Free Web NovelChapter 23: Trial of Sylas [3]
Arthur stumbled out of the blinding light, his boots hitting solid stone. The door vanished behind him, replaced by a seamless wall.
The white light faded into a dim, ambient silver glow.
He was standing on a narrow platform in a massive circular chamber. Before him was a seemingly bottomless chasm. In the center of his platform stood a lone stone pedestal. Across the dark abyss, three small, glowing runes pulsed on the distant wall at different heights.
His left arm throbbed violently. The caustic poison was burning through his veins, steadily draining his stamina.
He didn’t have time to rest.
Arthur stepped up to the pedestal. The objective was obvious. He needed to bridge the gap by hitting the runes. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, knocked it, and raised the ashwood longbow.
He pulled the string.
Instantly, the gravity in the room shifted. A crushing weight slammed down on his shoulders. His arms felt like lead. The standard fifty-pound draw suddenly felt like pulling a hundred and fifty pounds.
At the exact same moment, a ghostly, howling wind whipped up from the chasm, blowing erratically across the chamber.
Arthur gritted his teeth, fighting the immense pressure, and released. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com
Thwip. Thunk. The first rune went dark. He quickly knocked a second arrow, fighting the crushing gravity to pull the string back.
Thwip. Thunk.
The second rune went dark. He reached for his third arrow. His muscles were screaming. He locked his arm, drew the heavy string, and fired just as a violent gust of wind swept upward.
Clack.
The arrow slammed into the bare stone wall, completely missing the third rune. It plummeted into the abyss.
Instantly, the first two runes lit back up. He had to hit all three in rapid succession.
"Damn it," Arthur cursed, lowering the bow.
He tried again. He pulled through the crushing gravity, his newly healed lungs burning for oxygen. He hit the first two, but the shifting wind pushed his third arrow wide.
He missed again. And again.
His fingertips cracked and started to bleed from the rough friction of the bowstring. He was wasting arrows he couldn’t retrieve. The poison in his arm was rapidly sapping his endurance.
He knocked another arrow for his fifth attempt. His arms were violently trembling. He pulled the string back to his cheek, his muscles straining to their absolute breaking point.
Just as he reached full draw, his bloody fingers slipped.
SNAP!
The heavy bowstring lashed forward with brutal force. It whipped directly against his inner left forearm, striking dead center on the poisoned claw marks.
The string tore clean through the leather armor and ripped his damaged skin open.
"Argh!" Arthur yelled, his hand springing open from the blinding pain.
The bow slipped from his grip. It clattered against the edge of the stone platform and tipped over the chasm.
Arthur lunged forward. He snatched the wooden limb right before it fell, his upper body dropping off the ledge. His right shoulder jerked violently, a sharp pop echoing in his joint as it took his full falling weight.
He hauled himself and the bow back onto the platform, panting heavily.
He sat on the cold stone. Blood dripped steadily from his fingers and his mangled left forearm.
He couldn’t afford another mistake.
Arthur tore a long strip of fabric from the bottom of his undershirt. He wrapped it tightly around his bleeding, poisoned arm, pulling it tight with his teeth to bind the wound.
He stood back up and picked up the bow.
He didn’t draw immediately. He closed his eyes. Instead of fighting the environment, he let his unnaturally sharp perception expand. He listened to the howling wind. He felt the shift in the air pressure against his skin.
It wasn’t entirely random. The ghostly wind had a rhythm. There was a brief, two-second lull between the shifting gusts.
He opened his eyes. He knocked an arrow and waited.
The wind howled. Then, it dipped.
Arthur pulled the string. The crushing gravity hit him instantly, but he locked his trembling joints, ignoring the burning agony in his arm.
Thwip. Thunk. The first rune darkened.
He grabbed the next arrow, knocking it fluidly. Thwip. Thunk. The second rune darkened.
His shoulder screamed. The wind started to pick back up. He knocked the third arrow, tracked the rising current, and fired.
Thwip. Thunk.
Dead center on the third rune. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ
The howling wind instantly died. The crushing gravity evaporated, leaving Arthur staggering forward.
With a deep, resonant hum, the air above the chasm shimmered. A solid, crystalline bridge materialized across the abyss, connecting his platform to the far wall.
Arthur dropped to one knee, gasping for breath, clutching his bleeding arm.
He had made it across.
