Page 53 of Kiss of Embers
Shouts filled the air, and I ran faster. I’d lost valuable time doubling back for Zara. Now, other competitors had caught up to me.
More details appeared as I neared the cliff’s edge. Thick ropes dangled over the chasm like something out of a Tarzan movie. Several contestants clung to them, swinging in greatarcs as they maneuvered from rope to rope. Easy enough for someone with an immortal’s strength and stamina.
Except each rope was on fire.
The scent of ash and smoke hit my nostrils as I stopped at the chasm’s edge. Smoke rolled across the void in great, noxious clouds. High overhead, a roaring fire formed a seething, flickering ceiling. An illusion, but a damn convincing one.
The fire was real enough, though. A fae on one of the ropes yelped as the blaze reached his hands. Gritting his teeth, the man launched his body through the air, releasing the first rope and catching the next. The rope he’d abandoned swung wildly, the flames continuing to descend the braided hemp. The rope above the blaze remained intact, unscathed by the fire.
The pattern repeated on all the ropes. Beads of fire rolled down each length, smoking and crackling before dropping into the abyss. Then a new bead formed at the top, and the process started all over again.
A burly werewolf on one of the ropes bellowed as the fire above him began to descend more quickly. He arched his back, clearly trying to create the momentum he needed to leap for the next rope.
Finn materialized next to me, his face a mask of worry. He’d caught up to me after we left the lake the first time, both of us beset by a sense of impending doom. We’d agreed for him to continue the challenge while I circled back to check on Zara.
“Did you find her?” he asked now.
“Aye. She’s finishing in the lake.” The fire sizzled down the werewolf’s rope. He slid several feet down the hemp. I winced. Rope burns were a special kind of torment.
“She’s well?”
The werewolf arched again, then flung himself to the next rope. For a split second, he looked like he’d judged it too short. Then he snagged the rope one-handed, his arm muscles bulgingwith the effort. He swung in a wide arc before he steadied himself.
“Struan!”
I looked at Finn, whose expression had gone from anxious to exasperated. “She’s fine,” I said. “I rescued her.” Anticipation coiled within me, and I heard the huskiness in my voice as I added, “I expect she’ll be grateful later on.”
“Or she’ll take you to task for intervening.”
The anticipation coiled more tightly. I turned my attention to the werewolf, but my head filled with visions of Zara doing indecent things. “She can take me to task,” I said throatily.
Finn watched the wolf land safely on the opposite cliff before turning back to me. “You should get moving. Unless you’re having too much fun watching sweaty men swing on ropes.”
I huffed. “You’ve done your share of watching.”
He channeled behind me and spoke in my ear. “I’d stick around and watchyou, but I have a challenge to win. Don’t be too long.” He pinched my ass. By the time I spun around, he’d channeled away.
“Wanker,” I muttered, rubbing my abused posterior. He’d obviously tested Bolveg’s shortcuts rule. No surprise, Finn only had to “experience” the obstacle once. He’d crossed the ropes while I went back for Zara, which meant he could channel directly to the air obstacle.
Which meant he was probably going to take first place. Well, no matter. Zara was more important.
But I still needed to shave as much time off my finish as I could. I backed up a few paces. Wiping my palms on my pants, I eyed the closest rope. When the fire reformed at the very top, I sprinted to the edge of the cliff and jumped.
The rope smacked into my palms. My stomach flipped over as I swung through the air, my feet gliding above the abyss. The earthy stench of burnt hemp stung my nostrils. Smokeswirled around me as I swung like a pendulum toward the next rope. Falling would be inconvenient, but it posed no danger considering I could simply take shadow form and return to the top of the cliff. But starting over would cost precious time and energy, so I tightened my grip and focused on the rope. I had to time it perfectly…
Heat built above my head. The bead of fire approached. The flames wouldn’t burn me, but they’d be a nuisance. I arched as I’d seen the werewolf do, swinging my legs to create more momentum. Wind whistled in my ears as I rode the rope upward and then back down, streaking toward the next fiery lifeline.
As the heat licked at the top of my head, I released my rope and caught the next one. Prickly hemp bit into my palms, and smoke swirled around my legs as I swung over the abyss. Fire swept down the rope on a collision course with my hands. With a burst of strength, I flung myself toward the next rope—and caught it.
Triumph surged. Maybe I’d best Finn, after all. Using my momentum, I sailed to the next rope.
Release. Catch.
Too easy. Through fire and smoke, I swung my way over the chasm, my gaze on the safety of the cliff’s edge. My movements became automatic, my muscles fueled by adrenaline and the urge to put the entire challenge behind me. The occasional flame danced over my skin, the fire tickling without burning. The beads continued on their path and dropped into the chasm like fiery tears.
My heart raced, and sweat dotted my forehead. The cliff face loomed.Almost there.
Release. Catch.