by Emery Skye
“No one is going to stay with the Tricksters, because we aren’t going to lose,” I insisted.
“The Tricksters never lose, Anna,” Nathan said sympathetically.
I don't know why he felt sorry for me. We were here for his brother.
“Fine, if they never lose, then they won’t care what game we play. We decide the game and our player," I sounded more confident than I felt.
“That might work,” mused Nathan, frowning.
“Waiting!” shouted the Master Trickster.
Nathan faced the Master Trickster.
“Deal."
I was nauseated, hearing those words.
“What’ll we play? Kitsune-Ken?”
Kitsune-Ken was similar to rock, paper, scissors. Loosely translated, it was Trickster, The Powers, and Warrior. The Powers beats Warrior, Warrior beats Trickster, and Trickster beats Powers. There was no way to beat the Trickster at his own game.
“No. We're playing for horses…” Nathan baited.
“Well," the Master Trickster said, "... equestrian aptitude?”
“That sounds good.”
“Who is your competitor?”
We huddled again. Everyone looked at me.
Oh no.
I'm the equestrian!
“It has to be me.”
Amalie stared at the ground. Taylor teared up. Lucas grinned in a way I didn't like, but I chose to ignore it.
I swallowed hard and faced the Master Trickster.
“I will compete.”
His clapped his hands mischievously.
“If you lose, you mine.”
Chapter 21
“Are you ready, Anna?”
Nathan had been pacing back and forth for a long time. His face was etched with worry. It was times like this that I appreciated Nathan most.
“I’m confused,” I said. I glanced down at my jeans, half chaps, and t-shirt.
“I know what you're thinking. There's a horse outside.”
We stood in a tent, much to the Tricksters' consternation. They'd tried to demand I let them watch me change. Taylor and Amalie killed eight of them before they backed down. Fawn led us to the tent blindfolded. The small structure was like something out of a Native American archive.
“There are some things you need to know about their style of competition.”
“Okay,” I answered tentatively, preparing myself for what he would tell me. I kept my eyes fixed on the dirt below my feet. The rough ground was my foundation. It was the only thing here that reminded me of my home back in Hope.
“The Tricksters are notorious for kitsune-bi. It's a confusion delusion. It can make you take the wrong path.” He paused, and seeing the look on my face, tried again. “... just avoid the lights.”
“I'm not a fly, Nathan,” I felt the twinkle in my eye.
He shook his head.
“That's not what I'm saying, Anna.”
Not the laugh I was hoping for, but at least he smiled.
“They'll create false visions and illusions, like your favorite meal or a fake finish line. They'll change the jumps to make you think twice about going over or around. Always jump. If you don't jump, you lose.”
There was more. There were three rounds that became progressively more difficult. His somber, earnest tone made my heart beat faster and harder, I was dizzy. I saw stars. I went down.
Thank goodness for Nathan. He was fast enough to catch me. He carried me to a chair. His beautiful green eyes peered into my soul. His hair was longer. His clothes, his hair, the whiskers—anybody else would look ragged. He looked rugged. He knelt and lifted my chin so we could see eye-to-eye.
“You haven't eaten or slept," He accused.
I shook my head.
“I can’t believe it!” Do you think this is a joke?”
He stared at me.
If looks could kill, I'd be dead. Then they'd be stuck here. Serve him right.
A new wave of dizzying nausea struck. I was forced to relent. Will you please find me something to eat before I faint?”
He stormed out and returned seconds later with a plate of what looked like vomit.
“Eat this.”
Yeah, definitely not.
I took it because I had no choice. He stood there, a tic in his jaw, with his arms crossed and tapping his foot.
“Can I have a second, please?” I glared up at him.
“No.”
“What? Don't you trust me?”
He shook his head.
Jerk. Although, he had a point. I wasn’t going to eat it. I wished there was a dog I could give the food to. I looked at the vomit again. Was I really willing to poison a poor, innocent dog? No. A Spector hound, on the other hand…
Ding! Ding! Ding!
I jumped. A loud bell rang outside. Nathan looked me up and down.
“It’s time,” He dropped the plate. “Trust your horse.” His statement rubbed me the wrong way. There was something more to it than just his words. He grabbed my arm and pulled me after him.
“Wait!” I said.
He looked at me.
I choked. I didn’t know how to say it, but it needed said. I had real, serious feelings for him. I thought I was falling in love with him. He was the strongest person or Warrior I had ever met. Nathan was smart, fast, and brilliant. I admired him. Most importantly, I trusted him.
“No time,” He started forward.
“This can’t wait.”
He turned and grasped my shoulders.
“You’ll be ok, Anna. I’ll get you out of this, no matter what." His passion was fierce.
I wanted to believe him, but I knew better. This could be my last chance, my last words. I wanted to make them count.
“Nathan, please,” I choked again. “Take care of Amalie. No matter what. For me.” He nodded curtly. We left the tent. Each of us held our chins high. Those were my last words?
A commotion came from the stands that encircled us. It was still dark. I didn’t know if the arena was underground or not. The sky was dismally black. Torches lighted the arena like streetlights. It reeked of sulfur and lime. There was a myriad of jumps—drably colored, but creatively designed. The tips of my fingers tingled in anticipation. I wasn’t afraid. I was in my element.
I didn't notice the horse until I saw Amalie leading it. That was reassuring. She’d watched all my competitions. It was corny, but I was glad she would see this one, too.
She handed me the reins of an elegant, grey thoroughbred. She had massive shoulders, good feet, and calmer than Sox. Nathan put his hand on my shoulder.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“It’s not important,” he said, a little sadly.
I shook that off; if the horse and me were a team, she needed a name.
“Diamond,” I rubbed the mare on the soft spot between her ears down to her eyes. Her ears perked up in response.
Amalie and Diamond both nodded. Good enough. Nathan retreated, sitting next to Lucas and Taylor. Amalie and I had a second to talk.
“Diamond's a perfect name,” she said, eyes glistening with tears and sagging features.
“We'll be okay, Amalie. I promise,” I hugged her tight.
She sobbed—snotty, unattractive ones—and gasped for air, probably inhaling some of my hair.
“It’s my fault you're here. I'm so sorry,” We let go of each other. “I wish you didn’t have to do this.” I wiped her cheek.
“Am, I want to do this. For us. You've always been so sure of yourself. I've always been proud of you for that. I've even envied it. Now it’s my turn. I can do this. We'll be okay,” I paused. “Remember when we were kids? We went to the park, and those boys teased you?”
She nodded. She smiled a little and cried a little less.
“Remember how mad you were when I wouldn't help you?”
“You could've kicked their butts in about ten seconds. You wouldn’t. You said it wasn’t your duty,” She inhaled and swallowed some sobs.
“Yeah, well, remember when they stopped?"”
I stared at a stray, lingering teardrop on her face. It took me back to the day I made the biggest decision of my life. The day I decided Amalie would always take precedence over everything else in my life.
I remembered it like it was yesterday. Amalie hit me so hard with her little fists and threw a grade-A tantrum. She told me I was the “most terrible sister ever,” because I wouldn’t teach those boys a lesson.
“Yeah. I remember.”
“What happened,” I asked her.
A smile lit up her features.
“I ran up to him and told him off,” she choked out. “When I was done, he backed up so fast I thought he was going to fall over his own feet,” she gave a little smile at the memory. “I always wondered why he was suddenly so scared of me.”
I told her why. All those years ago, I was the one who’d threatened those boys. I made them swear they’d never say another mean word to Amalie or I’d be the one they answered to. It took a little convincing, but they listened, and when Amalie decided to stand up for herself, they heeded her word.
The recognition of what I did for her all those years ago finally settled in. I would do more than just throw a few punches; I just didn’t want Amalie to think I was the one coming to her rescue.
I wanted her to feel strong without me ever doing anything. I wanted her to feel confident to use her own voice, but in the end, I was and would always be there to back her up. She smiled wide, and I gave her a kiss on the check.
“I wish you didn’t have to do this for me,” she repeated, and her blue eyes were brightened with sadness. “This isn’t some stupid kid teasing me in the park. This is our lives…your life.”
“I am not just doing this for you,” Duh. I hugged her again.
“But, I’m the reason we’re here,” her lips turned down. This weighed heavily on her conscience. If something bad happened to me, she’d never forgive herself. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Don’t be so selfish, Amalie,” I kidded. Then I straightened up and got serious. “I’m here because I decided to. At any point I could’ve turned back. You are not responsible for the actions of others. Like humans shape their own lives, we shape ours. I chose this. Not you. And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.”
That’s not what we were taught, but for once, I believed I did have a choice.
“It'll be fine.” I said, and I finally meant it.
Chapter 22
The bell sounded, and Nathan motioned for me to mount. Amalie and Taylor screamed their support. Nathan wasn’t smiling. He looked up at me like I was a rock star. He liked me on a horse, and I felt invincible.
I settled onto the saddle. Diamond looked over her shoulder. I knew how to ride. I pressed my heels down, brought my calf back, straightened up, and lifted my chin. I was going to ride like I’d never ridden before.
A loud bell went off. It made me want to pull my ears off. Diamond shook her head irritably. Another horse trotted onto the course. After a couple seconds, I recognized the rider. It was... a noviate!
I recognized him from my Demonology class last year. He'd been missing for three months. He was emaciated. His shoulders protruded so much that they looked too big for his body. His collarbone stuck out at the ends like a hangar. I feared that if he opened his mouth, his cheeks would rip.
He emanated despair and rage like a jet engine. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
It was true! Kidnapped noviates had been brought here. How many were here? Who was behind it? How did they do it? Why?
I looked at Nathan, hoping for assurance. Or something. This was no contest. He could barely stay on the horse now, let alone during the race. Unless...
I was in a fight for life. What was he fighting for? When he was close enough, I saw. His lips were sewn shut. I gagged. I swallowed bile—relieved my stomach was empty, looked away.
The Master Trickster, in his private box, bellowed.
“Our competitor goes first!”
Thank goodness. I didn't know the pattern.
A disgusting Trickster ushered me out of the ring. Nathan came to me.
“Do you have the pattern?” I asked.
“Lucas said he'd give it to you.”
That's when we both realized Lucas wasn't with the girls. Nathan was furious.
“Yeah, well, he lied,” I put a hand on his shoulder. “It doesn't matter. I'll learn by watching the other guy.”
I might lose after all.
There was an awkward, silent moment.
The bell sounded again.
“Aren’t you going to wish me luck?” My resolve was almost gone.
“You don't need luck, Anna!” Nathan shouted.
My opponent could definitely ride. The first fence was a stone wall made extra intimidating by the thick log placed on top. Usually, these walls gave in everyday competition. I assumed this one wouldn’t.
The second jump made the first one look like child’s play. It was five strides from the first. It was a Normandy bank or something like it. This looked like something out of a dominatrix magazine. It was a combination of three obstacles in one. First, the ditch dug deep into the earth. If his foot went in, the horse would snap his leg. Then, onto the bank in one leap. He succeeded.
He under-jumped the next fence. When a horse under jumped it was like watching a kangaroo hop over rather than fly over. With fences this high, hopping meant slower speeds, and that usually translated to eating dirt.
Strides and rhythm were important. He covered the inside corner. He cut it small and bounced inelegantly over the black arrowhead fence. It was shaped like a triangle with the point facing towards the ground. It was narrow, a definite competition ball-buster—1.2.1.2.1.2.1.2—jump. Next, he took the water pool. Well, it was a drop fence into the water that was five feet down. When the horse went down, the rider brought his head all the way back so that his head was practically on the horse’s ass. They made it. He broke into a trot. It seemed simple enough. There were only two lines to clear.
The noviate, or opponent, exited the arena on the far side. I entered, and Diamond started dancing. I rubbed her shoulder and whispered to soothe her. I needed her to trust me. I knew what I was doing. She calmed down as I walked her to the start. The buzzer rang.
I counted while I circled. Diamond was smooth, which I appreciated. She cantered effortlessly; I hoped her jumps would be equally good. As we approached the first jump, the poles moved. The jump got taller. Soon it looked too high to jump. I wanted to back off, but Diamond surged forward. She was telling me to GO.
I backed off more, nearly stopping, but Diamond knew better. She cleared the fence easily, but I shifted a little too far left to prepare for the death fence ahead. That was an illusion. That’s what Nathan meant when he’d told me to trust my horse. Diamond couldn’t see the illusions that the Tricksters made.
I caught my balance, and another fence appeared out of nowhere. I knew that fence was an illusion. Enough was enough. I didn’t back off; I rode confidently to the real next fence. Five strides. The next fence was five strides away. Diamond had taken two strides, so three were left. My adrenaline coursed through my blood. I was hot, but I didn’t let it mess up my count. At five, I nudged Diamond, and she took the combination perfectly.
We rounded the corner with an air of confidence and determination. I took a deep breath. I needed to relax so Diamond would stay calm. The diagonal was next. We soared over it. It was three strides to the water pool. Diamond wanted to take it too fast. I reined her in. She listened, but it was too late. She rushed, and we hit a pole. Once over the fence I looked back. The pole shook but it didn't fall. That was too close, but at least it didn't cost me.
I came to the finish and exited the course. I looked at the bleachers. Taylor was half on her feet. Amalie pulled her down.
I needed space and time to recuperate and think about the course. I'd yelled at Amalie m
ore than once when she'd come to check on me too soon after a run. She learned to steer clear. Even when I won, I was never perfect. I was close enough, occasionally, but that was rare. That was especially true, today.
The second pattern was hard on my opponent. He did well enough, but sweat made his face shiny. He was hunched too far over. Something was wrong. He was good; he needed to win, but so did I. In the end, it wasn’t just about me. My squad depended on me.
I followed the pattern perfectly; ignoring all of the illusions. I found our rhythm.
I watched my opponent move through the third pattern. He finished the first line. I observed closely as he continued to the diagonal line with the water box. It was like watching a prima ballerina fly around the stage—effortless and beautiful. That is until he lost his stirrup. I prayed he wouldn’t fall. I wanted, needed, to win. But, I didn’t want to win at his expense.
Just then, his horse refused the fence. He was thrown into the poles. The Tricksters cheered and gyrated. It was disgusting how ecstatic they were about his misfortune. The novitiate stared at me. His eyes revealed an agony and despair. His chin was dropped low and shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned to face the Master Trickster.
The Master Trickster was so furious that he was painful to look at. I shuddered empathetically, thinking of my fallen opponent. He was about to be devoured while other noviates worried about term papers. What I wouldn't give for that simple life.
The Master Trickster moved his decrepit-looking hand in an absentminded wave. His two Trickster attendants shot to their feet and grabbed the noviate, who remained nameless.
The noviate’s eyes screamed the things his mouth couldn’t. The whites of his eyes stained scarlet. He wept. He lifted his frail arms, trying to defend himself, but the Tricksters were too fast and too strong.
Tears streamed down my own cheeks. My throat burned with the words I wanted to scream but couldn’t. I wanted to help him. Rage and sadness shook my body. I jumped off Diamond, dropping the reins. The Tricksters ripped the noviate’s arms and legs off. His blood pooled in the arena, soaked the sand, and created a carpet of crimson.
The blood of an angel spilled by demons over information we—I—needed in order to find Alyosha. It spilled because of us. Me.