Authors: Jeffrey Johnson
Areli looked at herself in the mirror of her vanity. This was the first time she wore the black leather pants and shirt. The seamstress thought it disrespectful for to Areli wear it before today, saying it should be perfect as long as she didn’t gain any weight. And to Areli’s surprise, it was perfect. The seamstress even left room for her impending muscle tone, showing that she had been doing this for a very long time.
Areli picked up the letter on the vanity that Yats had hand-delivered to her in the morning and let the words try to calm her anxious heart, which sought to tear every muscle around her ribs.
Dearest Areli,
I know you are going to do amazing today. I wish I could be next to you in your carriage to the arena. Comforting your nerves. I wish I was next to you in your locker room. Slowing the anxiety building in your lungs. I wish I could walk with you to your dragon. To hear your racing heart pounding through metal. I will, however, be able to watch you race from within the coliseum. The place where our hearts first begun to intertwine. Yours in mine. Mine in yours. You are my star. My beautiful night sky. I will cheer for you louder than the rest. You are my forever. You are the thoughts I carry in my head, the beats pumping my heart, the substance in my lungs, as they are no longer capable of air. I am so proud of you. I can’t wait to see you after the race.
Yatniel
The letter brought tears to Areli’s eyes when she first read it. Talon was forever in the past. Yats was her future. Yats was her love. Her burning desire, who made her feel as if she was flying, even though her feet were still on the ground. As she laid the parchment back onto the vanity, it was the seventh time her eyes had brought in each word. She ran her fingers across the parchment, imagining Yats writing it. Feeling his heartbeat as she let her fingers trace some of the words.
“Areli,” said Aubrie, “it’s time.” Areli looked up at her trainer and then folded the letter back up and laid it on the corner of the vanity. She stood up and allowed the servants to place the gold armour across her chest, losing a breath with each click of metal securing it firmly into place. The servants placed more amour on her shoulders and then brought the leather straps around her mid-section, starting at the top one and working their way down. They asked, after each one was buckled, if she still had good flexibility.
They placed on her headgear, this one made of supple leather with gold on the outside, along with a collage of reds and blacks. Aubrie did one last precursory check, checking each fastener and strap herself, and then she brought Areli into her arms.
“Just trust your instincts, Areli,” said Aubrie, “they will never fail you.” Areli nodded her head, and then they walked to the outside room where the other riders were beginning to gather. Each was covered in thick layers of make-up and intense eyeliner with black and red eye-shadow. Their hair was dusted in gold glitter. Their thumbnails and index fingernails were painted black, their pinkie and ring-fingernails were painted red, and their middle fingernails were painted gold to represent the three colors that made up the flag of Abhi.
Areli felt nervous. Queasy.
Relax, Areli. Relax
, she told herself. She didn’t know how Fides looked so calm, as if they were just going to a practice in their individual arenas.
Of course
, thought Areli, as this was Fides third sorting competition. And Areli knew Fides had always performed the best. But Areli was not only sick because this was her first sorting competition, she was also nauseated because the Emperor had given her a standard. He had placed her name in the same sphere as Aquilina and Fides. One the most famous and successful riders ever, and the other, coming off two back-to-back near undefeated seasons, only to lose the past couple World Races in the short-go.
Areli reminded herself that Aquilina had told her she was one of the best riders on the team. If she wasn’t, Aquilina wouldn’t have invited her to go on a free-fly with her.
I can do this
, thought Areli
, I can do this
. She knew she had no other option except to perform well. The Emperor was unpredictable. To make a mockery of his bold statements last night . . . Areli didn’t want to think of the consequences. She knew outside of the boarding facility standing on a large stage, in the center of the coliseum, was the Emperor displaying his cruelty. As each race started with death to those who disgraced or wronged either the Empire or Emperor. And this race would be no different. And Areli knew, as it had been the standard for the past year, those who would be tortured and maimed for entertainment purpose would be those convicted of being Followers of Degendhard. Those who chose to hope for a brighter and better future.
Areli was comforted by Fides presence next to her as they exited out of the locker rooms toward their carriages. Areli was glad that they shared a trainer, glad they were paired up together in fourth period chorus, and glad she was her sister, her friend, a part of her family.
“Remember your training, Areli,” said Fides facing forward as they were nearing the door to the platform, “obey your instincts. You’re a phenomenal rider. Phenomenal.”
“You’re phenomenal, Fides,” said Areli, “or should I say premier number one.”
“It could be you.”
“Now you’re just being silly.”
“Expect greatness, Areli,” said Fides, “then greatness has no other option except to show.” Those were the last words as the door to the platform opened and Areli was forced to stay back, allowing the other riders to pass by her and file into their carriages. Aubrie hugged her again and watched as Areli was placed into her luxurious cab. Areli felt like her lungs had somehow found a way to become prunes, and her heart found a way to grow eighty times in size. She felt it pound with the force of a mountain waterfall in every inch of her body.
You can do this, Areli.
When they came to get Kaia, Areli could tell she knew it was race day. Areli’s mixture of nerves and excitement fueled her dragon as they made their way to the holding pen. Areli could hear the beating of drums and the screams of voices as the Emperor was executing Followers of Degendhard in the most grotesque way. Calling them traitors to the Empire, putting on a show before the show. The Emperor found them guilty of everything he was known for – murdering, raping, stealing, and lying. None of it true. But it was his word against theirs. There was no fighting it. There was also, to the great disappointment to the Emperor, no Degendhard the Great to murder, but Areli had a feeling it would be just a matter of time. If Degendhard truly was an Emperor of the People, how much longer could he let the people suffer on his account?
The riders and their dragons gathered into the center of the holding pen, their trainers stood next to them, and Coach Sani stood in the middle. The walls shook with screams and roars from the crowd. The complicated drum work rousing up the excitement.
“This is it,” said Coach Sani, “after today, six of you will be Premiers, one of the highest honors bestowed to any rider. And two of you will be placed as auxiliaries. The fastest pattern wins. Any ties will be sorted according to the Emperor’s discretion. The best of luck to each of you.”
They were dismissed into the warm-up pen. Areli felt lighter as she was able to get into the air with her dragon. She felt the motion of circling the vast walls comforting, calming, even a bit therapeutic. She was able to get Kaia through ten circles going in each direction until the flames below moved from a circle, into a number. The bowls of flames flickered the number one. Fides was being called into the pen.
Areli wished she could scream to her, to tell her good-luck, but there was no way Fides would hear her from where she was. Areli never wished more than in this moment that the column racing team showed the same encouragement as the riders on the roping team. Areli could almost hear the thoughts of the other riders circling among her. Each wishing death, injury, or a bitter end towards Fides and her dragon, Faina.
Areli listened for the horns. She heard the noise of the crowd. The soft murmuring, which was probably Fides name escaping their mouths. The crowd got louder. Fides must be in the arena. The roars continued, never ending, never ceasing. As the sorting continued, Areli hardly knew where one run started and the other began. However, she did know who was called into the holding area. She watched as the flames were pushed this way and that, as servants shifted the large bowls into ascending numbers. Two, three, four, five, six, and then seven. Kiley and her dragon swooped down towards the ground and disappeared through the large double doors, leaving Areli to circle alone.
It seemed like an eternity before the flames started to move below. Areli would look down periodically. She was trying to control her nerves. Trying to relax her breathing. But when she saw the number eight flickering below, she knew it was time. Areli closed her eyes and told herself to expect greatness. She had to believe. She had to.
I am the greatest column racer in the Empire
, said Areli to herself,
the greatest column racer in the World. You can do this, Areli. This is what you have worked so hard for
.
She motioned her dragon downwards. She was focused. She found calm in the motion. Kaia listened to her every signal, every command. Areli flew through the holding pen and into the lantern covered tunnel. She was in control. Every movement with her hand was subtle and soft. They came to the double-doors of the holding-area, and Areli eased Kaia to a stop.
Areli closed her eyes as she waited. Then she heard the opening of the door. She opened her eyes to sunlight and blue skies. The crisp of the air whipped around her nose. The crowd was so loud that she thought they might be huddled along the mountain wall. Adrenaline was fire in her body, her blood the oil. She took as deep breaths as she could, and then she and Kaia flew out the doors and up towards the elevation.
Areli didn’t even feel the cold or seem to notice the lack of air. Kaia’s emotions were running rampant as Areli fed her hers. Areli tried only to contain her dragon’s excitement. Her dragon’s legs moved alternatively up and down against the marble surface, and she tugged at the reins, telling Areli she was ready. Kaia was ready to run, ready to compete. They both were.
Areli didn’t even hear the first horn. But she heard the second one. The arena was ready. The judge was in place. The composer was waiting on the signal. The drummers were waiting for their cue. Recorders had dipped quills hovering over parchment.
Areli motioned Kaia over to the edge, talons hanging over gold. She didn’t even look at the coliseum or the alley. All she was focused on was the run. Then, she kicked Kaia, and they dove over the front of the elevation.
They descended toward the ground. The wind caressed her headgear and grabbed and flirted with each strand of hair in her ponytail. Areli knew the distances by heart. The ground enlarged itself, like a mouth opening up for food. Tears streamed from squinted eyes, her lungs felt as if they were no more, her bones threatened to escape her skin . . . and she loved it. Areli waited. It had to be perfect. Too late or too early equaled death by the ground or death from the alley. Perfection. Her run could be nothing other than.
She tightened the reins, pressed into the seat. Perfection. They flattened their decent steadily and flew into the lantern-inhabited gold tunnel and into the arena. Millions of eyes looked at her. The wealthiest, most influential and beautiful people in the world, and Areli didn’t pay a single ounce of attention to any of them.
The judge pulled down the flag in his left hand as they soared past him, his eyes catching nothing but a blur of sea-green and red. The composer cued the drums, the recorders focused on the beats, making a small vertical line on the gold embroidered parchment . . . and the pattern had begun.
Areli positioned Kaia to the first column. Instincts took over. Her dragon was always overly excited during a competition, not a fault, but something Areli had to adjust for. She had to pull Kaia off the column, slightly, to avoid being crushed between her dragon’s spine and solid marble. Her hands worked quickly, adjusting and then pushing.
She had her outside leg dug deep into Kaia’s shoulder, hand on the saddlehorn, reins held out to the right. Perfect. The turn was crisp. Tight. Areli kicked Kaia to the second column.
Something was wrong.
She could feel it. Knew it. It was just in her head, she told herself. Areli didn’t have time to figure it out anyway. The second column was coming up too quickly. She needed to react. To command.
Reins out left. Hand on the saddle horn. Butt in seat. She curved around the second column. Areli went to kick Kaia and her right stirrup flew off into the sand below.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Areli was flying with only one leg holding onto the saddle. She was too proud to slow up Kaia’s pace. It was only one column, only one stinking column.
Areli had to dig her leg deeper into Kaia’s shoulder than she ever had before, as she didn’t have the weight and force of the stirrup at her disposal. Hand around saddle horn, with as much strength as Areli could find . . . and then it happened. It all happened so quickly. So abruptly. As Kaia turned her body to swing around the column, leather snapped and tore away, her breast collar, cinch, shoulder straps no more.
Areli was falling. Somehow she let go off the saddle horn. The saddle was no more, a bird without wings. Adrenaline kept Areli holding onto to the reins. She could faintly hear the roar of her dragon as the reins pulled across her neck. Areli saw blood red and black, sea-green and red, sand and sky.