Stumbling back to my feet on the other side, I clocked the raised plateaued expanse of the opposite side of Mesmoria.
I had been to this side of the island once, and I recognized the tip of the abandoned bridge barely visible beyond the perimeters as I continued running. It was a failed effort that the Ascendancy had undertaken long ago to build a path between our isle to its nearest cousin in the archipelago. Futile efforts to expand our reach weren’t uncommon. Ten years ago, the Ascendancy had sent an Arc out on a failed mission beyond the limits of the outermost island to try to find more land and more Starshells. The lost Arc had never returned.
The backside of Mount Kael was strikingly beautiful from this angle, where the jungle at the base was lusher.
The fire in my muscles was beginning to spread, now my shoulders and sides were starting to burn as well. These speeds were viable for a while longer yet, but they were not sustainable for the entire Mistrun. There would be at least two more obstacles before the finish line if the spacing between them was any indication, and sweat and exhaustion was becoming a real hindrance.
Wiping a tired arm across my forehead, I bought myself precious seconds of cleared visibility before more sweat began to drip from my eyebrows.
The next obstacle grew larger with my approach. It was a cobbled stone wall barrier, toweringly high. From that height, you would break more than your leg if you fell. You’d break all your coconuts.
As if the sheer vertical wall weren't enough of an obstacle, people who had reached it were shouting, grabbing at blood-spattered shoes. It looked like they'd planted something nasty in the sand in front of it.
My lips pressed together. Walls were my strength. I could scale this wall.
A few of the fastest runners were already reaching the top of the wall, including the woman I'd seen who had given me the arrogant look. She wore a pretty smile, reaching out a hand to a man below her to help him up. He took it.
It took several seconds for me to process what happened next.
The male contestant was falling, and his body hit the ground with a loud thud and several sickening cracks.
My eyes went wide, racing back up to the top of the wall. The woman was still smiling, already turning to start down the other side. She'd dropped him. And it hadn't been an accident.
The nearest official rushed forward, bending over to check the man for injuries. He wasn’t moving.
My heart was pounding even faster staccato. The burly man from before wasn’t nearly as dangerous as that woman.
There wasn’t any time to dwell on it further, as I was mere steps away from the base of the wall and still had no idea what had injured the feet of the other competitors.
Squinting, I searched for any clue about what the trap might be.
It didn't take long to pick out the small sharpened spikes of mangrove, barely visible, sticking up out of the sand. Both of the twins, who were running ahead of me, had plucked out mangrove spears and were carrying them as they ran.
This was so much more savage than the previous Mistruns I'd witnessed as a child. Why was this year's race so much more brutal? Maybe I had been naive, and hadn’t noticed the brutality in former years. It seemed significantly worse up close.
The wooden spikes were interspersed at far enough intervals that they could be dodged either by tiptoeing through them, or with a timed lunge to the wall.
Too much momentum propelled me forward before I could stop in time for any delicate footwork. Lunge it was.
Crouching down as I neared the edge of the spikes, I pumped with what little energy remained in my legs to reach the wall.
Too late, I realized there were no handholds in this wall to grab onto.
Rookie mistake. You know better.
Scrambling desperately as I slid down, my fingernails dug into the stone to try to find a hold. I was slipping, my boots kicking to find any small dent. The tangy sourness of fear throbbed in the back of my throat.
At the last second, I caught a groove in the rock, holding on even as my weight nearly pulled my arm out of its socket. I swung for a few seconds, side to side, trying to locate another grip.
Fortunately, I found one, nearly out of reach. Hanging on, my arms now joined in the burn that had reached every other muscle. I allowed myself two full seconds to catch my breath and let my pulse slow down.
Then I was kicking with my feet to find any indent they could use to help in my ascent, slowly climbing to the top. My grip strength was waning from repeated abuse.
The mangrove trap at the bottom was sure to slow down anyone who didn't notice it in time and injured their feet. Straddling the top of the wall and looking back, I could see at least another few dozen people running toward this obstacle.
I paid the price for looking back.
One of the twins was nearby, and he lunged toward me with his pilfered spear aimed at my leg. Reformatory instincttook over, and I twisted out of the way at the last moment. There was finite room to maneuver. It had been a clumsy lunge, and he was slow to recover. Grabbing his wrist, I twisted until a snap rang out. He screamed, dropping the spear and cradling his wrist.
