Hunted

Forty-Four: The Stadium

James' condition deteriorated rapidly, as he forced himself on the long journey from the hospital, up to the Old School and out into the academy grounds. His strength had been non-existent to begin with, but by the time he had entered the shade of the tall conifers surrounding the stadium, his body could no longer continue unaided. The heat was stifling, the muggy air making breathing almost impossible and covering his skin with a clammy sheen of sweat.

Ashley Porter hurried along beside them, just outside the boundary created by the Forgotten. She kept glancing at James nervously, but James hardly had the strength left to notice. It took all his focus to place one foot in front of the other and to ignore the dark shadow pushing in on his vision.

Yet even then, he stumbled over an exposed root, disorientated by the darkness beneath the trees, his coordination lacking its usual grace. The Forgotten closest to his right, caught him by the neck of his shirt, softening his descent so that only his knees collided with the sandy path, the grit tearing holes in the legs of his trousers and grazing his skin.

Unable to find the strength to stand up, James took the few seconds of stillness to try and recuperate. He used his right hand to wipe away the sweat that ran into his irritated eyes. He fought to regain control over his ragged breathing and to still the wild throbbing that ran up and down his left side. He didn't see how he could continue unaided, his arms and legs trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

Elmhirst seemed to notice the party behind him had come to a sudden halt, and he stopped too, turning around with an irritated expression.

"So weak," he sighed. "This is going to be just too easy. Get him on his feet and drag him the rest of the way if you have to," the headmaster ordered, turning abruptly.

The Forgotten moved to grab James' arms and pull him back to his feet, but he shook them off, much to his own torture. He tried to clamber back himself, but it was more effort than it was worth.

Just as he was about to ask them for help, Ashley brushed forward, her mood bristling.

"For God's sake Alexander, get up on your feet," she snapped, an unusually harsh tone creeping into her voice. She bent down and grabbed James around the waist, heaving him back to his feet, her cheeks flushing red.

James wasn't sure if he should thank her or not, but as he opened his mouth to mumble some sort of half-hearted appreciation, a sharp, pinching pain caught him above his right hip. He looked down and caught sight of a syringe pressing into his soft flesh, the healing, pearl liquid vanishing beneath his skin. Elmhirst didn't look back and the Forgotten didn't seem to notice Ashley's covert medicating skills.

"Keep moving forward," she said in an irritated voice, shoving James back against the Forgotten on his left. James hissed as his bad side made unwanted contact with the masked man, the pain throbbing worse than ever, but it didn't matter anymore. In minutes it would be healed.

He knew that he had to maintain the pretence of pain, even when the medication had healed his damaged flesh. He also knew that whatever Elmhirst was bringing him to face was going to be far from pleasant, and he was still without his alteration.

James sighed as he watched the stadium emerge from amongst the pine trees, tall, brutish and colossal. His stomach knotted and his head swam.

He already knew she would be in there, he could only hope she was still alive.

****

Iseult shifted uneasily from foot to foot, waiting anxiously with the rest of the students who had been summoned to the stadium.

"Are you okay?" Ethan asked, squinting against the sun that gleamed off the snow white sand covering the stadium floor thirty-foot below their seats.