Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

The opening ceremony was almost a letdown after so many days with the constant stream of lookie-loos observing their training. In addition to being watched just about everywhere they went with the exception of their housing area, the competitors were also trotted out to the main arena on several occasions to partake in some group practice sessions for the public's amusement.

Dorrin had explained that those inconvenient little events were simply another way for the five families to pull in more profit, both with the sale of deeply discounted access passes for the commoners who could not afford the main events, as well as the gambling that was a core part of the games' culture. The competitors weren't allowed to bet on the games, which made perfect sense, but there was no such restriction on family members, and this was an elephant-sized loophole the elites had not only created, but also exploited with great success.

By the time the actual games began, so many people were either in the hole and desperately trying to win back their losses, or far enough ahead that they felt comfortable in their odds of further victory, that the gambling rose to epic proportions. It was one of the main things that drew gamblers from across the planet once every three years, and plenty of side hustles were engaged in between events.

If you wanted to party, drink, and gamble, the games were the place to be.

As for the contestants, their experience was an entirely different sort of story.

"Where are we going?" Ziana asked as she and her partner, along with all the other competitors, were ushered out the long tunnel to the arena proper.

"The opening ceremony is always held in the arena," Dorrin replied, strangely at ease even as they walked among dozens of fellow competitors.

Ziana saw Maria and her partner at the far end of the group and waved, but she was too far away for conversation. She settled with a nod and mouthing the words good luck . It was something they both would be needing if they hoped to progress to the next round. The roar of the crowd was thunderous as they stepped out into the open, the future victors and losers all marching to a single raised stage large enough to hold all of them.

Dorrin's attitude shifted. It was subtle, but Ziana had spent enough time with him in the last week to sense it without having to really look. He was a little more tense as his eyes darted across the distant part of the arena. She squinted to better see what he was looking at, but they were quickly ushered up onto the stage, the taller competitors blocking her view.

"What is it?" she asked. "What did you see?"

"Our first event."

He'd told her in the course of their training that the events, as well as the order in which they were to face them, were always decided at random, and of the dozens of possible outcomes, only fate would ever be the decider. Even the five families didn't dare openly meddle with that aspect of the games. It was something that was heavily bet on, and as a result the scrutiny was intense. Anyone cheating would risk being found out, and even the elites did not want that sort of trouble.

Gambling and losing was one thing. People would be upset but deal with it. Being cheated by the wealthy, however, could lead to an uprising, and that was simply not acceptable.

"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 start very fast to get ahead of the pack. If we fail to achieve that, we'll be stuck with the slower teams, and we do not want 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 on me . I will be watching them. And when I say go, we run, and I mean run , 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 fa?ade. 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 at a 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.

"Focus," Dorrin commanded, snapping her from her growing panic. "You can do this. I will follow your lead. Just be decisive when you move so I can match you. Indecisiveness is the enemy. Okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," she replied, a little shocked to be taking the lead. "You sure about this?"

"Trust me."

She did, actually. Despite his gruff nature, he'd proven himself utterly competent at pretty much everything thrown their way. If he said for her to go first, there was a reason. In this case, it was because he had faster reflexes than she did, and if his pylon moved to a different level, he would be quicker at adjusting and hopefully keeping their connecting cable slack enough to move to the next.

"Here goes," she said, stepping out onto the first of many wobbly poles.

It sank, but only a little. Right beside her, his did the same.

Okay, we can do this. Again , she urged herself.

They moved forward, pained at how slow the progress was but managing to adapt to the varying heights in their poles. The elites, Ziana noticed, were moving much faster and opening up a bigger lead. Dorrin caught her being distracted.

"Ignore them."

"They're pulling ahead."

"Because they know which poles move the least."

"That's cheating."

"But none can prove it. And even if they could, none would dare. But we are still ahead of the pack. Focus only on the task at hand. That is all that matters. You can do this. I'm right here beside you."

She shook her head, snapping herself out of her distraction and refocusing her mind on what lay directly in front of her. "Okay, here we go."

It was slow going, but they made it to the far side soon enough, jumping down to the soft dismount area having not fallen once.

"We did it! Holy sh?—"

Ziana's words were abruptly cut off as Dorrin once again surged into a run, pulling the cable a little too hard and knocking her off her feet.

"Hey!"

He glared at her, dragging her to her feet in a rush as he headed down the path toward the trees. "That was but the first obstacle. Focus. The race is not over. Now run !"

She managed to keep up as he surged ahead, so pissed off that she actually pulled in front of him for a few strides. "I can run if you don't go pulling me off my feet!"

He didn't even turn to look at her, keeping his pace and forcing her to move faster. "We couldn't wait for you to sightsee."

"Just tell me when you're going to do that, is all I ask. Asshole ."

"Stop talking, woman. You are losing your breath," he hissed, giving the cable a little tug.

Her annoyance surged, but she knew he was right. He might have had the lungs of a marathon runner, but she could definitely not carry on a conversation and run, at least, not at these speeds. So Ziana did the difficult thing. She shut up and ran, the angry ball in her belly pushing her to match his pace out of sheer frustration more than anything else.

"Water obstacle," he called to her as they emerged from the slalom course of trees and rocks. It was a natural pool, though not a terribly big one. She saw the elites up ahead, already running, leaving their wet footprints in their wake.

"Woah," was all she could manage as she took in the sheer drop they abruptly faced.

It was taller than a two-story building, but not by too much. Even so, she was not particularly fond of heights, especially not jumping off of them. She froze in place, the cable tight between them. He turned and took a step back.

"The water is deep enough," was all he said, then quickly picked her up in his arms and jumped.

"Waaaaaaaiiiiit!" she cried out, her words cut off by the rush of water up her nose as she impacted the surface, plunging deep as her partner's greater mass pulled her down with him.

She felt panic, her lungs screaming for air even though she'd only been submerged a moment. But this wasn't logical, rational thought. This was visceral. This was survival on the most core, animal level. Her hands spun in a flurry as she tried to swim to the surface, the light seeming so far away. Suddenly she felt a shove from below as her body was forced up to the surface in a rush. She sucked in massive gulps of air, an enormous arm wrapping around her body and dragging her to shore.

Dorrin climbed out in a single, fluid motion, the water making his clothing stick to his incredible physique. His muscles were pumped and full from their efforts, and his cock stood out long and thick against his thigh under his clinging trousers.

He bent down, his massive hands lifting her from the water as if she weighed nothing, setting her on her shaky feet.

"Now run ," he commanded, but he did at least wait a second for his words to process.

They were looping back toward the arena, Ziana realized as they vaulted over low obstacles, splashing down in more water hazards, almost like some sort of masochistic, alien steeple chase course only with murky water, mud, and uneven terrain.

Dorrin ignored all of that, simply hard-charging ahead, single-minded in his focus, driving them back into the arena for the final sprint to the finish line.

The crowd cheered, money exchanging hands as bets were won and lost. Ziana didn't care about that. She just reveled in the sensation of not being at a full run. She sucked air, her lungs aching from the effort. Her body would hurt soon enough, she was quite sure, but, for the moment at least, her muscles were fully loose and limber.

She stood there, hunched over, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath, the sounds of the spectators loud in her ears, almost rivaling the thundering of her pulse. Finally, she stood up and expanded her chest, rolling her shoulders back and taking a deep breath, forcing her heart to slow, at least a little. The elites were there, all five of their teams looking quite fresh considering what they'd just been through.

Of course, Dorrin had already keyed her in on their subtle method of cheating. Even just a little knowledge of the course ahead of time could allow one to seemingly innocently avoid the more difficult areas. The rest of the competitors weren't so lucky.

Hands slammed into Ziana's back.

"Hey!"

"You tripped me!"

It was Drammala, the violet-skinned woman's orange eyes blazing with anger.

"And you punched me," Ziana shot back. "Try that again and I'll do more than throw a hip."

"Oh, you just try."

The two men looked at one another and shared a nod with an almost bored camaraderie. "Ladies," Gorrum said. "Please. Let us save the aggression for during events, not after them."

"He is right," Dorrin added, nodding to the officials whose attention was now directed their way. "We do not want to be penalized for something so foolish, wouldn't you agree?"

It wasn't a question.

Gorrum nodded and put his arm around his partner's shoulders, leading her away, leaving Ziana and her teammate to watch the other competitors slowly trickle in. A few looked pretty strong, but many were clearly out of their depth, and some were even bloody as they made their way into the arena.

A gong sounded, the crowd's cheers shifting to quieter murmurs. Dorrin turned toward the exit tunnel.

"Wait. What about the others? Maria's still out there."

"Your friend is done. She did not meet the cutoff requirement."

"What do you mean, done? It's only the first race."

"Yes. And this is how the games progress. Every event thins the herd. You didn't think there would be dozens of teams the whole time, did you? That would be absurd."

Ziana felt a rush of worry hit her like a punch to the gut. "But what's going to happen to her?"

"She and her partner will be taken to the losers' area. There they will be unbound from one another and any replacements or those wagering indenture will be separated into individual cells."

"Cells? Like cages?"

"More or less. There will be no luxury for the losers. Most are normal competitors and will simply go back to their lives, but she was one of those whose freedom was on the line. A replacement. And as a loser, she will either serve in one of the five households to pay off her indenture, or she'll be sold to serve another. Either way, you will not be there to see. They are held quite separate from the rest of us."

"But it's not fair."

He snort-laughed. "The games have nothing to do with fairness , and you need to accept that if we are to advance. Typically, the early events are less about finesse and tactics than speed, strength, and agility. These are things the commoners can more easily relate to, drawing them into the games and encouraging more betting. And once they are hooked, they will stay quite engaged all the way until the end. Now, let's get cleaned up and eat. We have both burned a lot of energy today."

"Wait, I see Maria! She's coming in. Her partner is limping!"

"Likely why they did not qualify. Come. The gong has sounded, and competitors are not allowed to interact with the losers."

With that he continued toward the tunnel, pulling his human partner along with him. The crowd watched them go, their images enlarged on floating displays for all to see as they scrolled through the winners and losers. But this one, this unusual woman, was something of a novelty. A human , some unknown race from far away, and she, and her vanquished friend, both drew a lot of curiosity and attention, but none more so than from the one very handsome and muscular man with pale-green skin and bright, amber eyes, standing quite still in the crowd, watching with great intensity.

He had seen their kind before. In fact, he knew their race quite well by now.

"Humans?" Zepharos marveled, staring at the two women. "More survivors from the Raxxian crash. But here? I would never have imagined."

He looked around, surveying the crowd, the officials, the layout of the whole area, as well as the guards mingling among the spectators, his mind racing and a plan forming before he'd even realized what he was considering. He gave himself a little nod and headed out, weaving through the crowd, moving with purpose. The day had just taken an interesting turn. Most interesting. And Zepharos was now smack dab in the middle of it.