Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

"You should not have spoken to her like that. Galla is possibly more full of herself than even her brother, and she is just as vicious."

"She was being a bitch."

"And now you will have to deal with her. And that means we will both need to be particularly on guard. I do not know what possessed you to be so foolish."

"Like I said, she's a bitch."

Dorrin noted the eyes on them. He grabbed her arm firmly and led her away from the other competitors, his displeasure clear on his face.

"You are acting like a child."

"Do not call me a child."

He shook his head. "Then do not behave as one. You're even worse than I had feared. Of all the possible partners to be bound to for the games, why you ?"

"Gee, thanks. And the feeling's mutual. I don't want to be here any more than you want me here. But these assholes seem to have other ideas about that, so, for now, at least, we're stuck together." She gave the cable connecting them by the wrist a little tug. "Literally, I'd add. And what the hell is with that?"

"It's for the amusement of the crowd as much as to ensure replacement partners do not attempt to flee."

"But the others?—"

"Bound, yes, but the elite competitors have a longer tether. And regular competitors typically only remain so for the first few events."

"Their cable looks the same length as ours."

"It is, at the moment. But the five families have provided special cuffs. They contain a fair amount of additional slack should the competitors require it."

"That's not fair."

"The games are not fair."

"Then why do you compete? If it's a rigged game, why put yourself in an obviously disadvantaged situation?"

Dorrin's anger faltered with a frustrated sigh. "It is something I must do. Leave it at that."

Ziana gauged his words and decided this was not the moment to push for answers. "Fine. But I still think this is a seriously messed up situation."

"On that we are in agreement." He leaned in a little closer, his mood evening out, at least a little bit. "Listen, you are new to these games. To this world, for that matter. I don't know how you go about things on your planet, but here ? Here you must be smart. Strategic. Allowing your emotions to rule you will only harm both of us."

Ziana gave a little nod. "It's like that where I'm from too. But sometimes it's just too hard."

"Overcome your own visceral need to react. It may feel good in the moment, but you will regret it. Believe me."

That's something I'm unfortunately pretty familiar with , she mused, thinking back to a few ill-advised trysts back in the day.

"Okay, I'll try."

"Try? There is no try . You do, or do not, it's that simple. The games are violent, difficult, and at times enraging, but they are not all about aggression and strength. Strategy is equally as important, if not more so. The challenges are not only of our bodies, but of our minds. Our will to succeed. Strength, speed, agility, tactics, there are many aspects to these games, and you will be hard pressed by many of them."

"You don't think I can hack it?" she shot back, feeling her hackles rise slightly at the hint of a doubt as to her capacity as a competitor.

"No, I do not," he replied, utterly indifferent to how his words might land. "But you are a burden I must now deal with. I only hope that you are not a totally lost cause." He turned and strode off, the cable between them tugging her hard. "Come on. We only have a few days to train and perhaps give you at least a chance of making it past the first events."

"Train?"

"Yes. And to start, we run."

He started jogging, forcing her to either keep up or be dragged by the wrist in a most uncomfortable way. Fortunately, Ziana rather enjoyed cardio back home, so keeping pace with him wasn't a big deal, though she suspected he was going easy on her as he seemed to underestimate her to a frustrating degree.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he led her out of the open field area and into the trees.

"We do not have the luxury of easing you into this. You must learn to run on uneven ground. These trails are still quite easy, but they will at least require your accessory muscles to fire and strengthen to keep balance. I only hope it will be enough."

With that he darted onto a narrow dirt trail. The length of the cable between them was just enough to let them run single file without kicking one another, but only just. A little more slack would have made a world of difference, but as they were typically going to be next to one another rather than following one another, it seemed this was the predetermined length, and they'd just have to deal with it.

Around trees, over rocks, and even through shallow streams they ran. Dorrin kept the pace steady, not too fast, but not slow by any means. Ziana had found his comment about using muscles she didn't usually engage funny at first, but after a half hour of steady jogging on uneven ground her ankles, knees, hips, and pretty much everything else, all felt the strain of the effort. It wasn't that it was hard work, but more that her normal cardio was pretty linear, and she simply didn't usually use these muscles in this manner.

Just as he'd said.

She was not about to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that fact.

"This way," he urged, veering back into the open fields once more and redirecting them toward one of the rest zones dotting the area.

They eased into a steady run, their strides opening wider as they ran side by side, no longer hindered by the environment. Dorrin slowed their pace and eased them into a light jog for the final four hundred meters, then walked the final fifty. Only two other competitors were at this particular rest spot. A pair that were contrasting in color, the female with blue skin, the male with red. They appeared to be the same race as one another, however, though the alien ridges on their heads and limbs were definitely not human. But compared to one another they were essentially the same despite the color difference.

They were also very well dressed. Elites, she guessed. The pair watched them with curious, almost amused eyes. Ziana knew the look. That air of superiority. Disdain. These were like the rich kids who drove a new Mercedes as their first car, not acknowledging their privilege but, rather, believing themselves better than everyone else simply by the fluke of being born to wealthy parents.

Dorrin gave the slightest of nods but otherwise ignored them, which they did not seem to appreciate. No groveling from him. No ass kissing. He was utterly unimpressed, and his indifference to their supposed rank was almost palpable.

"Excuse me," he said, stopping just short of shouldering the male aside as he opened one of the sturdy metal boxes that were found at each rest area. A little mist of cool fog wafted out. Whatever was in there, it was cold.

"Drink," he said, tossing Ziana a pouch of some cloudy liquid.

"What is it?"

"Replenishing fluids designed to support proper muscle recovery after strenuous activity."

"Alien sports drinks?" she said with a chuckle, struggling but finally pulling the top off and splashing half the contents all over herself.

The red and blue pair laughed uproariously.

"Looks like you have a mentally challenged partner, Dorrin," the red-skinned male said with a derisive grin.

"She is not from this world, Broodius. Her ignorance is to be expected. But what, I must wonder, is your excuse?"

"You dare ?" the man growled, balling his fists.

Dorrin's lips creased in a very worrying grin. "Oh, please . Give me a reason."

The red man, for all his bluster, apparently also realized that he was no match for Dorrin in a fair fight outside the constraints of the rules of the games. Self-preservation of both his body as well as his social standing were a stronger instinct than entitled ego, at least for the moment. He turned to his partner.

"Come on, Obliosa, we're leaving. The air here has become most foul."

The two of them strode off, heads high as though they'd somehow come out on top of the altercation. Ziana saw the one called Broodius glance to his right and turned her head.

"Oh," she said, realizing what had spurred him to back down in such an odd manner, noting a group of spectators on a platform watching them from a distance. A group which the elites had clearly seen as well. Their victorious body language was all for show.

"What were you doing?" Dorrin asked, irritated but acting calm. "You are acting a fool."

"I was just trying to have a drink."

He shook his head for the umpteenth time and sighed. "Like a child," he grumbled, removing another pouch from the box and handing it to her. "Like this," he said, putting the raised top of his pouch to his full lips. It opened upon contact, allowing him to drink deep, then sealed up tight when he pulled it away from his mouth.

"It opens on its own?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't it?"

"Wow. Alien tech."

"You consider this technology? How utterly odd."

"Maybe, but on my world, we have to open them manually."

"Manually?"

"We twist open the tops, then seal them back up by hand when we're done."

"By hand ? But why?"

"It's just how it's done."

The imposing alien shook his head with a mix of surprise, disappointment, and disbelief.

"How utterly inelegant," he mused. "How… primitive. "

"Hey, we're not primitive just because we open bottles differently."

"Sure, whatever you want to believe. But irrespective of your lack of what we would consider the most basic of container opening skills, you must nevertheless drink. You need to replenish your fluids. Maybe you will fail slower if properly hydrated."

"No need to be a dick about it," she shot back, wrapping her lips around the container, tipping it upside down before tearing open the bottom corner and downing the entire package in a single gulp.

Now that gave him pause. Apparently, shotgunning was not a pastime on this world. Normally, she'd not be showing off those tricks from her college days, but the guy had pissed her off, and she really couldn't think of anything else to do to shut him up. And, incredibly, this worked, at least for a moment.

His surprise wore off quick enough, and they were soon back at it, running from training area to training area, following Dorrin's credo of we never walk . It was obnoxious, but his fitness was undeniable. Unfortunately, Ziana's, while decent, was nowhere near his level.

She kept up, though, forcing herself to climb with him, swim with him, crawl under obstacles with him. But when she took a tumble from a log she was running across when her tired legs had simply had a bit too much, she also fell with him, her weight at the end of his wrist as the cable snapped taut yanking him right off his feet and down to the ground below.

"Ow! Son of a bitch," she grumbled, brushing off a scrape where a rock had left its bloody mark. Her body was covered with them, the terrain not cushy and soft but wild and littered with rocks, sticks, and various plants that would not be comfortable to fall into.

Which, of course, she had just done.

Dorrin was back on his feet in an instant, ignoring the impact as if it were no more than a minor inconvenience. He hauled Ziana to her feet, looked her up and down, then gauged the sun's position in the sky. He shook his head, frustrated but accepting the situation.

"You are too weak to continue," he stated with flat displeasure. "We will cease for the day."

"I can keep going," she protested.

"You will only hurt yourself. More than you've already done, that is, and you are of no use to me if you cannot compete. Come. We will procure an early dinner before we retire to our lodging. Sleep is vital for healing," he said, looking her up and down, shaking his head. "And I fear you will require a fair deal after this showing."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I am not trying to say anything. My point is clear. You have put in the effort, for which I cannot find fault. But you are too weak and too slow to be a proper partner, and injuries will only make your shortcomings stand out more. Now come, we will eat. At least they spare no expense on feeding participants in the games, and that one thing we will both take pleasure in."