Page 19 of Starside

Kira is slow, bleeding profusely, but I drag her up with me, my legs burning. Thunderous hooves drown out the clashing of weapons, and we leap out of the way just before horses with House Bolter crests on their armor nearly trample us. They’re carrying Cadoc, who is tucked between two warriors, covered by their shields.

Pathetic.

Many more have passed now, not bothering to stop and kill us, caring more about getting a seat on a horse. I wonder if there are any left. I wonder if I should have just left Kira to die.

But I pull us both up the hill until we see them. A line of horses. All of them taken.

No—not all.

Two, side by side, in the back, without riders. We run. Steps rumble behind us.

“Go!” I scream, and Kira is breathing wildly as she throws herself onto the first horse. I fling myself onto mine, a great brown one with a white marking on its forehead. Someone tries to pull me off by my foot, but I kick, and they go down.

And then I’m seated.

We made it.

Kira is still bleeding, but she’s beaming.

A few others stumble out of the forest. Even more don’t make it out of the trees at all. We hear the cries of the dying, begging for help. Begging for someone to come back. The young boy from the platform … I don’t see him. I wonder if he’s one of those voices. Bury it down, I remind myself. Your empathy is a liability. I look around at those who have claimed a seat and find Zane. Cadoc, of course. All four Enders. Waldron, the sick bastard. The archer, with dark hair. A few others I recognize. One person is markedly missing.

That’s when I spot Harlan Raker, still at the edge of the forest, leaning against one of the only remaining trees.

He’s just … watching.

Even with that massive sword at his back, it doesn’t take long for him to make it up the hill. It’s useless, though. There aren’t any horses left. Challengers have already turned toward the castle. They’ve already begun the journey to the king.

Just when I think Raker has been left behind, he reaches back and launches his sword through the air in a glimmering blur. It flies as fast as an arrow, with just as much precision.

And pierces right through Waldron’s chest. He slumps forward.

Raker outstretches his hand—

And the sword cuts back through Waldron, before returning to Raker’s fist.

My mouth goes dry.

Magic. The sword … it has magic. And Raker knows how to use it. My blood is roaring. I’ve never seen a weapon do that before.

Waldron’s lifeless body slides off the horse.

Raker takes his place.

Silence.

Somewhere nearby, I hear Zane say, “Welcome to the Culling.”

5

The king has invited his surviving challengers to a feast.

We’re forced to leave our weapons at the door with his guards. Killing isn’t allowed inside, because, according to the Watchman, “The king thinks there are too many gods-damned wraiths already haunting the castle.” He looks around at us. “The dead don’t stay quiet here. Kill someone within these walls, and the king will have you hanged on the closest cliffs.”

The castle itself has magic. All the Great Houses do.

I can feel it in the air like a whisper upon my skin as I walk over the threshold.

Someone shoves me to the side with their shoulder, and I would have cracked my head against the obsidian floor if it wasn’t for Kira keeping me upright.