A dizzying rush of panic swept over Corvan, and he had to grab the door frame to steady himself. Kate would die if he couldn’t find the passage to get her home, but what could he possibly do to rescue Jokten from the nightmare monster? His voice shook as he looked to Jorad. “Isn’t there someone else who knows how to find the entrance to the passages?”

  As soon as he voiced the question, he wanted to take it back. Everyone else was taking risks to help him. Jorad had carried Kate to the healer even though it put Tyreth’s life in jeopardy. The old woman had just risked arrest, or even death, to keep the soldier from pushing through the curtain to discover him, and Jokten had allowed the soldiers to drag him off be executed because the man believed he was the leader they had been waiting for.

  The old woman struggled to her feet, took Corvan’s hand and squeezed it, her eyes imploring him.

  Jorad put a hand on Corvan’s shoulder. “I will go with you. We must at least try to save Jokten from the karst.”

  Corvan clenched his jaw and blinked back tears. In his nightmares he had never escaped from the monster. The memory of its fierce eyes bearing down on him in his dreams overwhelmed his thoughts and he clenched his eyes tight to force it away. What good would it do Kate or anyone else if he died in the pit?

  Someone cupped his hands, and a sense of peace flowed up through his arms. In his mind, the red eyes faded into white stars that multiplied across a night sky. A deep calm came over him with a new realization: Death was not the worst thing that could happen. Far worse would be to let other people suffer while he ran away.

  Opening his eyes, he found the hammer in his hands, which in turn were cradled in the hands of the old woman.

  She studied his face. “Death eventually comes to us all, but before it does, we have many opportunities to choose life.”

  Corvan nodded and took the hammer from her. “I will try,” he said and immediately the blue glow from the base of the hammer filled the cave.

  She smiled and patted his cheek. “I believe you will succeed.”

  Outside the entry, a lone drum began pounding out a deep, steady beat.

  Jorad glanced out the entrance. “They are calling all the workers in to witness the execution.”

  Corvan frowned. “They will come to watch? I thought those oppressed by the palace would help each other.”

  The old woman shook her head. “Evil runs through all mankind, rich or poor, slaves or free. You will always find those who take pleasure in the misfortunes of others.”

  Corvan clenched the hammer tighter and looked to Jorad. “What will they do to him?”

  “They lower the prisoners into the pit one at a time to fight the beast,” the priest said. “None will win, for its hide cannot be pierced by the crude weapons they are given to defend themselves. Most will not even try. The beast will immobilize them with its gaze and crush them.”

  “If it’s trapped on that island and can’t go into the water, why don’t the people swim away?” Corvan asked.

  “There is no way out of the pit as the water flows in and out under the ground. None of the prisoners have ever sought to drown themselves to escape.”

  Corvan held out the hammer. “Can this be used against it?”

  “No,” the old woman said. “The hammer judges a soul and gives its holder strength; this is but a brute beast. Your hammer will not have any effect on it.”

  Corvan swallowed the rising fear. “Then what should I do?”

  Jorad stepped closer. “The only thing we can do. Step out this door and try our best.” He held out Morgan’s scabbard and knife. “Take this. I have my own. If we hurry, we can get there before they lower him in. They usually put the oldest ones in last.”

  Corvan extended his arm and Jorad lashed the knife into position. The man stepped to the door and nodded to him.

  The old woman tugged on Corvan’s sleeve. “Jokten says he is old and ready to die, but I love him dearly, I want him to live.” She tried to smile but it vanished before she shuffled through the faded tapestry and into her dwelling.

  Corvan followed Jorad outside. Just ahead light blazed from fire sticks scattered around the rim of the karst and from lighted globes on the platform. The pounding of a massive drum shook the ground. Above the crowd, the crane clattered into position over the center of the pit. Inside the cage, a man stood in readiness, a crude wooden spear in his hand.

  The crane groaned, the rope slipped through the pulley at its tip and the cage dropped a foot, then stopped with a jerk. The crowd roared its approval as the man in the cage staggered and fell against the metal slats.

  “It’s Jokten,” Jorad hollered over his shoulder. “They’re putting him in first.” The man shoved his way into the crowd. Corvan pulled in tight behind him, but in the madness, he quickly lost sight of the priest’s green cloak. Crouching low he forced himself past the tangle of legs, emerging at the very edge of the pit.

  Across the chasm, a row of shackled men stood on the crane platform, eyes downcast. At the far end of the line, a young boy, his hair closely cropped, sat tugging on his leg irons, his bony shoulders shuddering with terrified sobs. The boy looked past his tears at the ring of spectators until his eyes met Corvan’s. They stared at each other for a long moment, then the boy mouthed the words, “Help me!”

  As Corvan looked into the young boy’s eyes, everything inside him began to pound with anger along with the beat of the drum. How could people be so cruel? If he ruled the Cor . . .

  The metal gears clattered, the cage dropped another foot, and the people cheered, their voices energized with the anticipation of suffering and death.

  A guttural roar from the confines of the karst silenced the crowd. The immense black beast was pacing within a cleared circle of tall boulders below the swaying cage, its clawed feet crunching through bones and broken spears.

  Up on the platform the sergeant who had arrested Jokten strode into position next to the prisoners. “You are all here today to witness the testing of these workers—men who took food belonging to all of us here in the settlement.” Mutters of anger rippled through the crowd. “They have eaten what was to be shared by all and now they shall pay the price for their greed.”

  “That’s not true,” one of the shackled men cried out. “We were cutting a tunnel for the palace.” He pointed down the line of prisoners. “They brought the boy to crawl inside the crack and he found—” A blow from the sergeant caught him on the side of the head, and he crumpled to the ground.

  “For speaking out against the palace,” the sergeant announced, “this man shall go next.” The crowd shouted their approval as the guards unlocked the prisoner’s chains and pulled the dazed man to the front of the platform. The beast roared up at them. Startled, the guards dropped the groaning victim and retreated. The stunned man tried to get to his feet but misjudged the edge, falling without a sound into the water below.

  The crowd collectively held its breath until the body rose to the surface, then slowly slid around the island and out of view under a ledge.

  “In the name of the High Priest, this must stop!”

  Everyone turned to find Jorad standing at the far end of the platform, his hand pointing into the pit. “The gods are not pleased with this testing. That is why the god’s have returned the man’s body from the water.” He pointed down the line of men. “Since when is it lawful in Kadir to sentence a boy to the Karst?”

  Some of the audience shrank back from the edge of the pit and Corvan heard someone say, “He’s right about the boy. Look how afraid he is.”

  “Since when does the priesthood have jurisdiction in matters of treason?” The sergeant strutted to the front of the stage and stood by the base of the crane. “Why should we obey a priest who enjoys the comforts of the priest’s quarters and all the food he desires?”

  The sergeant grasped the underside of the crane with one hand and leaned out over the pit.

  The audience gasped.

  “When was the last time you saw a green cloak working in the fields?” The sergeant called out.

  Angry shouts rang out around the karst.

  The sergeant pushed himself back from the crane and stared at Jorad through narrowed eyes. “Why are you even here? Were you not told that all the priests have been commanded to attend the trial of the High Priest and his daughter?” He spread his arms wide to the audience. “Why should these people, who work all the segments in the fields, listen to a priest who refuses to follow the orders of the palace?”

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  Jorad stepped forward to reply, but the angry shouts of the crowd drowned him out.

  The sergeant grabbed the crane again and balanced himself on the edge of the pit. As the crowd hushed, he called out. “Since this renegade priest speaks on behalf of the gods, perhaps we should see if his god will proclaim him innocent in the karst.”

  The crowd cheered their approval and the sergeant nodded to his men. Before Jorad could pull out his knife to defend himself, the guards grabbed him and shackled him into the place formerly held by the drowned man. One tied a gag over Jorad’s mouth.

  Corvan looked along the row of men. The young boy was now on his feet, staring at him with desperate hope in his eyes. Corvan looked at Jokten in the cage and then down into the karst. The monster from his nightmares was hunched at the lower end of the island, staring over the water to where the drowned man’s body had disappeared under the rocks.

  The gears chattered again, the pulley creaked, and the cage resumed its descent. Jokten braced himself against the iron slats as the creature below lazily turned its head in his direction. An archer guarding the crane shouted at it, then loosed an arrow, the point sticking fast in the creature’s scaly shoulder. Leaping to its feet it bellowed at the archer, then, pulling the arrow out with its teeth, it stalked toward the descending cage.

  Fresh cheers from the crowd mixed with the bellows of the furious beast as it arrived in the killing circle below the swaying cage.

  If he was to help Jokten fight the creature he had to get down there—and fast. Corvan leaned over the edge. Could he dive into the water? No. At this spot, the rocky island was almost directly below the lip of the karst, the water shallow and strewn with boulders.

  Corvan briefly lost his footing, and someone pulled him back and hollered in his ear, “The beast will get enough to eat today without you falling in. We don’t have a rope long enough to pull you out.”

  He had completely forgotten his krypin rope! Releasing it from his belt loop, he anchored the disk just over the edge. Taking a deep breath, he spun around, stepped off the edge and dropped into the void. With the krypin tight in his hands, he let it stretch out to slow his descent. Just as the island came up to meet him, he let go, tumbling up in behind the high rocks that surrounded the killing circle.

  As he crept forward, the metal gears went silent, immediately followed by the animal’s howls of frustration. Corvan peered over the top of the rocks. The beast had hooked one claw into the bottom of the cage and was pulling back with all its might. On the platform overhead, the craned buckled and twisted. The beast yanked furiously, and the sergeant lost his balance, teetered on the edge, then leapt off the platform to grasp the rope. He tried desperately to climb back up to the tip of the crane but lost his grip and slid down until he was standing on the large hook that was attached to the top of the cage.

  The creature stared up at the sergeant with its back to Corvan. He moved in closer next to a tall rock and slid the black blade from its sheath. The sheer size of the animal filled him with cold dread. Stretched upright on its hind feet and pulling on the cage, it towered over him, easily twice his height.

  The screech of tearing metal rent the air as the cage tore free of the hook, crashing to the ground and spilling Jokten out its broken door. The sergeant shouted for help as he wedged his feet into the metal hook dangling from the rope. On the deck soldiers tried to turn the windlass and pull him back up but now the mechanism was hopelessly jammed.

  Again, the sergeant tried to climb the rope, but he only succeeded in making himself swing back and forth over the killing circle. Finally, he crouched down on the hook and waited for it to stop moving.

  In the dead silence that followed, the monster sat back on its haunches to watch the pendulum swings of the sergeant.

  The sergeant let go with one hand and gestured to where Jokten was struggling to his feet, the wooden spear hanging limply at his side. The old man stumbled on the broken bones and the beast turned its attention toward him. Leaving the broken cage, it moved slowly around the outer edge of the rocks to where Corvan was hiding. It stopped just in front of him and crouched low, the muscles in its shoulders tensing for the kill. Jokten stood staring in place, not even noticing Corvan immediately behind the monster.

  Raising the knife high, Corvan jumped up on a rock, then leapt onto the animal’s back, plunging the knife with all his strength into its thick neck. With a deafening roar, it rose up on its hind feet, carrying Corvan astride its back, his hands firmly clutched around the handle. The animal twisted and bucked, its body writhing like bands of steel beneath him and then Corvan flew through the air, slamming into a boulder with a bone-jarring thud, before tumbling to the ground behind two tall boulders.

  Dazed, he lay in a heap listening to furious bellows. Forcing his trembling limbs into motion he pulled himself up and leaned forward to peer out between two rocks.

  Jokten was nowhere to be seen, but the creature was leaning on the empty cage, blood running from its wound as it roared at the sergeant swinging above him on the hook. It must be thinking Corvan’s surprise attack had come from above.

  The sergeant shouted something about firesticks to his men on the platform. His garbled cries were finally understood and flaming sticks of all sizes fell to the ground around the broken cage. A small one landed by Corvan’s knee and when he brushed it aside, he discovered his numb hand still clutched the black knife.

  The beast stepped on one of the flaming sticks and howled in pain. Angrily tossing the cage to one side, it limped away from the ring of fire sticks burning below the sergeant. The scent of scorched fur stung Corvan’s nose.

  As the wounded creature sat down to lick its burnt paw, an eerie silence settled into the arena. Nothing moved except the sergeant struggling to stay balanced on the hook. He tried once more to climb but lost his grip, fell and barely managing to lock his legs into the hook, like an upside-down trapeze artist. The frantic movements made his body swung even farther outside from the protective circle of fire sticks that hissed like petrified snakes on the rocky floor below.

  The beast grunted, watched the swing out and back, waited until he drew close, then batted him off the hook. The sergeant hit the ground, scrambling on his hands and knees to pick up a fire stick but as he turned around, the massive animal pounced, crushing him onto the rocks.

  Slowly the black form rose from the ground and stood over the broken body, then shattered the air with a victorious roar that reverberated off the walls of the karst.

  The echoes faded but now the beast was staring beyond the broken cage to where the point of a spear moved in slow circles behind a loose pile of rocks.

  It had discovered Jokten’s hiding place.

  The huge creature moved cautiously through the scattered fire sticks, all the while keeping its eyes on the jerky movements of the spear tip. It passed by Corvan’s hiding place, muscles rippling beneath its hide.

  The old woman said the hammer didn’t work on animals, but Corvan drew it out anyways. The blue words shone out, his confidence was renewed and he slipped silently out behind the creature, hammer in one hand and the black knife in the other.

  As he readied himself for another charge, an arrow flew over his shoulder and dug into the calf of the beast. Bellowing, it spun around to see where the arrow had come from.

  Angry red eyes locked onto his and a dark fear devoured his will to move. The hammer slipped from his grasp and clattered onto the ground as the black knife slumped to hung limply at his side. The creature crouched low, ready to spring but Corvan could not make his body respond, its eyes held him fast.

  A sharp jab of pain in his shin pulled his eyes away from the creature’s gaze. A long firestick lay dripping at his feet.

  “Point it at the beast!” someone shouted. Corvan swept up the fire stick, directing its flaming end at the animal’s broad chest as it circled around him. “Don’t look at its eyes,” a familiar voice commanded.

  The crowd cheered as Corvan backed away. Over the beast’s shoulder, Corvan caught sight of Jokten shouting and waving his spear. He couldn’t understand what the man was trying to tell him until it was too late and the butt end of Corvan’s fire stick bit into the high rocks behind him.

  The monster had cornered him.

  With a blast of its rancid breath, it sprang. The fire stick was twisted from Corvan’s grasp as the weight of the massive beast pressed down, squeezing the last bit of breath from his body. The creature’s intense roar engulfed him in darkness until it seemed his head would burst, then suddenly it pulled away.

  Corvan blinked past the pain, expecting to see sharp teeth ready to devour him. Instead, he saw the animal clutching furiously at Corvan’s fire stick protruding from its chest. Roaring, it swiveled around. The fire stick had gone clear through its body and was still burning out its back.

  As it spun about, Corvan pushed himself up against the rocks at his back, then stumbled off to the side. The beast stopped twisting and faced him, its lips pulled back in a snarl. Corvan took two steps back and his feet splashed in the water as the cheers of the spectators above penetrated his deafened ears.

  Another arrow rattled off the stones at his feet and he finally understood.

  The arrows were meant for him. The crowd was cheering for their monster.

  As if it understood, the beast tipped its head back and roared up at the ring of eager faces, its energy renewed. Corvan moved back until the water was up to his shins, then slipped the knife back into its sheath. If it would follow him, he would swim away, hopefully it would drown and Jokten could be saved.

  Two more arrows whipped past him on either side, hemming him in.

  The wounded creature padded closer, then crouched to spring.

  Jokten appeared behind it, a spear in one hand and a triumphant smile on his face. The man nodded to Corvan, raised the spear’s haft high over his head and brought it swiftly down onto the fire stick protruding from the creature’s back.

  A blast of air and chunks of burning flesh hurled Corvan backward and he fell past the rocks into the deep water. As he sank the cold water cleared his head. Arrows were darting into the water around him. Rolling over he dived down, swimming underwater and in closer the edge of the karst, where the archers could not locate him.

  Fire sticks began gurgling around him. Dodging their bubbling flames, he dug fingers into cracks along the rocky wall, but the current grabbed him and dragged him away. Breaking the surface for fresh air, Corvan swam desperately to beat the current and get back to Jokten, but it was too strong and he was quickly pulled past the lower tip of the island.

  Just ahead a wide ledge swept down to meet the river and he dove under the surface swimming along with the current as fast as he could. Somewhere up ahead the underground river must emerge into the open air near the falls, but could he hold his breath that long? Panic grabbed him and he swam even faster.

  By the light of the fire sticks bubbling along beside him he could see the roof pulling away and he followed it upward, his lungs crying out for air. He pulled himself along the roof, gouging his hands on the rough surface. Panic gave way to desperation as his final breath began ebbing out past his lips.

  A fire stick shot toward him in a cloud of bubbles that rose up to a silver pocket of air.

  Just when he was about to give in and let the water fill his lungs, Corvan’s face broke through the silver circle. He took a deep breath and gagged. The air was stale and putrid. His breath came in fractured gasps, but the trapped air gave little satisfaction to his lungs.

  “You have to go on, there is not enough good air here.” The voice was murky, as if it was his own thoughts, but he followed through and ducked back into the current, his body twisting along in the bubbling froth.

  The dark shadow of a rocky outcrop loomed ahead, he tried to dodge to one side, but a flash of light filled his head before darkness closed in.

  https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/90135/the-cor-series