A Court of Champions

Chapter 3: Terms

Ahead in the darkness, Lucien felt a presence stir at the intrusion. He stopped in his tracks, every muscle in his body tense as he listened, straining and forcing his attention forward. Behind him, Lucien felt Feyre stop too. For a human, she was sure-footed and quiet, a product of her hunting days; but even so, her footfalls were clumsy and her breathing as loud as a siren compared to the stealth of a High Fae. Trying to drown out the sounds of her inhales and exhales, Lucien focused. And waited. Focused, waiting. Wait and focus.

He wasn't sure how long the two of them stood there in the cool, damp darkness before he heard it. A voice, deep and powerful. When it spoke, the words strung together like running water to the point where it was difficult to separate one from the next.

"Lucien Vanserra. Seventh son of the Autumn Court. Come to bargain."

Bryaxis' greeting was neither a threat nor a question; an observation, more like. Lucien wasn't sure how the creature knew of his intentions, although he tried not to let that fact unsettle him.

"Feyre Archeron. Third daughter of her father. Come to bargain."

Feyre swallowed in the darkness over Lucien's shoulder, although he was impressed at how composed she remained even as Bryaxis' bone-deep magic began to engulf them. Lucien could feel it moving around them, encircling them and twining around their bodies like a fatal caress. It was a horrible and awe-inspiring force, and Lucien felt the ancient magic reverberate through every corner of his being. He wasn't clear on what sensations Feyre felt behind him, but he heard her breath hitch in her chest with the faintest hint of fear.

"You know our terms?" Lucien tried to keep his voice steady as he addressed Bryaxis. He wasn't even certain where the creature was, if it had any fixed position at all. From what he could feel, Bryaxis seemed to be more of an apparition than a flesh-and-blood entity.

"A life for a life," it replied, the voice softer and much closer to Lucien's ear now. Lucien felt the magic begin to press in on him, a firm and increasing pressure. Simultaneously, the ground beneath Lucien's feet began to quake. Small pebbles and shale shards clattered on the ground or slipped down the edges of the tunnel. Whatever Bryaxis was, wherever it was: it was getting closer.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Your price is the life of the Blood Queen," Bryaxis continued, "and mine is that of the Blood Champion."

Lucien's eyebrows quirked at the title. Blood Champion? He had no idea who that was, who the creature was referring to. Lucien and Tamlin hadn't anticipated that the creature would have designs on who it would accept as sacrifice in return for the queen's life. Frankly, neither of them had thought that Bryaxis would have an awareness of the goings on Under the Mountain. Despite residing in the deepest chasms of the cave network beneath Amarantha's stronghold, the creature had lived there as long as history had been recorded, and it had never - at least not to their knowledge, or that of Prythian's historians - indicated interest in the world above.

As Lucien's mind raced, the pressure of Bryaxis' magic continued to build and crossed the threshold into pain. He needed to buy time. He needed to keep Bryaxis talking.

Just as he drew in a breath, he heard Feyre's voice - small but clear - pierce the darkness and cut through the growing roar of the cave as it shook and trembled.

"Who is the Blood Champion?"

Lucien had hoped for a more tactful approach, although he realized that Feyre had probably been wise to address the creature frankly and directly. As the crushing weight of its magic continued to bear down on him, Lucien understood that time was no longer a luxury he had.