears flow freely down it.

  Rworg looks up at us. His face is pale, but he has composed himself. He looks at Mandollel and the composure falls away. He starts to rise, reaching a hand toward the elf. Finna’s daggers lay on the ground and she sits between them, legs splayed on both sides forming a W-shape. I can’t see her face.

  Mandollel screams. His voice breaks and cracks. His hand grasps at his hip, and I guess what is coming. I try to dodge down and back toward the couches, but he’s way too fast. The silver streak of the sword flashes across my view. My vision starts to tilt sideways. For a confusing moment, I don’t feel my body. Instead, there’s a sharp, cold pain around my throat. The world twists and turns upside down. I hit the top of my head hard on the floor and see the rest of my body fall backwards away from me.