Page 202 of The Mortal Trials

I motion for Koda to move on without me before my rusted joint gets us both killed.

He shakes his head and points to his ears. I don’t hear anything at first, and then… It’s faint, but the sounds of hooves striking stone are unmistakable.

Several unbridled horses thunder down the bridge. Confused, the troll doesn’t know which of us to target first.

Right behind the desperate stallions sneaks a tight cluster of chariots, their cabs full of contestants squeezed in tight.

Forgetting the sound I made, the troll focuses on catching the distraction.

The behemoth plucks a stallion in one hand, holding the screaming horse as it grabs another with its free hand. One, two, three groups race past in quick succession.

August’s chariot slows. Niall waits inside, swiftly pulling Koda and me into the cart. Balancing as best I can with my damaged prosthesis, I turn and point my spear at the rocky beast in case it takes a swipe at us.

Aymes snaps the reins, driving the warhorses between the frantic, unbridled stallions still trotting this way and that.

One of the equines gets too close to the side wall and topples over it.

A few more chariots close the gap behind us.

We’re going to make it!

Bolts of lightning strike on all sides, as if the gods are angry we found a way through their well-laid trap.

I look back to see two contestants enter the bridge. Both chariots are damaged, but the closest is worse. It limps with a wheel barely hanging onto the axel; the other driver struggles but can’t maneuver past it.

A mountainous hand swipes the limping chariot off the bridge.

The troll raises his hand and slams it into the center of one of the bridge’s arches, a huge section breaking away and falling into the gorge. The contender is forced to turn back toward the salt flats. He’ll be abandoned if he can’t find a way to the finish line.

In a rage, the troll breaks another massive arch, this one just behind us. Too close.

“Get us off this thing!” Niall shouts to August.

At the bridge’s end, I see the glowing finish line.

Niall shrieks and I brace for impact as the troll’s hand swipes toward us. August snaps the reins, driving the warhorses through the portal full stride.

We race onto the sandy floor of a massive arena. August pulls the reins hard, teeth gritted and muscles straining. We narrowly avoid one of the other chariots before the warhorses canter sideways and stop. Niall, Koda, and I cling to the chariot’s sides so we aren’t dumped out and trampled.

Our stallions rear, one after the other, before settling back down. Niall helps Koda down and offers me a hand. My prosthesis is stuck in a partial bend. I accept his hand and watch as August steps down from the chariot.

The four of us stand amid our peers, squinting against the sun burning high and bright in the cloudless sky. Warmth stings our frozen skin. Water drips and sluices off us. And the crowd… the crowd in the colosseum roars.

Fists pump in the air. Flags are waved – black for Niall, lavender for the championed girl, and white – so many white flags – for the unchampioned.

My memory flashes back to a battlefield with a large white flag waving far in the distance. It should have stopped the fighting…

I blink, reeling in my thoughts and emotions.

The mortals shout to us, for us. Their words bleed together, indistinguishable.

The other contenders arrive in groups and one on horseback alone.

The spear is cold and heavy in my hand. Are we expected to fight one another for their enjoyment after what we just survived?

Dionysus pours glasses of wine for the divine, who mingle and feast in a lavish box on the shaded side of the arena. Eventually, Hermes flies down from the comfort of their secluded luxury and lands on the sand with a bemused smile and a golden laurel crown on his forearm.

Does this mean it’s over?