The Gauntlet (The Cage 3)

Rolf and Nok exchanged a cautious look. The crowd was murmuring louder. Glints of pickaxes and hammers shone here and there, a reminder of how quickly the crowd could be overcome by panic and end up doing something rash.

Rolf nudged Nok. “You got this.”

Nok cleared her throat, addressing the girl loudly. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Makayla. I was in one of the menageries on the Kindred station. We’re refugees. We have a dozen more ships behind us wanting to know if it’s safe to land. There’s a lot of wounded people with us. Animals, too.”

“Do you believe her?” Nok whispered.

Rolf’s fingers tapped anxiously. “Ask her which menagerie—”

But the girl, Makayla, had caught sight of something in the crowd that had stolen her attention. Her eyes went wide with surprise, then anger, then determination. She strode through the crowd toward the dance hall.

“Stop!” Nok called. “Hey, girl, whatever your name was, don’t move!”

But Makayla didn’t listen to Nok. She strode right up to the group of mine guards congregated near the dance hall. Rolf’s thoughts raced—what was this girl planning? Should he grab a pickax too, just in case?

She walked past the biggest of the guards. Right to Dane.

Dane’s eyes were wide—he clearly recognized her. For a second, worry flared in Rolf’s mind. A friend of Dane’s was certainly no friend of theirs. But then Dane’s eyes narrowed.

“Makayla,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Dane,” she replied, as though spitting out something distasteful. And then she drew her fist back and punched him in the jaw.

Several people gasped.

Dane stumbled backward into the crowd of surprised mine guards. Ripples of worry ran through the crowd, but Rolf just leaned close to Nok.

“I have a feeling we can trust this girl,” he said.

22

Cora

CORA STOOD BEFORE THE portal door that led to the Gauntlet’s first puzzle chamber. It was five feet high, ringed by blindingly bright lights. It faced the dais where the four Chief Assessors sat, their delegations behind them, watching. Cora’s eyes fell on Serassi, and she felt a stab of anger.

Traitor.

“Once you enter,” Fian explained from the dais, “the stock algorithm will take over. There is no exiting or stopping the Gauntlet until you either complete the first round, after which you will be granted a break before moving on to the second, or you fail.” He tented his fingers.

The lights suddenly flickered and Cora looked up, along with the Chief Assessors. She could almost feel the storm’s wind howling outside, pushing against the structure. But then the lights brightened again.

Fian pointed to the monitors, which displayed an unintelligible series of symbols. “These coded monitors will allow us to track your progress. Though we do not judge you ourselves, we observe in order to ensure a fair run. Each of our aides has been trained to interpret the coding. Now, approach the portal door.”

Lights illuminated on the floor as she approached, as though guiding her way. Each step made her knees shake harder—or was that the storm, making the structure tremble? She looked over her shoulder and caught Willa’s eye from the bench along the rear wall. Willa touched a hand to her heart, and Cora remembered her words. The Gauntlet will take everything from you. It searches for weaknesses and exploits anything it finds.

Cora touched her own heart in response. Then her hand dropped to the edge of her black Gauntleteer shirt. It felt as light as cotton, no sign of the nanocircuitry she knew was embedded there to monitor her physical fitness and mental capacity.

“I would wish you good luck,” Fian said, “but luck is a human concept. There is no logic in it. A lesser concept for a lesser species.” He lifted a hand over the control to open the portal door. At the same time, the lights flickered irregularly again.

He pressed the control, but nothing happened.

He pressed it harder.

Then the room began to quake. The smirk on Fian’s face faded as Brother Magga gripped the edges of the dais with his long fingers and Crusader whipped his head around toward the other Axion.

“What is happening?” Crusader demanded. The charming note to his voice had vanished.

“An earthquake,” Redrage explained calmly from behind her mask, tapping a few controls on the panel. “A part of the storm. It’s stronger than we anticipated.”

The lights flickered again.

“This is a farce!” Fian pushed to his feet. “How you Mosca ever became intelligent is beyond me!”

“Quiet down,” Redrage hissed. She stood up, pacing anxiously. “The stock algorithm evaluated the forecast weather patterns and judged the conditions to be acceptable. The quake will pass. They rarely last more than a few minutes.” She sauntered over to Bonebreak and Ironmage, exchanging a few hushed words with them.

Cora paced in front of the door, the floor lighting up each of her steps. The tremor wasn’t enough to cause more than a mild vibration, but she was already so jumpy that she felt like she might pass out.

As if sensing her growing panic, Ironmage and Bonebreak came over to the portal door. Ironmage handed her a cup of water and then leaned in close.

“Listen,” he whispered, jerking his head at the Mosca’s Chief Assessor. “My brother and I have been working on Redrage, like I said. Trying to negotiate a deal for some under-the-table information. She stuck to her morals for a while, rambling about safeguarding standards for the galaxy . . .” Ironmage rolled his eyes. “But it seems the other delegates have irritated her since they first landed. The Kindred ordering her around, even though this is our territory, and those boring Gatherers always reciting the rules. Redrage just now relented to share some information—nothing too revealing, but enough to give you a chance, which will annoy the other delegates.”

“I didn’t think anyone could tamper with the Gauntlet,” Cora whispered.

“We aren’t tampering,” Ironmage said. “We can’t change anything; we’re merely relaying information that happened to fall into our lap.”

Cora leaned in close.

“The first puzzle,” Bonebreak explained quietly as he took the empty cup back from her, “is a moral one.”

Cora straightened. “That’s it?” She’d been hoping for something more useful, like the key to solving one of the more difficult puzzles.

Bonebreak let out a grunt. “That information cost us a percentage of trade rights if you win. The first puzzle is almost never a moral one. Just take heed.”

Overhead, the lights resumed full power.

Her thoughts vanished as the earthquake’s tremor underfoot stilled. The floor stopped shaking, and the monitors ceased rattling.

Redrage returned to the dais. She pressed a few more controls on the panel, then nodded. “The meteorological disturbance has passed. Our controls should function again at regular capacity.”

Fian strode over to where Cora stood with the Mosca. His fingers dug into her upper arm as he dragged her back toward the portal. She struggled, hating the feel of his cold skin on hers. “Chief Assessors,” he called over his shoulder, “prepare to open the door to the first puzzle chamber. The Gauntleteer is ready—”

The ground rumbled again, interrupting him. But it didn’t have the same vibrations as the earthquake. The rumble felt more like wheels—or a great rolling ball.

Cora gasped. The other rover sphere!

“Wait,” Brother Magga said, frowning toward the direction of the sound. “Someone approaches. Open the entrance into the hallway.”

“No!” Crusader said. “We have already been delayed long enough!”

Bonebreak and Ironmage, however, were already unlatching the heavy gates. Cora craned her neck as the rumbling grew. She caught sight of the rover sphere plowing down the hallway, throwing rain and mud against the walls. It must have just come from the storm outside.

The Axion delegation jumped up. The room e

rupted in surprised muttering.

“Highly unusual . . .”

“Against protocol . . .”

“Appears to be a Kindred steering it . . .”

“Enough!” Crusader yelled with a note of strain in his voice. “Enough distractions! It begins now.” He slammed his hand on the controls. With a whoosh of pressure, the portal door cracked open from the bottom, rising slowly, letting out a blast of cold air that made goose bumps erupt on Cora’s bare ankles. She tried to step backward, but Fian still held her tightly.

“Oh, no,” he whispered in her ear. “No escaping this time. No one rushing to your rescue now.”

The rover sphere rolled to an abrupt stop by the dais. Through the muddy glass windows, Cora could just make out three figures inside.