Each step up the ramp makes each breath in all the harder. There is a weight to the air, a sinking that makes my lungs ache with each inhale. The worst part is that I cannot tell if it is real or imagined. I lead us three, that was what we agreed, that is what I demanded. Exeter bless me, why had I demanded that? The crystal tied to one of the talismans tucked into my shirt thrums against my chest, such a small thing to pin my sanity upon.

  Pushing my foot into the white light spilling from the end of the ramp is a terrible effort, but my boot lands solid on the stone. I am almost at the lip, where the last cinders of some blaze I caused in the time I lost continues to smolder. A shadow passes over the light, and I almost cry out, cringing back against the wall. Then it is gone, and the sound of conflict above continues on without change in its tempo. I inch closer, the lip of the floor above coming closer and closer into view, and then I see it. It is every bit the bloody horror that I expected, a golden circle of blood and terror that grows all the more horrible as it moves to the center.

  There are more people in there now than I remember, eleven maybe. At the edge of the room, two women circle one another, each with a sword in a hand, striking without care or skill at one another, their clothes sliced and bloody. Further toward the middle a man kneels on another man’s chest, fist pumping up and down, raining blows on to someone that might already be dead. Opposite him on the other side of the room, almost exactly opposite, an elven man and one of the tall green-haired women kneel with their hands wrapped around each other’s throats, leaning this way and that in their attempt to strangle the other. Three strides closer to the center from them Coriander drags a dagger over her skin, giggling as she cuts into the back of her arm, drawing a red line that continues all the way up to her shoulder, tearing one sleeve to cloth. When she reaches the shoulder, she pulls the blade away, tosses it to her other hand, and starts anew on the other arm. Just in front of the dais, not further than an arm’s length away, three naked competitors paw and rip at the corpse of a woman, pulling out its innards and stuffing them down their throats.

  In the center of the room, that monster continues to linger, its own meal stripped now of all clothes and any shred of remaining dignity. It has worked its way down to the elbow now, even the bone snapping and splintering beneath its flat, white teeth. It sits cross-legged in a silver chair set into the center of the dais that I did not see before, beneath the sprinkling light of the crystal in the ceiling, rainbows roaming over its dead and stretched skin cast off by the spinning ball of crystal just four feet above its head. The whole room shakes, bits of dust raining from the ceiling, though no one inside seems to notice or mind.

  My stomach clenches and I find myself sliding down against the wall, all the strength in my feet suddenly gone. The incline scoots me ever so gently down the slope, and I do not fight it. I settle, staring down at shaking hands only a few feet from where I stood just a moment before. Those few feet are a godsend.

  “What is it?” Dovik crouches in front of me, clear worry on his face. “Is it in there?”

  I look up. My teeth click, trying to make words, but what words are there? In the end, all I can do is nod.

  “I’m taking a look,” Jor’Mari says, creeping closer. The pale man’s face moves into the light, eyes peering over the edge, and it only takes a moment for his face to change. He moves back, stumbles a step, and catches himself against the wall.

  “Now you are making me nervous,” Dovik swears, a strained attempt at levity in his voice.

  “I don’t know what I could have expected,” Jor’Mari says, looking over at me. “That is what a rank three monster is?”

  “It is,” I say, finally finding the breath for words.

  “Fuck.”

  “I am going to need to look at some point.” Dovik swallows hard, gingerly trading places with Jor’Mari, easing his way up the ramp with his back to the wall. I press my back to the wall, forcing myself to stand, the crippling horror slowly turning to watery dread and an instinctive desire to be anywhere else. Dovik’s face twists into expressions I’ve never seen before as he peers over the edge. He only takes an instant to take in the sight, pulling back and sneaking away from the white light, but who would need longer than that? “Three hells…three hells…”

  He wraps a hand around the hilt of his odd weapon, knuckles turning white as he squeezes the grip. Dovik looks at me. “Do you still want to go first?”

  “No,” I say, and shame joins the emotion boiling in my gut. “The last thing I want.” Exeter knows it’s true. I step forward, knowing that I have to be the first in.

  Jor’Mari is stuck in his form that makes him a magical defense specialist, one he adopted when he first began to face off against Lady Forendous. If he hadn’t been that way whenever this madness swept down over everyone, he would likely have been claimed by it too. We haven’t tried to test that theory. As he is, I am faster than him, far faster than Dovik as it turns out. I have seen what that monster can do, seen the consequences of not being fast enough. Scared as I am, about ready to piss myself as I am, I’m not willing to risk their lives because of it. I distract it, one of them finds the controls to open the door, and then we pray that there is someone left alive to make it outside. Not a great plan, and I gave myself the worst role–the only one in our group that might survive the role. Why do I have to be so damned practical?

  Jor’Mari puts his hand between my shoulder blades, a strong hand, steadying me as I inch up the wall toward the light again. “Get its attention and run,” he whispers in my ear. “We will do the rest. You will be great. I won’t let anything go wrong.” He says it while trying to stick on his usual smirk, trying to look as if he is in full and utter control of the situation when we both well know otherwise.

  “I’m good at running from monsters,” I say. Who knows, it might even turn out to be true. Despite myself, I lean back into his hand, let the strength in his fingers support me a bit, a little bit of solace in this nightmare. I need it just then.

  Fire spreads out over my naked right hand, the gauntlet gone back into my inventory with the rest of my broken armor. A miserly part of my soul keeps my weapons back too, would rather not lose them, and it isn’t as if I am aiming to do a lot of damage to the monster. Would probably be better for me if I didn’t.

  I take a deep breath as I step into the light, my feet carrying me beyond, up the final rise of the ramp and onto the flat stone of the circular room. The boys are just behind me, Dovik’s fingers twitching over the grip of his weapon, Jor’Mari’s hands curling into fists, releasing, and squeezing shut once more.

  None of the mad competitors or the monster in the center of the room pay us any mind as we come up. The fencing women have stopped at the other side of the room, one down on a knee, fending off darting stabs as she holds a hand to a bleeding hole in her gut. The three savages have apparently had their fill of intestine and work at stripping the skin from their victim. They’re all victims I suppose, but some more than others. Mana pours into my hand, and my sight falls on Coriander. She has finished decorating her arms and is in the process of pricking one pale thigh with the tip of her dagger, wincing at the pain, and cackling out a laugh before she does it again.

  The snapping of bone drags me back to look at the monster sitting on that silver seat. A pink bone sticks from its dead and cracked lips, each movement of its jaw splintering the pieces. It looks almost thoughtful, head tilted up to the right like it is trying to remember the punchline to some joke.

  My hand is like a boulder, it takes all of my strength just to lift it the barest amount. I feel the two men behind me move, readying themselves for the brief and deadly action to come. I realize that I am still holding my breath, but I don’t exhale, entirely unwilling to take in this foul air. Hair stands on end across my clammy skin, and I feel a tear trying to slip its way free of my eye. Ironic, being unable to cry for so long, but here I have to hold myself back. Is that ironic? I don’t know. Gods, help me.

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  The bolt of fire rips free of my fingers as if it has a mind of its own. I let out my breath, shocked that I went and did it, even more shocked as the spark of fire flies straight past the monster, missing its head by a good half foot. The fire explodes against the wall, the blast enough to knock over a woman with a sword before she can land the killing blow on her opponent. Have I ever missed before? Just now, I can’t ever recall a time.

  The monster sits in its chair, one creeping finger bending up to scratch at its chin.

  Dovik steps out past me, his long coat billowing as his arm swings down. The firepoker I have never seen him without shoots across the short distance like a spear, his aim immaculate. The point of it impacts the side of the monster’s cheek, making a sound like someone striking a gong, the flesh of its face not even pushed back the barest bit. The weapon flips in the air, spinning across the room, clanging against the far wall and rolling into the disappearing depths of one of the ramps, rattling metallically as it slips out of sight. The monster turns its head, lazy, more bored than put out, bringing the three vertical blades of its face to bear on us three.

  Then it is among us, standing in the center of us three. How had I not noticed its height before, it towers over even Jor’Mari. Any thought of out running this creature flies out of my head. It looks down at Dovik and I notice the slightest vibration of the three blades punching out of the blank space where its face ought to be. Blood splashes over my right eye, leaving me half blind. Dovik is gone, loose fabric fluttering down through the air, flung out of sight down the ramp we stand at the precipice of, out into the dark.

  Jor’Mari is swinging, the head of his invisible mace thudding into the back of the monster. It stutters forward a step, catching its balance. It has him so fast my mind can’t keep up with it. Its horrible hands are wrapped around Jor’Mari’s throat, lifting him off the ground. The man is so surprised that he doesn’t start kicking at it for a full second. Each thud of his boot into the monster’s legs, stomach, bare groin sounds like someone hitting a tree with a switch and seems about as effective. Black veins start begin to stand out against Jor’Mari’s skin from where it holds him by the throat, crawling upward, spreading out. In hardly any time his kicking grows weak before fading all together, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, milky white.

  I remember the doors, escaping this tower, getting away from this thing. Desperation cracks the ice in my bones more than any real thought. My foot slides back, just a single step, but that one step takes such an effort.

  A flicker of movement. My limp body is slapped so powerfully through the air that it feels almost as if the golden railing in the center of the room crashes against my back at the same time the back of the monster’s hand hits my chest. A crack rattles up my spine. The back of my head hits the seat of the silver chair. A choking moment as strings snap around my neck, the last clear sound talismans clattering to the metal floor. I lay limp, seeing black, my head and shoulder laying across the chair, both legs draped over the rail, arm falling and grazing the ground. A wetness dribbles out of the corner of my mouth, spit or blood, who can say.

  My foot buzzes, both do, not much pain. There is a light in the dark, and then it isn’t dark at all, everything white, bright, tinkling crystal just above me. Two actually, held in an eclipse from this spot. They are so pretty.

  Someone is tickling my neck, then I realize it is my own hand. It doesn’t really feel like it belongs to me. Something wet slides down my forearm, a single long line of cold that collects on my pointer finger and drips away.

  A problem that I didn’t even know I was working at clicks into place in my mind. Ah, it doesn’t hate noise. No, cowardice is what it hates. Babbling idiot, my limp hand dropping both my nerve and my staff, my stupid foot trying to back away. Such obvious sense now that I can see it from this angle. It’s kind of funny. No, not really funny at all. Instead of a laugh, a bubble of bloody spit pops out of my mouth, painting my chin red. That’s not very funny either.

  The pain still doesn’t come, probably not a good thing. My head feels wet and the seat I half lay upon bounces in time with the room’s jumping. Thud, thud, thud. Is someone going to get the door?

  A shadow falls over the light, and then it is there, towering over me, its horrible and bladed non-face staring down. It smiles, almost disarming how genuine that smile is. It’s hand curls around my right ankle, gentle, lifting my leg until I am staring up at my boot. That banging continues. There is the pain–in the back of my head. My numb fingers bump against something. Guess I have to get the door. That’s Halford’s job, lazy bum.

  My boot comes apart like wet paper beneath its hand. Somehow, I had expected magical footwear to be a bit tougher. It inspects my naked toes. I keep them clean and presentable, thank you very much. Then it opens its mouth wide, pink spit dripping from its teeth, and I think all of a sudden that it might not just be admiring my foot. It occurs to me as it pulls my leg up to its mouth, I should be doing something, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what.

  A wind whips past, carrying the monster off with it, jerking my leg to the side. The bone of my ankle slaps hard into the golden railing, shooting pain up through my leg that clears the fog a bit as I flop out of the chair and onto the floor. The noise, everyone in the room crying out at once, chasing away the rest. I stare up, the world more full of color than just the black and white now, terrible pain in my back, my head, and now my leg. How I miss the numb stupidity.

  Above my head, my hand is wrapped tight around a golden lever set into the floor next to two others. Everyone in the room other than me is screaming bloody murder; the only reason I’m not is because it is so damned hard to breathe. The competitors already spread out through the room claw at themselves, their voices a choir of fear and horror, either at what they’ve done or what was done to them, probably both. Jor’Mari screams at the edge of the room, sunlight from the open door he sits near washing over him. A man, not that big of a man, dressed in ragged, somewhat bloody clothes, screams in anger, fists pumping into the chest of the monster he has up against the wall, the stone behind cracking in a spiderweb with each incredible blow.

  Panic, blind and awful, spreads through the room. The draw of sunlight from the now open doors offer something similar to hope, and people start fleeing toward the light, either trying to escape the unfolding battle to one side of the room or the horror show. I try to use the lever to pull myself up. Exeter’s balls, I’m tired. The lever I am holding onto is pointed the wrong way to help me any, so I select another, but all that does is pull that lever down. A bloody sigh escapes my lips, and I stare up, so tired, watching as that crystal ball starts to descend out of the air, the cascading rainbows it throws off a wonderful contrast to the gore. I can almost reach out, touch it, but even that seems like too much work.

  My head falls to the side, my cheek smudged against my own bloody spit on the floor, watching people disappear through the open doorways. Good for them, they’ve probably seen the worst of this whole thing.

  I see Coriander. She stumbles, braces herself against the arch of a doorway, each step she takes a stumbling limp. Her many cuts and knife wounds bleed, but she is walking all the same, the sunlight only making her look all the more beautiful for her evident hardship. She stops, turns back to look into the room, and our eyes meet for a moment. She lingers there, looking down at me as I lay on the floor in the middle of the room. A smile tickles at the corner of her lips, a small thing, but I spot the pearly white of her perfect teeth through it. She turns away, limping out into the light, disappearing.

  I see it, the image stained in my mind, seeming so much closer than it had been. That smile of hers. How can she smile like that? How? How? How?

  It is not such an effort anymore to grab the seat of the chair, to grunt and strain, sliding backward and letting my feet clatter off the rail and onto the floor. Not such an impossible task to let loose my own scream as I claw up the seat, setting my weight onto my legs, finding them willing to bear my weight, far more willing than able. Fire pours through my veins, that familiar anger, that delicious hate, so close and ready at my fingertips it is a wonder that I ever lost it. My hand lashes out, wrapping around the crystal ball, finding it solidly fixed in the air enough that I can pull myself to standing with it. Best not to leave it.

  I almost trip on my first step, my naked right foot sliding in the ick on the floor, but the railing saves me. My next step is steadier, and the pain down my back that shoots with each step only spurs me forward. I roll over the railing, clattering to the ground, scrambling up and lurching forward. Toward the door, then through. Now I have my feet, and I am running down a rocky decline. A road cut into a warm cliffside stretches out in front of me, the climbing trees of the forest down one side, a solitary figure limping down the road ahead of me.

  Unintelligible yells boil out of me as I run headlong downslope. I see Coriander’s head turn ahead, look back to find me chasing after, and her limping speeds up. I am gaining on her. I’ll have her, soon, finally.

  “Leave me alone!” she screams, turning, limping to the side, head turning between me and the road ahead. “Stop! Haven’t I suffered enough?!”

  Not by me. My fist cracks into her jaw, tossing her back against the rocky side of the road that is still solid. I trip, knee skidding across the rocks, opening new cuts, but I am beyond caring. “You tried to kill me.”

  Her head is shaking as she presses herself to the rocks. All the grace is gone from my legs as I limp toward her, fire spreading over my clenched fist.

  My hand comes up; Exeter forgive me, I want this so bad. I almost feel his blessing as the clouds part for an instant, giving us the best light. The light dazzles off something on her chest, a jewel, a gem, a necklace maybe.

  “You deserve it!” she yells, grabbing the sparkling thing as my arm swings down.

  My fire and anger falls through empty air. The world is dark, nothing all around me, and the hate drains out of me like water in a sifter. The world has vanished, and I stand cold, hollow, in endless dark.

  “Where?”

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