Raia scurried to the supplies by the front of the cart. She’d seen the saddle there. Hefting it out, she carried it to the cage.
The lion was lying at Trainer Verlas’s feet.
“Place it on his back,” Trainer Verlas instructed.
Cautiously, Raia entered the cage. She lowered the saddle onto the lion. He lunged forward with a roar, and she screamed and slammed against the back of the cage with her arms over her face.
Then she heard a whimper.
He was lying down, cringing, while Trainer Verlas fastened the saddle onto him.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” Raia said. She’d reacted without thinking. What if she cowered like that while she was on him? Riders were supposed to be in command, and she was barely in command of herself.
“Of course you’re not. But it’s okay, because there’s no such thing as ready,” Trainer Verlas said. “There’s only the moment and what you do with it.” She pointed to straps on the saddle as well as to a lump of leather at the front. “You tie yourself in here. You hold here.”
At least it was a training saddle. A race saddle had no straps.
She didn’t find that overly reassuring.
Raia tiptoed toward the lion. It watched her. He was far more massive than an ordinary lion. It would be like mounting a horse. A very dangerous horse. Gingerly, she touched the saddle.
He shuddered.
“Can you really keep him from killing me?” Raia asked.
“This time,” Trainer Verlas promised. “I can’t interfere in an official race. But it’s only us today, and we’re nowhere near a track. All you need to do is hang on.”
“But if I’m just cargo right now, why do this?” It felt as if she was endangering herself for nothing. Shouldn’t she learn to control him first, and then work up to riding him? Then she realized she was questioning her teacher again—exactly the kind of behavior the augurs had always scolded her for. They’d told her she’d succeed if only she’d apply herself to her lessons instead of questioning them. She had applied herself, but she’d also questioned, in large part because the lessons didn’t seem to work for her. What if the same was true here? “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to fail again.”
“You can’t fail,” Trainer Verlas said. “All you need to do is feel whatever you feel as you ride, and then you’ll know whether you found the right answer or not.”
Raia climbed onto the saddle, and the kehok shuddered again beneath her. She could feel his shaking up through her thighs. Her trainer helped her secure the straps. She wrapped her hands around the saddle grip. Her heart felt as though it was thumping so fast that the beats blurred into one another.
“Go,” Trainer Verlas said. “Run.”
The lion shot out of the cage. Raia screamed as the wind slammed into her. She hunched over the saddle as it shook beneath her. And then the lion was running across the sands.
Wind streamed into her, stealing the scarf from around her head, yanking her hair backward. She was within a cloud of tan, as the lion kicked up sand as he ran. The sun beat on her back. And she realized she was no longer screaming.
This . . . this was amazing!
The lion ran across the sands, and she felt as if she were within the wind, part of it, sweeping across the dunes. His gait was even, gliding over the desert, but he was running so fast that the sand around her was blurred.
Riding the lion, she felt free.
And she finally understood what Trainer Verlas was saying: I chose this. That was her reason. It didn’t matter if it was anyone else’s. It was hers, and that was enough.
I am enough.
Chapter 9
Everything changed after Raia rode the lion.
Before dawn the next day, Tamra and Raia were back at the training grounds, dragging out the cart, hooking up the rhino-croc, and driving out into the sands with the black lion kehok. This time, Raia was the one to fasten the saddle, with Tamra holding the black lion steady.
“You’ll keep me alive again, won’t you?” Raia asked.
“Of course,” Tamra promised. And true to her word, she kept her focus on the kehok—at least for the first few days. Slowly, she withdrew her control, though she stayed ready and alert, as she watched Raia and the black lion run across the sands. She can do this, Tamra thought. She has the fire. She only needed for her kehok to feel her burn.
On the third day, Tamra and Raia removed the chain net and harness. His speed doubled, and Raia rode with an enormous, giddy smile.
On the fifth day, after they’d run so far they were spots on the horizon and then returned, Raia slid off the lion and announced, “I’m ready. Teach me how to race him on my own.”
“You already know.”
Raia stifled a sigh, but Tamra still heard it. “You’ve been saying from the beginning—I have the fire inside, but I—”
“I haven’t commanded the black lion during your rides since your third day.”
That silenced Raia.
Tamra smiled.
From there, the lessons accelerated. Seven days before the first qualifying race, Tamra introduced the challenge of running with other kehoks. She controlled the rhino-croc, forcing it to run alongside the black lion. At first, the black lion was distracted, trying to attack the other monster. But then he seemed to realize that only slowed him down, and he began to ignore the other racer.
So Tamra made the rhino-croc crash into them, cutting them off.
This time, the black lion did attack, and it took Tamra imposing her will on top of Raia’s to separate the black lion from the rhino-croc. Blood was spattered on the sand as the two monsters circled, growling at each other.
“Stop for a rest?” Tamra offered. Soon, they’d need to take shelter from the searing heat anyway. Her tunic felt saturated with sweat.
“No.” Raia mounted the black lion again.
With a rush of pride, Tamra tightened her grip on the rhino-croc’s mind. She performed the same move, cutting them off, and this time the black lion tossed him back and kept running.
The next day, Tamra added the lion-lizard to the exercise. She ran both kehoks close to the black lion, trying to mimic the claustrophobic feel of running with twenty other racers and their riders inside the racetrack.
Raia was able to get the lion to leave them in the dust.
Five days before the first qualifying race, Tamra stopped Raia as she went to haul out the transport cart. “You’ll run on the track today.”
It was time to see how well she ran against other racers.
Raia didn’t question that. Instead, she ran for the saddle and into the stable to prepare the black lion, while Tamra limped to the racetrack. All the time out on the sands had aggravated her old injury, as much as she tried to hide it.
She leaned against the gate to the starting stalls and gazed across the familiar oval of sand. It was churned up by the other racers whom the other trainers had been running through here, day after day.
“You’re going to try the track today?” Osir asked from behind her.
“She’s ready,” Tamra said.
“After one week? On that monster? Doubt that.”
“Then watch,” Tamra said. “You’ll see.”
She said it with a confidence she didn’t feel. It was one thing to race across the open sands. It was another to experience the claustrophobic intensity of the track, knowing your trainer couldn’t help you, knowing it was just you and a monster who wanted to rip you apart. Still, the girl had come a long way in a short amount of time.
And they really didn’t have a choice.
“It helped to not have the distraction of other students,” Tamra said.
“Tell yourself that. Green rider and an unbroken killer?” Osir snorted. “My riders have been learning how to function within a group, to take the curves in the track, to handle a crowd. Mark my words: yours will spook. And as long as she’s within the track’s shield, you can’t help her. None of us can.”
�
�I know all this.”
“It doesn’t seem like it.”
“She has the control.”
Osir lowered his voice. “Place a wager?”
“I don’t bet on my riders.” Tamra pushed away from the gate and began to walk back to the stable. Raia would need help bringing the black lion to the starting stall—she wouldn’t know where to go, and he might resist the change from the open desert.
“Because you know she’ll lose!” Osir called after her.
Over her shoulder, she flashed him a smile that showed none of her doubt. “Because I know she’ll win. It’s not sporting to bet on a sure thing.”
Inside the stable, Raia talked to the black lion as she saddled him. “Today we’re not going out into the desert to train. We’re going to run around a racetrack. So I need you not to eat me.”
She never knew how much he understood, but it made her feel better to talk.
“You know we’re a team. We want the same thing. Are you going to work with me today?” She shouldn’t phrase it as a question. More firmly, she said, “We’re going to work together. You and me.”
Yanking on a strap, she tightened the saddle. He growled, low. “Sorry, but it has to be tight,” she told him. Otherwise she’d go flying off, which he’d probably like, but she wasn’t keen to try.
He glared at her, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He no longer wore the iron chain net—it would slow him down too much in a race—but he wasn’t loose either. His head was muzzled, and his legs were shackled. Regardless of the progress they’d made, she wasn’t releasing him until Trainer Verlas told her it was time. Just because I’ve ridden him doesn’t mean I’m not still afraid of him. She was fully aware of what he could do.
She heard footsteps enter the stable.
The other kehoks screamed.
“Oh, shut up.” It was Jalimo, one of the other students.
Rising up on her toes, Raia peeked over the stall door and saw two of the three students she’d met before—Jalimo and Algana. She hadn’t had a chance to talk with them since she’d arrived, and she still hadn’t met any of the other students who trained here or any of the paying students. She’d always been here and on her way out into the desert before they arrived, and back well after they left. Her throat suddenly dry, she said tentatively, “Hi.”
“Hey, you’re not dead!” Jalimo said. He elbowed Algana. “She’s not dead.”
Algana beamed at her. “Raia! We heard a race cart was out, and we thought . . . well, that is . . .”
Jalimo jumped in helpfully. “What she means to say is: we thought you were dead and your trainer took a cart to dispose of your body. Lots of sand. Jackals. You know.”
“That is not what I meant to say,” Algana said.
“It wasn’t?”
“Well, it was, but then I thought better of it. She obviously wasn’t dead because the cart kept coming back and going out again.” Algana picked up a saddle and slung it onto the back of a rhino-like kehok with cheetah markings on her side.
“Right,” Jalimo said, clearly having not put those facts together. “Anyway, I thought those carts were just for getting to races,” he continued as he began to prepare another kehok, a lizard with powerful elephant-like legs.
Raia felt her face warm, and she hoped they couldn’t tell. “We, um, borrowed one?”
“You should have trained here with us!” Algana said. “What were you doing out in the desert anyway? My trainer says it’s dangerous to give the kehoks a taste of freedom. They’ll spend the whole race trying to break out of the track.” She quickly added, “Not that I’m criticizing your trainer!”
“She is,” Jalimo said.
“A little bit,” Algana admitted. “But we were worried about you.”
“You were?” Raia hadn’t thought they’d give her a moment’s thought beyond their one conversation. She hadn’t thought about them at all, and now she felt bad about that. She’d been so focused on running faster and faster with the black lion. That was one of the best things about riding: not thinking about anything else.
Okay—she didn’t feel that bad.
Silar entered the stable, ducking through the doorway—she wasn’t quite tall enough that she needed to duck. It was most likely habit. “Yeah, they gossip about you all the time. Hi, Raia, good to see you again.”
“Friendly, worried gossip!” Algana yelped.
“Nothing bad,” Jalimo said. “Just that you’d probably been gored by your kehok, left while you bled out, and then dumped in the dunes for the buzzards to find and destroy any evidence.”
“But it was friendly because we didn’t want that to happen,” Algana said, with a hopeful don’t-be-angry-at-me smile. “And if it had, we wanted you to be reborn as something nice. Like a butterfly, at least.”
Raia laughed.
Silar went directly to another stall, one with a kehok that looked like a dog made of silver metal. “Trainer Osir said we’ll be racing one another.”
Raia’s laugh died. When Trainer Verlas said she’d be on the racetrack, Raia had assumed it would be solo—a few laps to get the feel of the track. She didn’t think she’d be racing with other riders. At least not immediately. I shouldn’t have assumed. “He did?”
“Said we have to be ready for anything on the track,” Silar said. “And that you would . . . keep us on our toes.” Raia doubted those were the words he’d used. And she wondered if Trainer Osir had other motivation. He’s made it obvious he doesn’t approve of how Trainer Verlas handles her riders and racers. He probably wants me to fail.
She wondered if Trainer Verlas realized that, and decided the answer was yes.
She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.
Jalimo looked worried enough for the both of them. “Just to be clear, do we need to worry about your kehok trying to gut our kehoks?”
Probably, Raia thought. “I won’t let him?” She tried to sound confident, but her voice curled up at the end as if in question. She winced and wanted to ask: Can we still be friends if I almost kill you?
“Great!” Jalimo said, as if the uncertainty wasn’t obvious in her voice.
Raia turned to the black lion and whispered, “You won’t let me down, will you?”
He growled.
She reminded herself she needed to be confident, like Trainer Verlas. She wondered if Trainer Verlas had ever doubted herself with a kehok. There must have been a first time she tried to ride one. Raia knew she’d had accidents—the limp that sometimes worsened was from a race. Surely, she’d had some doubts at some point?
The students quit talking when their trainers came in. Raia was relieved to hear she wasn’t the only one who needed assistance in safely coaxing her kehok out of the stable. She kept the shackles on him for the trip to the starting stalls on the track. The openings looked ominous, like mouths ready to chew them up and spit them out.
“He hasn’t run on a track ever,” Raia said anxiously. She was hoping Trainer Verlas would say she could take a lap without any of the other riders and racers. Truth be told, she was hoping her teacher would tell her to bring the lion back to the stable and forget this folly.
“Run him as if you were on the desert sands,” Trainer Verlas advised instead. “Treat the turns as if they’re sand dunes. Use them to build power. Let him loose on the straightaways.”
“It will all be new to him.”
“You’re coddling him.”
“I just don’t want him to kill my friends.”
“Then don’t let him.” Trainer Verlas acted as if it were easy.
The first time she ran with the rhino-croc it hadn’t gone well. In fact, the first time she’d tried anything new it hadn’t gone well. She didn’t see why this would be any different.
“It’s going to be a disaster,” Raia warned.
Trainer Verlas stopped, which meant Raia stopped, which meant the kehok had to stop. He pawed the sandy ground and snorted at them through the muzzle. “Raia. Qui
t it. You have to be in the moment.”
Raia hung her head. “I know.” She didn’t know why she was feeling so nervous when everything had been going so great out on the dunes. Maybe because it has been going great. I don’t want to go back to messing up.
Of course, worrying about messing up was the exact thing that could mess her up. But recognizing the paradox didn’t make it any easier to dismiss.
They resumed walking toward the stalls, and Trainer Verlas ordered the black lion into his. Jalimo and Silar were on either side of her, with Algana beyond Silar. There was room for up to twenty in the starting stalls, but only the four of them were racing today. Other students were drifting toward the stands, attracted by the prospect of a practice race.
“Riders up,” Trainer Verlas ordered.
It was different mounting a kehok in the stall than out on the sands. She mimicked the others, climbing a ladder and then lowering herself into the saddle. She strapped herself in. Beneath her, the black lion’s mane bristled, clinking together like glass.
“We’re just going to run,” Raia told him. “No different than out on the sands.” Louder, to Trainer Verlas, she asked, “You’ll be there, won’t you? To keep this from being a catastrophe?” It will be fine, she thought, trying to will herself to believe it. Still, she wanted the reassurance that this wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed. Surely, she’d have a safety net for this first time in the track.
“Race conditions, remember?” Trainer Verlas pointed to the air above the racetrack, where the psychic shield shimmered like heat over the sand. “No trainer can interfere.” She smiled in what was probably meant to be a comforting way. “We’ll be near, though, in case of emergency. Of course, if the worst happens, it most likely will occur too fast for us to make it through the shield.”
That . . . was not comforting.
“You can do this,” Trainer Verlas said with finality, and then she stomped back toward the stands, where the other trainers and about a dozen paying students were all waiting and watching.
Race the Sands Page 12