“What’s the event?” Ziana quietly asked as they settled into place with the others.
“It appears to be a speed challenge with some obstacles. Nothing beyond your abilities, but we will need to startveryfast to get ahead of the pack. If we fail to achieve that, we’ll be stuck with the slower teams, and we donotwant that to happen.”
“Got it. What now?”
“Now we wait for them to make the opening announcements and introduce each team. This will take a little while as the betting tables always react to any new variables they might notice.”
“Such as?”
“Injuries. Size differences. Anything, really. Some are superstitious and bet if someone is wearing a certain color. There is often no logic to it. Regardless, it is a delay we must endure.”
“And then? I mean, when they’ve finished the introductions?”
A little smile tickled the corners of his lips. Ziana had rarely seen the expression on his face. Dorrin was looking forward to this, and with no small degree of pleasure.
“Then? Then you follow close and fast. The start is often informal and a surprise, adding an element of reaction timing to the mix. I’ve experienced this before, and the starter appears to be of the Kuantos family. One who has certain tells.”
“Like a gambler?”
“Precisely. But the announcer is from a different family, and one I do not know. But do not think about that. Just be ready and focus onme. I will be watching them. And when I say go, we run, and I meanrun, as fast as you can. The course will almost certainly bottleneck once we round the bend and exit the arena, and we need to be well toward the front of the pack.”
“Okay,” she replied, the adrenaline increasing in her veins as she waited for the event to begin. “How much longer do you think?”
Dorrin listened as the announcer took a particularly long time introducing each team, drawing it out to better stoke the betting fires.
“It may be a while. I will tell you when we are close.”
As it turned out, the announcer, one of the older cousins from the Reejellian family, was not about to relinquish his turn in the spotlight, and the ordinarily lengthy introductions took even longer than normal. Ziana could tell this was out of the ordinary when even the crowd appeared to be getting antsy.
“Soon,” Dorrin said softly, acting casual and even bored, just like so many other competitors, but Ziana could see his muscles tense and ready for action beneath his relaxed façade. And his tension became her tension, her own body flooding with yet more adrenaline as she flexed her legs and glutes in subtle preparation.
It was a mind game as much as a physical one, and letting those around them slip into a sense of complacency was just as important as the rest. If they could get the jump on them, that could be the difference between victory and?—
“Now!” Dorrin exclaimed just before a horn abruptly sounded without warning.
He’d been watching, just like he said he would, and he’d actually timed it perfectly. Ziana would have taken a moment to be impressed with his prowess, but she was already running ata full sprint, her legs churning as fast as they’d carry her, the line between her wrist and his barely providing her enough slack to swing her arms at this speed. But Dorrin moderated his pace despite his clear desire to go faster, forcing himself to slow so as not to accidentally yank her off her feet with too emphatic a swing of his arms.
Ziana’s lungs hurt from the sudden effort, but they didn’t burn. Not yet, at least, though she wasn’t sure just how much longer she could keep this up. The pace was blistering, and the dozen lead teams were all jockeying for position while the lesser competitors struggled to keep up, the larger group hindering their progress, just as Dorrin had said it would.
Another team was running right beside them. A slim, green-skinned man named Gorrum and his violet-skinned partner, Drammala. She and Ziana were running side-by-side, jostling and elbowing one another as they fought for position.
“Watch it!” Ziana growled as a fist caught her in the side. She countered with a hip check, a skill retained from her high school soccer days, the impact hard enough to knock Drammala off her stride and tangle her legs with her partner, the two of them tumbling to the dirt. That met with uproarious approval from the spectators.
The cheers of the crowd faded only slightly as they rounded the corner and exited the arena into the cordoned-off obstacle course. Now was the first time they’d see what exactly was in store for them, and it was also as Dorrin had predicted.
The teams had to funnel into a narrow path that led into the woods, the viewing platforms woven into the canopy above, allowing spectators to watch from an elevated vantage point. The competitors moved in single file for a minute before reaching an elevated platform leading out to a wide area easily big enough to accommodate them all.
But this was not a good thing.
“Moving pylons,” Dorrin called out as they approached a field of what looked like sawed-off telephone poles.
Ziana’s stomach sank. “Shit.”
“Just do as you trained,” he said, trying to encourage her, though his words were not exactly reassuring.
This was one of the particularly troubling obstacles Ziana had fallen off of more times than she could count in their practice area. The way they worked was devious. All of them looked the same, but the amount they would dip into the ground when loaded with weight varied wildly. That alone had sent her tumbling repeatedly until she got the hang of simply maintaining her balance. They only went up and down at this point, so once that was accounted for, she felt somewhat okay.
The whole chained-to-a-partner thing, however, was a royal pain in the ass, and it meant having to be extra aware of your partner’s position at all times even as both hopped from pole to pole, slowly crossing the field. If you timed it wrong or didn’t pay attention, the cable would pull you both off, sending you tumbling to the ground. In this case it was rocky and a few meters down. Not enough to kill you, but it would hurt.
