The Column Racer (27 page)

On the day after the competition, the papers were already being run with Amira Morris’s passing. She was only seventeen years old. She was survived by her father and mother. Her father ran the Imperial brewery in Sector A. Her favorite color was pink. Her dragon, Abhira, was her best friend, and she had hopes to one day be a professional column racer. Hopes that would never be realized. Her funeral was to be on the first day of the week. All were welcome to attend the guiding ceremony at the coliseum, which would take place as the stars started to paint a darkening sky.

Areli’s parents hid the paper from her. But she easily got her hands on one, for the servants weren’t as deceptive. As she scrolled through the words and the paragraphs describing Amira’s life, all she cared about was one thing. She wanted to know the cause of death. She needed to know the cause of death. Once her eyes found what she was looking for, she had to re-read it several times. Tears came rushing to her eyes, and her lower jaw collapsed downwards as her lips quivered and shook.

The paper said Amira died of a rare disease, a disease that caused acute paralysis. Vaccines would be distributed the following week. It was a disease not prevalent in the sectors of A and B, but a disease that had run rampant in the southern areas of Sector D. It was a disease she was familiar with because her father was called away from his medical facility to try and make a vaccine. It was a disease only affecting children. Areli had never heard of a case involving a person over the age of twelve. The Emperor had killed her, she knew it. How was she supposed to race now? How could she be expected to compete when she was responsible for the death of a rider?

Her father tried to tell her the disease could have easily spread to the Valley, and that it could have been anyone, and they were all fortunate that it wasn’t Areli who had become infected. Areli screamed at him. She begged him to be honest with her. She cried for him to be wholly truthful. His face turned to ash after she said that. Tears escaped down his cheeks. She could tell he tried to hold them in, but it was impossible.

“What do you want of me, Areli?” asked her father, “do you want me to tell you that it is impossible for Amira to have been infected by that disease? Is that what you want? Tell me?”

“I want you to be honest!” cried Areli, “please father, tell me . . . could this have happened to her?” His hand shook as he rested his forehead against the palm of his hand. He took a deep breath, which went in ragged and rough. He grabbed his napkin, wiped his lips, and then the forever stream of tears.

“I don’t have time for this,” said her father, slamming down his napkin and storming out of the room, headed for his carriage. Areli ran after him.

“NO!” yelled Areli, “I NEED TO KNOW. TELL ME, FATHER! I BEG OF YOU, TELL ME!”

“Areli, please stop,” pleaded her mother, following behind her. Areli pried open the carriage door after her father’s driver had already shut it.

“Tell me, father.” He looked at her, a tear escaping his eye.

“I want to protect you,” said her father, “can’t you just let me protect you.” Areli shook her head.

“I don’t need your protecting,” said Areli, “I just need the truth.”

“I looked over the notes,” said her father, who looked down at his hands, “I even requested to double-check the body myself. I didn’t want you to know. I’ve
never
wanted you to find out. No one can ever know about this Areli. Not even your mother. Promise me, Areli. If I tell you what I found, your mouth forever stays sealed.” She gave him a nod of her head.

“I promise.” Her father was hesitant. And then he motioned her into the carriage seat opposite of him. He closed the door as she sat down. He looked pained, as if someone had stabbed him in the stomach and that his next words might be his last.

“There were trace toxins,” said her father, “I ran the blood test myself. She didn’t die of any disease. Someone killed her. You are going to have to watch yourself, Areli. Don’t accept any food from anyone. Have your lunches and snacks continued to be prepared at the house. I don’t know who would allow this. And I know an investigation is pending, but there is someone out there . . . thinning the competition. Promise me you’ll be safe.” Tears expelled from Areli’s eyes. She forced them away with the palm of her hand. She knew no one was ever going to be caught. And if someone was blamed, imprisoned, tortured, and ultimately executed, it wouldn’t be the right person. The Emperor would probably blame it on some undesirable. Someone everyone could easily hate. Someone nobody would mourn their passing from this world.

Talon knew he should be trying to connect with Degendhard, but he wanted to see Areli first. She was the main reason he had come. He walked to the shopping district, knowing when she was down she would always go shopping or to one of the fancy eateries in the marketplaces. And knowing a rider was killed in the last competition. He shamefully counted on her to show up here.

He had traveled to different shops. He found a shirt that Areli might like, and an elegant, small rectangular box made of polished wood the color of amber. He knew it was her birthday a few days before, and he wished he had more money to buy her items she truly deserved. Talon also had a couple of other gift bags in his hands. People get nervous when there’s someone carrying knives around. So, Talon hid his dagger in one of the bags, wonderfully wrapped inside a silk shirt. It wasn’t the sheath he was used to. But it would have to do.

The sun was bearing down on him, and his black hair was thick with sweat. He had been to several restaurants. Ordered drinks and small plates, but after waiting around extensively, he ultimately left disappointed. The sun was at its peak now, and he hated himself for starting to lose hope. He found a fountain and sat down. He closed his eyes and thought about everything he could remember about Areli. He thought about the smell of her when she would return from training. Always fresh and citrusy. He would replay the sound of her voice in his head and the song she once sang him to cheer him up. He had loved her. He still loves her. He was just too scared to admit it. To both her . . . and himself.

He was about to go. About to try some other restaurant. Or go browse the racks at the boutiques that he might have missed.
But then
he saw her. His heart skipped and pounded inside his chest. His lungs seemed to play to a harsh melody, something that ran to an unusual beat and chord. What was he going to say? How was he going to approach her? She was with someone, another girl, but he didn’t care. It was probably another rider, or a friend. He took a step forward to greet her. But then two people approached them that didn’t look like riders, at least not column racers.

He watched as Areli hugged one of the men and the man hugged her back. There was something deeper about this hug that spoke to a relationship more than being just friends.
They’re only friends
, Talon told himself, as he took another step forward. But then there was a kiss. A long, deep, passionate kiss.

Talon took a step back, and then another, until the back of his legs hit against the fountain. He re-took his seat on the smooth limestone surface. He continued to watch as Areli took the boy’s hands into her own and the four of them walked away. Talon couldn’t breathe. His heart, it felt like it was tearing itself up to pieces and tearing down his rib cage with it. Tears started rolling down his face. He was too late. As always. He was too late.

Classes were canceled, due to Amira’s death, on the day following the first of the week, as they were the day before. Areli and the rest of the riders warmed up in the warm-up pen, preparing to guide Amira’s spirit to the stars. The young rider’s body had already been placed in the center of the arena. She rested inside a square golden box, submerged in a pool of dragon’s oil, ready to be set ablaze.

Areli rode with a heavy heart and tearful eyes. She was to blame. It was her fault. If only she would have checked Kaia’s breastcollar during the Sorting Competition. If only she would have checked the integrity of the saddle. Then Amira would be alive right now. And that person, even though not important to anyone, wouldn’t have been secretly executed that morning, information she learned from Fides, as her father was witness to the beheading.

When the signal was given, the riders rode down in file. A funeral would be the only time the riders would ever fly through the tunnel as a team. Areli followed behind Perla and her dragon, Fabrizio, which had beautiful white skin with stripes of silver. As they neared the holding pen doors, they were allowed straight through, as the large gold doors were already opened. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, it would have been a spectacular sight – Fides in front, Kiley in the back.

They flew through the alley. As they entered into the coliseum, they were met by a sea of lights, as each person present held a candle to assist in the delivery of Amira to the comfort and security of the stars. And there was not one seat left unfilled. Areli trailed a dragon’s length behind Perla, and each girl stirred their dragon once around the coliseum as they waited for the lighting of the dragon’s oil. The crowd was singing songs to the stars, pleading them to accept their fallen child.

Areli watched as the middle of the arena turned into a ball of fire. It was time. Amira was going home. Servants made a lid of quickly burning brush, tree limbs, and hay, building a column of smoke. A pathway for Amira to follow. The riders kept their formation as they circled once more around the coliseum, but this time they flew only feet from the ground, their dragon’s displacing sand with each flap of their wings.

After the lap, the riders charged towards the billowing smoke that rose steadily above the gold coffin. They spiraled their way up and around the smoke, giving Amira more assistance to reach her destination. The crowd became louder. They flew until they were above the clouds, and then they flew their dragons back in through the glass dome, back to the floor of the warm-up pen. Everyone was in tears. Everyone’s shoulders could feel the weight of despair.

Areli barely got her feet to the ground as she climbed down the ladder. She just barely heard the warning that was shouted at a distance. She fell to the ground hard. Her air stolen away by the fall onto the marble floor. Tegan was being restrained above her.

“You
killed
her!” yelled Tegan, “I hate you, Areli. I promise to the stars to always and forever hate you!”

Areli rushed to her locker. She fell to her knees, and puked next to the fireplace. She felt a consoling hand of one of her servants trying to soothe her.

“GET OUT!” yelled Areli, “GET OUT, PLEASE, GET OUT!” All in the room left, except for one. Tears rolled down her skin as she watched him carefully fold the sheets of last week’s paper. The one that held the report of Amira’s death.

“Come on, Areli,” said the Emperor, “dispense with the dramatics. Wasn’t this your wish? To race for the great city of Abhi? To race for your Emperor?”

“You,” said Areli, her voice finding a way to clear her throat, “you killed her. Why did you kill her?”

“Because,” said the Emperor, “because she was dispensable. You, however, are not. I couldn’t have the team’s second best rider sitting out the entirety of the season. And quite frankly, it was a toss-up between her or Perla. Neither one has a legitimate shot at winning this season’s World Race. I figure I did her a favor. Now, she won’t have to bear the pain of losing her dragon. Of living her life with her dreams unfulfilled.”

“Why?” asked Areli, “why am I so important to you?”

“Besides the fact that you’re a great rider,” said the Emperor, “well . . . this Degendhard is nasty business. It’s quite the diversion when a rider from Sector D is racing for her first World Race, being groomed by the best trainers and coaches in the world. You are the distraction to my slight of hand. The leash fits better around the necks of those in Sector D, when they actually have something they’re invested in, besides their pitiful little lives. Sector C shares in Sector D’s sympathies. As well as Sector B. You are the topic of conversation. Your story overshadows the death total and villages destroyed that would otherwise populate every page of every sector’s newspapers. All eyes are on you . . . not on Degendhard. Your undefeated season gave me the perfect cover to keep doing what I’ve been doing. You think you’re responsible for Amira’s death. She was nothing. A nobody compared to you. Just you being here, at this school, has cleared away the focus on Degendhard. You’re my greatest diversion.” Areli didn’t know how to respond.

“I thought you want to find Degenhard?” asked Areli, “isn’t that why you killed all those people?”

“Those people killed themselves,” snapped the Emperor, “the moment they let Degendhard enter into their beds. They have conspired against their Emperor, Areli. Don’t you think they deserve to be punished?” Areli didn’t answer him. She looked at the ground. She could not bare another word from this monster’s mouth. “The simple fact is truly simple. People are getting restless. And since this Degendhard fellow is entrenched in the shadows, he is making a mokery of my rule. It was all fun and games at first, but now I have to be more precise. More tactile. Let the people think that I’ve forgotten about their little heroic figure, but I haven’t. And I won’t. Let’s just say that I started this campaign with a blunt sword. Weilding it wildly. I might have swung with purpose, but I didn’t register any aim. Now, my sword is sharp. I will find Degendhard. You can count on that Areli, but I don’t want to do him any more favors in the process.”

“So, if Degendhard – if Degendhard wasn’t around, you wouldn’t have recruited me?”

“No, we still would have recruited you,” said the Emperor, “you can’t do away with the rules. However, your undefeated season was fortuitous. For everyone involved.” The Emperor held a single finger to his mouth, making a
shhhh
sound. “But that’s between us. I wasn’t lying when I said you were the next great thing. Gossip. People love it. Crave it. It’s like alcohol or the roots from a Saphlu tree. When the world becomes dark, give them something to cheer about.

“I know what you might be thinking. And I am going to strongly advise you against it. If you don’t win, or at least give everything you have during every race . . . Then, like Amira,
you
become a nobody. And you’ve seen what I do with nobody’s. Except in your case, your parents and dragon would go before you. I have already dreamed of a delicious scenario for you. Just in case you did think about turning or running, or simply giving up. Your mother . . . Arina . . . well, she’ll be raped . . . raped over and over again, until her body will no longer have feeling. I’ll cut off her fingers, so you’ll never be able to hold her hand. I will remove her legs, so she could no longer take those walks in the gardens she truly loves. And then I will beat her. I will beat her until she becomes unrecognizable. I will beat her until she looks as if she fell from the sky.

“Your father, I will have his hands removed. He’ll never practice medicine again. He will no longer be able to do those procedures that he so very cherishes. His eyes will be plucked from his skull. His tongue ripped from his mouth. His ears burned away from his head.

“And your dragon would have her wings removed. Her tail would be hacked off. And I will have my men use arrows to trace an outline of those beautiful red speckles she has. And then, I will make sure she gets fed to a cage of starving lions. And then there’s you.

“You’ll be present for each of their deaths, of course. But – well . . . maybe I’ll leave it to your own imagination as to what things I could have in store for you. I’ll give you a hint, though. None of the things that would be done to your parents . . . your dragon . . . would even come close in comparison to the terrible things I have planned for you if you don’t do what I brought you here to do. You are my perfect diversion, Areli. Keep it that way. I’ll give you the same warning I gave you when you first got her. Win – and you live. Win – and your family lives.”