The Gauntlet by Megan Shepherd

Author:Megan Shepherd
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-03-16T04:00:00+00:00

23

Cora

CORA SLAMMED INTO A hard metal floor.

Bursts of pain radiated from her knees and palms. She took in the room in a daze: a ten-by-ten-by-ten cube, glowing panels on all sides, walls and floor and ceiling identical, so that she suddenly wasn’t certain which way was up. And the portal door . . .

The door was closing. She scrambled for the gap, trying to see through. Back in the central vestibule, two Axion guards were holding back Cassian. Mali and Leon were yelling something to Willa and Anya.

The door kept lowering. Five inches left. Four. Three.

“No!” she cried. “Wait!”

Fian’s boots suddenly loomed before the narrowing crack. He crouched to meet her gaze. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll handle your Warden.”

And the door sealed.

“No!” She clawed at the door, then pounded with her fists. Nothing. She shoved herself to her feet, breathing hard, pacing. Fian was planning something, she knew it. Something even worse than what he’d already done to Cassian.

She kicked the door one more time. Useless. It wouldn’t open again until the first round was complete. She spun back toward the chamber. She had to get through these puzzles—they were the only way back to Cassian.

She took a step forward, and the chamber went black.

She stopped. Blinked in the darkness. Cold air from unseen vents snaked up her ankles. She held out her hands and shuffled forward until she touched the place where she guessed the door had been. She felt for the seams, but they were gone. It was just a wall now, identical to every other side.

She raked her nails across her scalp. She closed her eyes, trying to send Cassian a psychic message. Cassian . . . answer me, please . . . But there was no response. The walls were thick, designed specifically to prevent telepathic communication.

She cursed.

Without warning, a rumble spread through the darkness, and she took a quick step away from the wall.

The lights flickered back on, blindingly bright.

She shaded her face with her hands, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest. The stock algorithm was capable of engineering any possible habitat or scenario; she could find herself on the edge of a cliff or charged by a lion—and there were no safeguards.

Die here, die for real.

The bright light faded and she was able to warily open her eyes, surprised to find herself still in the ten-by-ten-by-ten cube. No illusions or habitats. The only difference was that a small table had materialized in the center of the chamber: a wooden desk filled with blocks that looked like toys.

She eyed the table cautiously. She knew better than to trust anything that appeared so innocent. She turned back to the wall, resting her fingertips on the smooth surface.

I’m coming, Cassian, she thought. Hang on.

She drew in a steadying breath and approached the desk. There were nine blocks, each with a number printed on the top: 8, 105, 2, 34, 300, 1, 15, 90, 4. There had to be some pattern. She reached for the first block, but it was fastened to the table.

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