Page 37 of Starside

One by one, challengers start jumping down. How many were ahead? How many have already gone through? I swing to a lower branch.

An arrow slices away a curl of bark an inch in front of my face.

Valen. I see her in another tree. The Culling is far from over.

I scramble down and run, jumping over what’s left of the bodies. Another arrow whistles nearby, but I use the trees as cover. I run as fast as I can with this blade on my back. All that’s on my mind are those gates.

The forest ends—

And there they are.

The gates that divide our lands are tall enough to scrape the clouds. They’re crafted from pure, sparkling Starside steel, hewn into curling currents of wind and waves and flames, as if casted by the elements themselves. A wall of ancient, unyielding energy pulses from its glimmering metal. The sword on my back jerks against my spine, as if it can feel it too.

Only a deep trench and the long stone bridge across it sits between our side and theirs.

I’m so close.

The bridge isn’t narrow, but it doesn’t have sides. The drop must be hundreds of feet, maybe more. Mist clouds everything below. Challengers have already started down it—more than fifty. But the gates are still closed. There’s still time.

I run. Muscles already aching, breath raw in my lungs, I take off toward the silver gates, panting. This is the last step of the Culling. I’m too close not to make it.

My new sword is heavy on my back, slowing me down but invigorating me all the same. This ancient weapon saw something in me worth claiming. Just as Stellan saw in me something worth saving.

I will make it through. I will be one of the Fifty.

Suddenly, the bridge lurches, and I go flying. I land roughly, rolling, body scraping against the rock, until I flatten myself, holding on however I can. I fight to remain in the center as the edges of the bridge crumble away. One of the challengers ahead falls right over the side. His scream is swallowed up by the drop.

The gates have started to open.

They are magnificent, shining, rattling the very foundation of this world as they reveal a slice of green on the other side. A shade of the color I’ve never seen before. One I didn’t even know could exist.

I’m flung again as the gates settle. They’re open.

They’re open.

We all get to our feet and run.

There are more than fifty challengers in front of me. An arrow flies past my ear and takes one down. Then another.

Still, too many remain.

The first challenger is almost through. He punches his blade right up toward the sky, as if he’s trying to stab it, unleashing a victorious bellow. And then—

No one ever mentioned this. Even the most far-fetched legends about the gates and the Questral never mentioned dozens of hill-sized creatures barreling through the gap.

Right toward us.

Fuck.

The first challenger turns around, and I’m close enough to see the whites of his eyes before one of the beasts swallows him whole.

FUCK!

We all turn and run in the opposite direction.

I make it all of three steps before I hit the ground. Someone’s hand is wrapped around my ankle—a man holding on for dear life as he’s dragged back by one of the creatures. He’s taking me with him, my stomach grating against the stone. I kick against his hold, but it stays strong. Desperate. His nails claw at my skin. The beast opens its jaw, and he slides inside, screaming for help. Then, his pull goes limp.

All that’s left is his arm, his fingers still locked around my ankle. With trembling hands, I tear it away, then get back on my feet, and make a run for it while the creature is distracted.