The sentry dug his boot into my hand and I nearly screamed with pain. “You’re not going to…kill me over a… melon, are…you?” I panted, looking up at him.

“You won’t die,” he said, “there’s water below.” He pressed harder, and I gasped as my fingers threatened to give way. My feet scrambled for purchase, but I knew there would be no stopping the plummet into the gorge.

Thunk. Paul’s legs hit the man firmly in the back, sending him stumbling past me and into the open air. He screamed as he fell, and a moment later there was a splash as he hit the water. I heaved myself over the edge and collapsed onto the cave floor. Paul dropped next to me, releasing the rope. “You okay?”

I nodded, looking over the edge at the sentry, who was dragging himself onto the riverbank. Thank god he didn’t pass out, or we would’ve had to rescue him. I looked down at my injured hand, which was quickly developing a purple patch in the shape of the sentry’s boot. One of my fingers was bent oddly, and I tested the joint. It may be broken, but there’s no time to figure it out for sure.

Paul leaned outside of the cave and gestured for the others to come down. A moment later, Maureen, Lukas, and Aiden joined us. We looked to the back of the cave, which was dark and winding like Gibnor’s halls. As we turned the first bend, it grew too dark to see even a yard ahead.

“We’re more likely to die from a hole than an ambush,” Maureen whispered. “We should've brought a flashlight.”

Paul shushed her, and the minutes passed in silence as we walked deeper into the rock, running our hands against the walls to keep our bearings. The air grew still and stifling, agitated only by jets of air wafting from holes in the floor. Eventually, we reached a fork in the tunnel, but as far as I could tell, there were no markings indicating which way to take. Once again, I mentally praised the defense’s strategy—keeping the cave dark and dangerous was a better deterrent than any amount of manpower would have been.

I put my head to the cave walls, listening. Although the left tunnel was completely silent, the right vibrated with distant noise. “Come on,” I whispered, “take the right branch.”

The tunnel narrowed until we had to walk in single-file. I took the lead, stepping forward cautiously so that I would not be caught unawares by a pit or crevasse. Ahead, the sound of voices grew louder.

As the path twisted again, a trickle of light illuminated the deep red cave walls. I sped up and followed the light to the mouth of the tunnel, which opened into a massive cavern. Within, a thin crack in the ceiling above and the torches in the corners threw everything into eerie shadow. Just past the entrance was a writhing mass of bodies, made indistinguishable by the smoke from the torches. As the others came up behind me, I guided them behind an outcropping of rock where we could watch the cavern.

Ahead was an all-out melay. As far as I could tell, over thirty people were fighting for possession of the prize. In the center of the cavern, there was a tight circle of a half-dozen people, undoubtedly surrounding the melon.

“Come on,” I whispered to my team. In an arrow formation, we plowed through the groups of fighters on the outskirts of the cavern, reaching the inner circle. “Break through!” I shouted, and the five of us sprang forward to challenge the guards.

The first person to stop my charge was a tall, female member of the defense. I dove for her legs, jamming my shoulder into her hip and sending her falling to the ground. I positioned my knees on either side of her stomach and hit her in the face, once, twice, thrice. She grunted, grabbing my arms and flipping me over, but I wormed out from underneath her and jumped to my feet, kicking her firmly in the face. She grabbed her nose, cursing and moaning, and I turned my head back to the circle of fighters.

The others in my team were locked in combat except for Maureen, who had already been defeated and laid still on the ground. As their bodies shifted, the melon was finally visible between the feet of two male guards.

I stalked forward, determined to take at least one of them down, when someone slammed into me. I stumbled back, reeling to keep my balance. In front of me was Gizem, already sporting a black eye and split lip.

She struck at me with a flurry of kicks, sending me ducking and slipping as they whooshed through the air where my face had been a moment before. Before I could react, she came at me with a combo of punches that I barely managed to block with my elbows. As I backed up, I tripped on a piece of stone, giving her the few seconds she needed to strike me in the liver.

I doubled over, wheezing as the pain of the shot radiated down my side. She moved to finish me off, but I stepped back, forcing her to modify her kick to close the gap. As she jumped forward, her base leg hit the edge of the stone and she smashed into the ground.

I slipped away and tried to orientate myself, still half-shocked by the win. I realized that the fight with Gizem had moved me to the opposite side of the cave as the group guarding the melon, not far from the entrance. Once again, there were dozens of people between me and my target. I cursed with frustration—I was back to square one, and far more exhausted than when I had first entered the cave.

I climbed a pile of rocks, trying to find my teammates within the mass of bodies. Suddenly, shouts of “get him!” and “he’s escaping!” broke out across the cave. My eyes zeroed in on a figure pushing through the people, carrying the melon tucked underneath his arm. He stumbled, and a beam of light glinted off of his metal leg.

“Owen!” I screamed, watching as the defense took him down. His head whipped toward my voice, and we locked eyes as he took the melon in both hands and hurled it in my direction.

I jumped from the rock pile, catching it midair and landing in a crouch. Without waiting for the defense to realize what had happened, I charged back through the winding tunnel as quickly as the darkness would allow. When I reached the opening, I gripped the melon with one arm and the rope with the other, haphazardly propelling myself down to the riverbank.

I landed off-balance, nearly twisting my ankle as I struggled to keep hold of the melon. The moment I was stable, I broke out into an all-out sprint through the gorge. There were shouts from all sides as I flew, and rocks rained down from the rock walls as the defense tried to stop me from above; one clipped my arm, but the adrenaline blocked the sting. I glanced back to see a group of pursuers, including Gizem, hurtling after me. Members of my own team jumped into the fray, tackling them one-by-one.

The jagged rocks on the riverbank tore at my pant legs, and my boots soon became waterlogged. I pushed harder, determined to keep my head start. By the time I reached the mouth of the gorge, it seemed impossible that I could draw another breath of air into my lungs.

I was yards away from freedom when two people jumped from between a cluster of boulders, blocking my path. “Shit!” I yelled, looking around desperately for an escape path, but the gorge was too narrow and my chance of out-swimming or out-climbing the men was slim.

“Glace!” someone yelled, and I looked past the men to see Bast, panting and stained by the red dust of the rocks. I gripped the melon in two hands, like Owen had done, and chucked it over the men’s heads.

For an agonizing moment, Bast fumbled the melon, but she managed to pull it to her chest at the last moment. “Run!” I yelled, and she took off across the dunes, the men close behind. I threw myself at the closest one’s legs, sending him crashing into the ground, and climbed over his body as I followed Bast.

She ran like the wind, widening the gap between her and the final pursuer. He fell further and further behind, eventually collapsing into the sand onto his knees. I passed him, reaching Bast’s side, and looked behind to see that the remainder of the defense was too far behind to catch us.

As the wind made the sand dance around us, the gorge—and anyone else—was out of sight. When we reached the training camp, Bast raised the melon above her head, and we shouted in celebration.

While the instructors offered their congratulations, I turned to Bast. “Great job. You saved my ass.”

Her sun-hardened mouth widened into a grin. “You’re bleeding.”

“So what? We won.”