Kaavl Conspiracy (18 page)

Rolban

Methusal slipped
down the Grand Staircase, through the Great Hall, and into the bright sunshine. She’d managed to clear her mind, and was now ready for the Tri-Level Game. No morning haze lingered outside; just a crystal clear day with a brilliant blue sky. The black bluffs cut a crisp line across the distant eastern horizon.

The opening ceremonies were about to begin. She climbed Rolban’s mountainous hillside and sat next to Behran and the other kaavl contenders. He grinned at her, and both turned to pay attention as Petr strode to the forefront, flanked by Kitran and a few elders. Time for the opening speeches. This was the boring part. She craned her neck, looking for her parents and friends. She saw them far above her, and Deccia sat below her, near the Dehrien Chief.

So, Mentàll Solboshn hadn’t gone home yet. Her eyes narrowed. Was he sizing up the competition for the Inter-Community Kaavl Games? Probably. Since he was Dehre’s Chief—and also because he’d been able to approach her, unheard, on the plateau yesterday—she knew he was a top kaavl contender. Probably at the Primary level.

The speeches took forever. Afterward, Kitran tied colorful Rolbani flags to poles, and with great ceremony inserted them into special holders at the four corners of the plateau.

Would the games never begin? Methusal shifted her position, waiting for the events to start. The Quint-levelers did not get to participate, as none had achieved any extraordinary kaavl abilities yet. As a result, the Quatr-Level Game was first, and then the Tri-level. Only one game was played for each level. This rule was patterned after an actual battle in a war. A warrior had only one chance to attack and victoriously retreat from the enemy. All the practicing Methusal had done this year came down to just one chance to beat Behran. Nerves made her feel on edge. She couldn’t make any mistakes. She had to make the most of this opportunity. And she’d enjoy her freedom, too, while she still had it.

The four Kaavl Games events would last all afternoon, and would end with more speeches and a winner’s march. Methusal longed to be a part of the winner’s march. But first she had to win. And before that, the Quatr-levelers must play.

Currently, the Quatr-level contenders stood in a line at the top of the lonely plateau. Kaavl flags fluttered from their waists, and the players looked tense. A kaavl stick hung from each of their belts, although the weapon was not allowed to be used in the game. It was only carried in order that the participants could defend themselves against a real attack from a whip beast. Leather kaavl strips were the only capturing tool allowed in the games.

The kaavl disks clashed, signaling the start of the contest,
and the players sprinted down the hill.

Soon she would run that course, too. Perspiration slicked her palms and she shifted restlessly. Soon she and Behran…

A collective gasp from the audience jolted her from the daydream. A wave of brown clad Quatr contenders scrambled down the cliff. But wait! Another figure had sprung up from behind a bush on the plain. A slight figure with long, pale gold hair darted into the competition.

“Who’s that?” Behran said.

Pride and consternation made Methusal gasp. “Aali!”

“Aali? When did she learn kaavl?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen her listening in on the Quatr-level instruction, but…”

Fingers clenched, she rooted for her gutsy young cousin. Clearly, she had learned the rudiments of kaavl on her own, and now braved her father’s wrath to compete in the Quatr-Level Game.

Petr. With apprehension, she glanced downhill to Petr and Deccia. The two could not look more different. Deccia leaned forward, her hands clasped, visibly rooting for her little sister, but Petr sat like a stone. A hard mask tightened his features. Aali would soon pay for her disobedience. But for now, she was in her glory.

The seven contenders ran for the distant bluff. Soon it was impossible to tell them apart. By the time the contenders reached the halfway mark at the bluff, four had been eliminated from play. Only three remained now, and they ran back for the plateau. Had Aali managed to escape capture?

Breath bated, Methusal watched the three figures become more distinct, and then a surge of relief and pride straightened her spine. Aali’s long blond hair was unmistakable. Retra and Lina flanked her—two fifteen-year-olds that Methusal had competed against in the past.

The three now scrabbled up the cliff. Lina fell a little behind, but Aali and Retra still ran neck and neck. Methusal bit her tongue, wanting to scream, “Go, Aali! Go!” But cheering was strictly prohibited in the Kaavl Games.

In the end, it was Retra, a little older and with more reserves of strength, who surged ahead, toppling first over the edge of the plateau which served as the finishing line. Gamely, Aalicaa finished next, and then Lina.

Methusal leaped to her feet with the rest of the crowd, screaming and clapping as loud as she could. Aalicaa definitely had kaavl talent—that would show Petr! But she didn’t look at him again, because she was afraid of what she’d see.

“Retra’s scores,” Kitran trumpeted through the shell. “Capturing, ten! Evading, ten!”

A perfect ten was the highest score a player could earn in a game. Retra had done well. He draped pendants about the necks of all three girls, and the cheering went on for a good while longer. Then the trio descended from the plateau and sprinted to join their families on the hillside. But Aali did not climb up. Instead, Petr stalked down, fury evident in every line of his stocky body. Deccia rushed after him and placed a pleading hand on his sleeve. Angrily, he brushed it off. Both disappeared from view.

At least Deccia would be there to help protect Aali from Petr’s wrath. But the Tri-Level Game was next, and Methusal could only focus on that now.

* * * * *

Methusal stood at the top of the plateau. A brisk, warm wind blew her dark hair away from her face. Clad in the traditional earth brown leather tunic and breeches, and with a tan kaavl flag and kaavl stick tucked into her waistband, she felt completely relaxed, and kaavl. She’d slipped so easily into a kaavl state of mind after reaching the plateau—as if it was becoming a natural part of her. She’d never felt so confident before. Surely, this was a good sign. Her fingers tightened around the long, narrow kaavl strip looped across her palm. Two more strips waited in her pocket, just in case she needed them.

Facing the Tri-level contestants, Kitran put his lips to the
large, cone-shaped shell of the rare, land bound slug monster.
The inhabitant had long ago been boiled and removed as a delicacy—served only to the Chief.

“Are you ready?” His amplified voice rolled richly, carrying easily to the rows of spectators perched on the lower hillside of their nearby mountain.

Methusal nodded, and glanced down the line of participants at Behran. He was her true opponent in this game. Behran had already earned himself a place of outstanding at the Tri-level. Last year he had placed third—not good enough to move on to the Bi-level yet—but excellent for a first year Tri-level. This year it was his goal to win, or place second. Another win next year, and he’d be able to advance to the Bi-level. Methusal meant to do the same, if she could. To do that meant she had to either win or come in second today.

Behran caught her eye and shot her a cocky grin. Gaze narrowing a bit, Methusal looked away.

Kitran told the six contenders, “The winner will be the first person to reach the far bluffs and return here, to the starting point, without being captured. Just to be clear, if a contestant reaches the far bluffs, only the contenders who have also reached the far bluffs may capture him—or her—on the run back to the plateau. At the Tri-level, only two may cross the finish line. The other four must be captured first.”

Each kaavl level was a little different. The Quatr-level allowed three contenders to cross the finish line, and the Tri-level allowed two. The Bi and Primary kaavl levels were the most stringent of all. Only one could cross the finish line. All others must be eliminated first.

His voice rose a notch. “Now, if you are all ready… Begin!”

The crash of the traditional kaavl disks released the six participants from their waiting stillness. Methusal and the others scrambled down the side of the plateau. Reaching the scrubby plain, each fanned out in a different direction. In an effort to camouflage his or her intended plan of attack, each person disappeared behind the thick tagma bushes or the lower lying scrub brush and occasional thick clumps of lynnte weed. The two main points of the game were to capture and to evade capture.

Ears sharpened to detect every sound, Methusal tracked each competitor as she swiftly followed her favorite path for the distant bluff. One adversary sprinted ahead and cut in front of her, looking for an early capture, but Methusal easily evaded her by darting behind a densely leaved bush and tossing rocks toward the east. When the unwary hunter stepped into full view, Methusal flicked out her kaavl strip and it wrapped tight around her opponent’s knees. She fell with a startled screech.

Methusal’s first capture. Only four competitors remained in the game.

“How…how…,” Daltha spluttered, giving up her tan flag to Methusal. But Methusal just smiled, retrieved the kaavl strip, and swiftly tucked the flag into her waistband. When she sprinted on, she only heard three participants running in the game now.

The familiar black bluffs grew steadily closer. She ran silently, careful to take note of the tough root systems that tangled from time to time across the surface of the plain. Another system of movement fell silent, and Methusal knew Behran was systematically stripping away the opposition. As a Tri-level spectator last year, she’d carefully studied Behran’s capturing methods. He was a dangerous opponent.

Still another system of movement fell silent. Now it was just Methusal and Behran. Despite her confidence in her abilities, Methusal felt uneasy. Behran had eliminated the competition much too quickly this year.

Admiration grew for her rival, and she slowed down and searched for a concealing bush to hide behind.

The match now was for first place. The winner could either reach the finishing plateau first and allow the other competitor to come in second, or the winner could capture his opponent, and there would be no second place winner. She knew Behran wanted to capture her. Just like she burned to capture him. The rivalry between them demanded it.

The crack of a twig signaled that Behran was circling behind her, and to the right. Methusal intensified her concentration. She kicked a stone ahead of her, and stepped lightly behind a huge clump of dense lynnte weeds.

Behran darted into full view and froze. His gaze darted back and forth, and unease slid across his features. Methusal almost laughed—but that would have given away her position. Behran melted back into the bushes.

Everything was silent except for the rush of wings far overhead. But Methusal wasn’t fooled. Behran was waiting for her to make a move.

She weighed her options. The bluffs were a four minute run away. Only there could she spring her best trap on Behran. But she had to figure out how to get there first, and this seemed like her perfect opportunity. She needed to fool him into thinking she was still here, when really she was on her way…

Behran could not see her now. She scanned the area, and planned an angle of escape blocked from his view. She smiled. Tagma bushes! A line of them stretched to her left and angled toward the bluff.

Satisfied her plan would work, and sure Behran still waited unsuspectingly, Methusal darted from one tough, prickly tagma bush to another. She heard no movement from her rival. Confidence buoyed, she sprinted for the towering black bluffs.

A small sound touched her ears. What had caused it?

Then it came again. The soft whisper of flying feet. Behran was almost upon her!

Aghast, Methusal whipped a glance over her shoulder. How had he tracked her so easily? Admiration surged, along with a spurt of fear. In ten steps, he would see her. She instinctively dove for a nearby tagma bush. Her body slid. Rough, gritty rocks scraped her palms as she fought to stop her forward momentum. When she finally stopped, her face was in the bush. Thorns pressed into her cheek.
Ow.
But she didn’t dare move.

Methusal listened, hardly daring to breathe. He was closer now. He must have heard her slide across the ground. What should she do?

She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him. That was her sole advantage. No one else could hear like she could. And she was fast realizing that if she wanted to escape from Behran, she’d need every advantage she could find.

She felt much too vulnerable, lying in the dirt. Stealthily, she went up on her knees and pulled her stinging face from the stickery bush.

Now she heard nothing. Where was he?

Perspiration slid toward her dusty, stinging palms. She didn’t like feeling deaf and blind. Was he sneaking up behind her? She whipped a glance over her shoulder. Nothing. Only the flat plain, dotted by bushes, stretched west as far as her eyes could see.

Feeling even more uneasy, Methusal shot a glance at the bluff. She had to get there before Behran did. That way she could see him coming, instead of the other way around. And if everything went according to plan, she might even capture him. That hopeful thought brought a curve to her lips.

Keeping her breaths silent and shallow, Methusal mapped out another plan of escape. Bushes were becoming few and far between now, so she’d have to be fast. Finally deciding upon her course of action, she leaped up and darted on, ducking from cover to sparse cover, heading for the stream and the rocky jumble near the base of the bluffs.

She kept her ears keenly tuned into her environment. A warm, soft breeze caressed her skin as she sprinted for her destination. Soft wind sighed through the plains bushes. Then she heard another sound. The sound of human breathing.