Cade shuddered involuntarily as the little girl’s sweet voice spoke of death. It was sickening.

Abaddon giggled again. “But you have not asked the most important question.”

Cade drew a blank.

“You must leave in exactly two hours, or the round is forfeit,” Abaddon said. “Gather in the desert, and follow the rising sun.”

And with that … she was gone.

CHAPTER

5

“How long now?”

Cade did not even have time to register who had spoken, instead shouting over his shoulder as he poured the well’s bucketful of water into his amphora. “Ten minutes!”

The keep was a mess of activity, as the newly woken contenders hurried to ready themselves for the attack.

Yet, in the cold light of the early morning, Cade took comfort in the preparations they had made before Abaddon had spoken.

In a way, the threat of the slavers’ return had been a blessing in disguise. What little food they had was packed in sackcloths, ready to be moved in case they had to abandon their home.

Their weapons were kept sharp and by their bedsides, as was the linen armor of those who had fought in the arena. Bedding and sackcloth tents had been prepared to take with them, and the sleds they had used to transport the sauropod meat to the smokehouse were ready to go as well, one for each of them.

But there was still so much to do. Amphorae had to be filled with water, and Bea and Trix had volunteered to run to the graveyard in the desert to gather spare jugs to refill for their journey. Even now, he kicked himself for not doing so before.

The meat, now smoked, was being packed to take with them, and an amphora of rendered fat was brought too. The rods and nets they used to catch fish, rare though that was, needed to be taken from their place beside the river.

Fruit they had left on the trees—to stop them rotting—had to be picked from the mountaintop and brought along. There was another week left on the timer, and they needed enough food to last them.

And with each moment, they remembered other things they needed. Utensils to eat with. Spare sackcloth for crafting. Sticks to hold up their tents, should the place they were going have none—certainly the desert would not yield any.

Moreover, the sun would bake them to a crisp if they had to march across the desert without cover. So makeshift parasols were under construction, made by the deft fingers of Quintus and Yoshi. By some good fortune, Quintus had built one before, to shade him as he fished along the riverbank.

A shatter of crockery followed by a scream of frustration sounded from behind him. Bea and Trix were back, and one of the amphorae they had brought from the desert had smashed on the cobbles.

Ignoring their annoyance, Cade tugged one from their arms and uncorked it, then began to fill it as he had done with the others.