Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sleep had done them both a world of good, but while Ziana and Dorrin may have woken less irritated than the night before, they had, nevertheless, broken that cardinal rule and gone to bed mad, and their sleep had suffered as a result.

Grumpy and a bit groggy to boot, the pair decided to skip making breakfast in their bungalow, opting instead for the fresh air and catered cooking of the dining area. Not only would they not have to work in close quarters preparing their morning respite, but the distraction of other competitors also served to keep their minds off the unpleasantness of the prior night.

Both ate quietly, seated close by the necessity of their linking cuffs on their wrists rather than choice. Ziana watched the others, especially the elites. While the commoner teams were rather hushed in their conversations, the members of the five families were almost giddy with excitement, erupting in laughter every time they looked over at the lesser competitors.

"They know what today's challenge is," Dorrin commented, his first words of the day, beyond suggesting they dine out.

"And? Why are they laughing? They'll have to do it too."

"We will find out soon enough."

As it turned out, every team was directed out of the arena and into a series of transit vehicles. The elites all flew together, the craft hovering just above the ground rather than properly flying, while the rest piled into the remaining three vessels.

Ziana was a bit concerned now. This was new. Different. And different could be bad, at least in her experience on this world so far.

"What's this?"

"We are being transported to one of a few possible locations."

"Obviously. But why? I thought the games were always in or around the arena."

"Typically. But there are exceptions. Regardless, we will be observed, have no doubt. Nothing stops the gamblers."

They traveled for only ten minutes or so, the craft flying low and slow, the clear walls allowing the cheering gawkers a good look at the competitors as they headed off to whatever the challenge du jour was going to be. And as they approached the base of a series of low hills surrounding a rocky mountain, Dorrin seemed to realize what it was.

"Ah, this one."

Ziana stared, waiting for more. "And? What is it?"

"A terrain challenge. While they try not to reuse the exact same courses, some naturally occurring ones remain more or less the same over the years. It is the obstacles and hazards that change."

"Hazards?"

"Traps. Pitfalls. You never know what they've cooked up for the games. It's partly what keeps the betting so intense. The observers get to watch players blunder into things or not, betting on the probable outcomes."

"So, it's fixed."

"This one? No, actually. Even the elites will have to run the course like the rest of us. They may know what an obstacle might be, but as they are set in place only just before the event, they will not know where ."

"Interesting," Ziana mused as their ride slowed to a full stop.

It was a small clearing with bleachers set up with luxury boxes. All were sporting directly linked gaming terminals as well as viewing screens for the wealthier gamblers who could afford to be this close to the action. The rest would be gaming back at the arena, watching entirely remotely.

"Competitors!" a very tall man with vibrant turquoise skin and a bright red costume called out to the assembled players. "Welcome to today's challenge. This is to be a timed terrain challenge. There is a general course to follow, and each team must physically touch the checkpoints along the way. Now, I know what you're thinking, but the checkpoints are entirely free of booby traps or other hazards. However, that cannot be said for the rest of the course. Whichever route you decide to follow is your choice, and the consequences of such a decision is yours as well. There are water stations at each checkpoint. It is highly recommended you hydrate thoroughly when you can. It will be a long day. A general course map is available at each checkpoint. I advise you study them well."

The teams muttered amongst themselves, glancing at the map screen that activated at the starting line, then turning and scanning the tree line and visible hills for any overt sign of whatever obstacles they might face. Naturally, nothing was visible.

"Prepare yourselves. You begin when the gong sounds."

Ziana felt the pre-race adrenaline flood her body making her legs feel a little wobbly. Stop it, Zee. It's just a race. Sure, one with traps and obstacles, but still a pretty straightforward race, so calm down.

Dorrin, on the other hand, seemed quite calm. He was going to run the race and finish before the cutoff, even if he had to carry the troublesome human woman over his shoulder the whole damn way.

The elites lined up at the front of the pack. Preferential treatment, as was typical for them, but not likely to make much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. From what they'd been told, this was going to be a very long day, and a mere few seconds head start was just a drop in the enormous bucket of the entire event's duration.

The gong sounded a few minutes later, and the teams rushed out of the staging area into the trees. Dorrin pushed the pace, urging Ziana to hurry up so they could get clear of the main pack and focus on the terrain without distractions.

"We should go slower. He said there were obstacles," she objected.

"Never this close to the starting area. They want us to thin out first. Otherwise, teams would just follow one another and capitalize on someone else's misfortune."

"But the gamblers?—"

"Are always watching. And they study the traps with extra focus given all the variables they bet on. When money is on the line, they take no chances."

Dorrin's wrist yanked hard as Ziana abruptly stopped.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.

"You said this is all about the gamblers, right?"

"Yes. And if we do not get moving, we will undoubtedly upset many of them. And trust me, you do not want to lose their goodwill. It can mean the difference between surviving to the next round or being allowed to wash out. Or forced out, for that matter."

Ziana heard him but wasn't looking at Dorrin. Her eyes were gazing off in the distance. Not at ground-level, however. She was scanning the skies.

"Holy shit," she quietly gasped.

"What?"

"You said they were always watching, right?"

"Yes."

"And they paid particular attention to the traps and obstacles."

"Right again. What is your point?"

"My point is, they've given us an advantage. We just have to pay attention and take advantage of it."

"I'm not following, which is what you should be doing right now. Following me as we keep moving."

"You're not listening, Dorrin. There are extra eyes on the dangerous parts, don't you see?"

"Of course there are."

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Apparently, as you are stating the obvious like a damn child."

"Fuck you, Dorrin. I want us to get through today in one piece. And if I'm right, we might do a hell of a lot better than that. Look over there, above the next ridgeline just to the right, even with the top of the tree line. See it? The little ball thing hovering there?"

He squinted, looking up, raising his hand to shade his eyes.

"Don't be obvious!" she hissed, yanking his hand down. "We don't want them figuring out what we know for as long as possible."

He was about to argue, to question what, exactly, it was that she thought they knew. Then it hit him. A tiny ball floated high in the air, barely visible from the ground.

"Those are additional observation orbs," he said quietly.

"I assumed as much."

"And they are only deployed at places where there is a particular interest to the betting public, right?"

His annoyed scowl softened into a stunned grin, though he did his best to keep his expression neutral for whatever eyes might be on them. "Ziana, you're a genius."

"Now you're getting it."

"They're almost an afterthought to the rest of us. But you? You're not from here, and what we don't even register anymore caught your attention. And rightly so. Those orbs are a roadmap of the traps and hazards."

"Exactly. And if we slow down and pay attention, we can avoid them, all of them , while sticking within the course boundaries."

"We'll have a huge time advantage."

"I know."

"We will only have to cover the distance and any natural hazards."

A broad grin spread across her lips. "Like I said, I know. So, if you're done being a stubborn ass, what do you say we go and crush this thing and give those elite bastards something to think about?"

"I say you're on."

It was still going to be a long day, and they would have to put in the miles no matter what. But without the endless annoyance of obstacles scrubbing time, they would have a pretty straight-forward go of it. Dorrin was almost humming with cheer as they started out again, this time at a casual jog rather than a run. They would pace themselves. Pace themselves and narrowly avoid the hazards so as to not let those in charge know they'd figured out a glitch in the system until it was too late.

Best of all, this was not cheating. With so many eyes on this particular event, there was no way they could be accused of any such thing. No one, not even the elites, had seen the course before today. It would look like an incredible stroke of luck, nothing more.

Oh, some gamblers would lose a lot on them, no doubt. But the longshot bets would pay a small fortune. More than that, their unusual success would be the talk of the games, at least for a day or two.

Filthy, sweaty, scraped, and bloody, Flagro and Galla crossed the finish line late in the afternoon, arms thrown high in a victorious gesture.

They were met with no more than murmurs.

"Why are they not cheering?" Galla asked her brother. "We are victorious. I demand recognition!"

The woman's confusion melted into rage the moment she saw Dorrin and Ziana reclining in the shade, sipping a fruit cooler and looking quite rested and refreshed.

"Oh, hey! Glad you finally finished," Ziana called out. "We've been waiting for you guys forever. Hope it wasn't too hard for you out there."

"You! How did you?—"

"Beat you? We're just better, I guess."

Flagro spun, his attention laser-focused on the officials overseeing the event. "What is the meaning of this? We won. We are the victors."

"Apologies, but you came in second," the man replied, hoping to placate the angry man but knowing this was just damage control at this point.

"Impossible!" He shifted his ire to Dorrin, his face reddening with rage. "What did you do?"

"Do? We ran the course, just like the rest of the competitors," Dorrin replied, pausing to sip his drink for punctuation.

"You cheated!"

"Cheated? How, Flagro? The entirety of our race was on screen for everyone to observe. No, you simply lost. And quite badly at that."

The siblings shifted their attention to the scoreboard. It was then that they realized the worst part of it all. Not only had they not won the event—which really didn't matter as they were all added up on an accumulated points basis—but these two commoners had finished so far ahead of them that they'd skyrocketed in the overall rankings. In fact, the gaming community was going wild as a result. Never before had a commoner team, let alone one hindered by a replacement competitor, staged an upset like this.

"No. It's not possible," Galla blurted. "The pathetic human? I can't believe it."

Ziana did the worst thing she could have done to the privileged heiress. She ignored her. Calm and relaxed, she instead turned to Dorrin with an exaggerated stretch.

"Hey, Dorrin. Wake me when the rest are back, will you? I think I'm going to take a little nap."

"Of course," he replied with barely concealed mirth.

Dorrin and Ziana weren't in the lead in the standings, but they'd drawn within striking distance. And if their unexpected climbing the ranks was a victory cake, seeing Flagro and Galla seethe without a damn thing they could do about it was the most delicious icing they could have asked for.