Free Escape from Evil by David Grimstone Page B

even pause before beginning his turn. He landed evenly on the second platform, receiving an unexpected whoop of cheers in the process. He leaped across to the next stage with equal skill, taking some time to catch his breath while his fellow slaves looked on.
    Decimus watched, silently praying for the boy while at the same time having to admit he would stand a better chance of getting through the round if the boy fell.
    Fourth platform—no problem. Fifth, sixth. It was looking good. Then, suddenly . . .
    Decimus knew the boy hadn’t taken enough of a running start for the jump needed to make it to the seventh platform. The gap was big for someone with such short limbs, and he just knew—deep down—that the boy’s jump would see him fall short. He was right.
    The boy plummeted to the ground, and was quickly dragged away by the servants. The trial continued. Decimus shuffled along the line, Gladius behind him, and Olu, Argon, and Ruma in front. He wondered which of their small group would return to the cells that night.
    By the time Olu stood next to the ladder, twelve slaves had fallen victim to the evils of the trial. Decimus found himself shaking with fear as Olu quickly climbed to the first platform.
    Rather than watch the quiet boy leap between each platform, Decimus chose instead to look down at the sand, relying on the gasps and sighs of the other slaves to inform him of Olu’s progress. Fortunately, there were a lot of gasps . . . but not a single sigh.

    Olu completed the course with a heart-stopping leap from the seventh platform. Despite missing the eighth platform, he managed to catch hold of the edge and drag himself to victory. A roar went up from the slaves, and Olu returned to the end of the line.
    Argon’s own trial got off to a speedy start, and the Gaul only encountered a problem between platforms seven and eight, tripping as he landed and almost toppling over the edge. Luckily, he managed to save himself—and Decimus heaved a sigh of relief.
    Ruma gave everyone an early scare when he missed the second platform and ended up clinging onto the wooden edge like a man trying to stop himself from tumbling over the edge of a steep cliff. Once he’d pulled himself up, however, the rest of his jumps were completed with comparative ease.
    Decimus took a deep breath, looked up at the platform, and began to climb.
    â€œGood luck,” Gladius whispered. “Remember—don’t look down!”
    His heart thumping in his chest, Decimus hauled himself onto the platform, paused briefly to take another breath, and sprinted up to the edge.
    Leap .
    The thing that shocked Decimus, when he landed safely on the other side, was just how unstable the platforms were. For a moment, he felt the wooden stage tilt beneath him and actually thought it might collapse. Then he found his footing . . . and the third platform loomed. He jumped it without a second’s hesitation, and only took a moment to steel himself when he landed on the fourth.
    Platforms five and six also passed without disaster, and Decimus finally found himself preparing for the jump that had claimed so many slaves before him.
    He took a final gulp of air.
    One . . .
    Two . . .
    Three . . . leap .
    CRASH .
    Decimus landed on the eighth platform with such force that he actually pitched forward and almost toppled over the opposite edge. Fortunately, his legs buckled beneath him and he crumpled onto the wooden stage, accompanied by a roar of approval from the crowd.
    As he climbed down and joined the slave line behind Ruma, Decimus saw that Gladius was about to take the trial. He couldn’t watch.
    Turning his eyes to the sand once again, he almost wished he could block out all sound as well. Gasps and sighs had accompanied the endeavors of just about every slave who had taken the trials . . . and Gladius’s own jumps were no different.
    Decimus watched the sand, hearing three sets of shocked gasps . . . and one very