Even if she was intimidating as all get out.
She shot a sardonic look over her shoulder at me, and then turned back to my friends. From this angle, I could see the lopsided grin she gave them—one that drew a deep dimple out in her cheek. “I take it from Liana’s reaction that the answer is a no. That’s too bad, although I do appreciate loyalty. You can’t blame a girl for trying, am I right?”
She laughed, the sound genuine and earthy, and then slapped both Maddox and Leo on the shoulders. “It’s really nice to meet you both,” she said, holding out a hand and grabbing Leo’s, giving it a shake. “I’m Dylan Chase.”
She turned to Maddox, her hand extended, but Maddox neatly deflected it and took a step directly into her personal space. Both girls were about the same height, and Maddox was glaring at her, disdain stamped on her features. “You don’t impress me, scare me, or charm me, lady. I know you want to be Champion, which means that you could try to sabotage Liana’s chances in the Tourney, and I’m here to tell you that if you lay one finger on her I will snap them all off and feed them to the pigs in the Menagerie. Do you get me?”
Dylan blinked, but her smile deepened as she gave Maddox a wry look. “Does that usually work, or are you just having an off day?”
Maddox growled, and I felt a sudden urge to intervene. “Maddox, back off,” I told her. “Dylan, show a little respect. Maddox was there when…” I trailed off and gave Maddox an apologetic look, and realized her face had gone stark white. I licked my lips and quickly changed tactics. “We lost a teammate, and found out that people have infiltrated the Tourney, on the same day. You’ll have to forgive us if we’re a bit paranoid.”
Dylan considered me, and then exhaled. “That is a fair point,” she said. “And I’m sorry if I came on a little strong earlier, but my aunt says that if you don’t ask for what you want, you’ll never get it, and I live by that. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take no for an answer, either. And look… Maddox, is it?” Maddox had managed to work some blood back into her cheeks, but still looked haunted, even as she met Dylan’s gaze with an automatic nod. “I can and will be a team player, but you do realize that, due to the lottery, there are going to be some changes to how the Tourney is judged, right?”
“They are changing some of the rules?” Leo asked, his words faster than my own thoughts could formulate. Still, I had the same question myself.
Dylan gave us both confused looks, blinking at us. “Didn’t you get the announcement? It was sent out yesterday, after the memorial.”
I looked at Maddox and Leo, and frowned. None of us had noticed, but then again, we’d had a pretty full day yesterday. “We were all pretty torn up after the funeral,” I said, improvising a feasible lie. “I don’t think any of us even looked at a pad yesterday.”
“Ah, well, none of the rule changes were included in the announcement,” Dylan announced dismissively, folding her arms over her chest. “But all I ask is that when they are, you give me a chance to at least be on even footing by the end.”
I was in the process of considering her request—and wondering why she spoke as if she knew what the changes were, even though she insisted she didn’t—when the lights went out. Moments later, Scipio appeared, replacing the images of Ambrose and the videos from the Tourney.
“Welcome, candidates,” he said, his holographic image filling the screens with bright blue eyes and inky black hair that was tied back behind his neck. “Under normal circumstances, I would congratulate you all for making it to the next challenge in the Tourney, but I know what a bitter pill that would be to swallow, given the insidious betrayal and tragic loss we have suffered. Instead, today, you are faced with chaos and confusion, as a much beloved tradition of the Knights is tossed upside down and thrown into chaos.
“I wish to assure you that the officials put a great deal of thought into making the following changes. After reviewing them, I find that they will make the alterations in teams and leadership more equitable for all parties. As such, the following modifications are to be made. Number one: due to the loss of candidates, we will be expediting the Tourney. As such, there will only be three more challenges to decide which candidate will become the next Champion.”
There were a few gasps at this announcement, but everyone in the crowd accepted it. It took me a moment, but after a while, I did as well; it only reduced the number of challenges by one, which made sense due to the fact that we had lost three teams. There was no need for a fourth challenge.
“Next,” Scipio continued, his voice rolling through the room. “Rank will no longer matter when it comes to selecting the team leaders. If the majority of a team selects someone with the rank of Elite over that of Commander, then that person will be acknowledged as the team’s leader until the end of the Tourney.”
Another fair ruling. With teams being assigned through lottery, it made sense to compensate for the randomization process. Now that rank was no longer an issue, the candidates would be free to support whomever they wanted.
“Now, because we know there could be multiple candidates on the same team vying for the position of Champion, we will be allowing leadership to change from challenge to challenge. All those who were nominated as leaders of their teams before the lottery took place will have a chance to command their teams, and will be judged not only on their ability to lead, but their ability to follow as well. Therefore, it is crucial for those who are serious about becoming Champion to also allow themselves to be led during any one of the next two challenges. That being said, you can steal command should you feel that the current leader’s actions will only lead your team to defeat. I urge you to be careful doing this, because a failed play for the leadership role will only hurt your chances of becoming Champion.”
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around what I was hearing. Basically, if I wanted to be Champion, I would need to let Dylan take control of the team for a challenge. I could try and take it back during the challenge, but so could she. A quick glance at Dylan and the crooked smirk she was wearing told me that she was both pleased and unsurprised by the ruling, and I suddenly found myself wondering if she somehow had advance knowledge of what the rules were going to be.
And then I wondered what it mattered if she had. It certainly wasn’t proof of anything other than that she was friends with some of the officials. That wasn’t a crime. Besides, if she had known that she would have the chance to lead, she wouldn’t have come on so hard with Leo and Maddox earlier.
On second thought, I realized that she might have approached them like that anyway, if only to test their loyalty, and to see if she could turn them against me.
“In light of these changes, the final challenge will be a free-for-all. Teams can still work together, if they like, but the winner of the final challenge will have the best chance of being named the next Champion.”
This put Dylan and me on an even playing field. Or, it would, if my teammates and I supported her for leadership. I was well aware that Maddox, Leo, and I could just as easily nominate each other as leader, but I realized that doing so could hurt my chances with the Knights themselves. Dylan was a crowd favorite, and if our team purposefully kept her from getting a chance to lead, it could damage my chances irreparably.
I needed to make sure that the others understood that. It sucked, but there was nothing else I could do except focus on the challenges, and worry about Dylan and the new rules later.
“Today’s challenge is called Wayfinder. In keeping with the tradition of the Tourney, Wayfinder replicates the conditions of one of the Tower’s greatest tragedies—Requiem Day, when the machines went down and the Tower was cast into darkness. The challenge is designed to test a candidate’s virtue, patience, and sense of honor in the face of humanity’s darkest moments. Due to heightened security, however, further details will be withheld until you get to the entry point. I wish you good luck and fortune in the challenge ahead.”
Scipio held our gazes for a second or two longer
, and then faded from the screen, to be replaced by a simple line of text reading, Please wait for an official to escort you to your starting location, in authoritative block print.
Seconds later, a Squire with bright yellow hair and sky-blue eyes approached us. “Please follow me,” she said, her voice soft yet formal.
I waited while Maddox double checked the girl’s credentials against the message we’d received from Tourney officials with the name and picture of our escort (another security feature), and after some pretty heavy scrutiny, Maddox begrudgingly waved for the Squire to proceed.
I turned to scan the crowd, looking for my mother again, but couldn’t find her in the press of people moving to get out. Disappointed that I hadn’t gotten to say anything to her, I tucked my hands in my pockets and followed my team out, thinking that perhaps it was for the best if I didn’t worry about her right now. I already had my hands full with facing the next challenge. Not only with winning, but also with making sure that Dylan didn’t upstage me.
Fun.
23
To my surprise, the official led us out of the Citadel, using an elevator and a bridge that led from the Citadel to the shell. Another elevator took us down, and eventually we were deposited on the fifth floor—the floor that also held Greenery 1, otherwise known as the Menagerie.
We were within spitting distance of our second Sanctum, and our first, and for a second, I felt a moment of confusion and fear, wondering if the officials had somehow found out about our old home and were going to use it to eliminate me from the Tourney.
But our official led us away from it, heading instead for Greenery 2, formally called Terraces. A mural was painted on the face of the greenery, depicting blue waterfalls and lakes rich with fish and other life, surrounded by deep, rectangular ponds with the green tufts of rice plants sticking out from the top. The entire area stank slightly, thanks to the marketplace where citizens could purchase fresh water-borne produce.
But as the marketplace came into view, I realized that the food vendors who were normally planted on the concourse in front of the opening to Greenery 2 had been cleared out. The stalls remained, along with the produce, but the people were all gone.
I barely paid any attention to it as we walked—my mind was still grappling with what the changes of the Tourney implied, and what it meant for my chances. We had to give Dylan her chance to lead, and I found myself wondering if I should hand it off to her now, or if I should wait until the challenge tomorrow.
To be honest, there was no way to gauge whether Dylan should lead now or later, but I still wrestled with the decision for a long time, eventually coming to the conclusion that I would have to wait to make the decision until after I knew what the challenge actually was.
That was, until I noticed how quiet it was and realized that there wasn’t a single person trying to push past us in the frantic traffic that always seemed to surround the farming floor.
As I thought about the strange absence, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t seen a single soul on our way down here, either. Scipio was probably clearing citizens out of our way in order to keep us from being attacked while we were on the move. It was impressive that he was able to clear out that many people at the same time, and that such steps were being taken to ensure the safety of the candidates, but I also recognized that whoever was controlling Scipio could create holes in the security just as easily as they could move citizens.
And the emptiness of the place left me filled with dread and apprehension. It was like seeing a glimpse of the possible future of the Tower, in a world where Scipio had shut down, taking with him the forty thousand souls that relied on him and leaving nothing but an empty edifice, left to succumb to the elements outside.
I wouldn’t let that future happen, no matter what it took. But it was a chilling reminder of what I was fighting to prevent, so I quickened my pace, eager to get started with the challenge.
We threaded our way through the winding path that wound around the stalls, sticking to the main thruway. The stalls ended almost as suddenly as they began, a good fifteen feet before the massive, twenty-five-foot-tall loading doors that shipments of produce were hauled through on a daily basis. The doors were sealed shut, but a crimson-clad official was waiting by one of the smaller doors, which the members of the farming department, called Hands, used to move in and out of the greenery.
As we approached, I noticed several more Knights standing in front of the closed doors, and one lone individual clad in the orange of the Mechanics Department. Then the figure turned toward us, and I immediately recognized the profile and stance. It was Eric!
His presence here startled me—not only due to its unexpectedness, but because I hadn’t heard anything from them since last night. Zoe and Eric had wanted to return to their apartment before the Tourney began, since they knew we would be in and out more frequently, making the apartment less secure than before. Neither of them had netted me to tell me that they had received unusual orders, so what was he doing here?
I hurried past our escort toward him, and he broke away from the door, making a beeline straight for me. We met in the middle, coming to a sharp stop in front of each other.
“Eric? Why are you here?”
“I was selected this morning to play a part in the Tourney,” he replied, shifting his weight slightly. I realized he had a large black duffle bag slung over one shoulder, looking exceptionally heavy, and then looked back up to him, more confused than ever.
“What’s going on?”
He opened his mouth, but then hesitated. “I think it’s better if I let the official explain that. Just check in, and he’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
I frowned, but followed his gaze toward a wizened Knight with bushy white hair and eyebrows, sitting in a wheelchair. His baton was draped over his lap, and from the look in his eyes, he meant to do some business if trouble came calling. I shot Eric another look, still confused as to his presence here, and why he would have a role in the Tourney. Then I turned back to the official, moving to catch up to where my team had stopped, off to one side of the Knight blocking the entrance of the greenery.
I got there just as the Squire guiding us was greeting the Knight in the wheelchair as Knight Commander Zarial Wenn. Zarial smiled up at us, revealing a perfect line of white teeth.
“Greetings, candidates,” he said, his voice sounding like it was being dragged across the corrugated flooring in the Tower. “Today, all challenges will be happening simultaneously, but on different farming floors. As Lord Scipio said, this challenge is meant to replicate the conditions of Requiem Day. What he did not tell you is that your mission is to escort your Cog repairman to a damaged power relay, so he can repair it. Your Cog is a non-combatant; however, there will be actors inside who are not. If your Cog is hit a set number of times, he will be deemed ‘deceased,’ and you will fail your mission. You will also fail your mission should you take longer than thirty minutes to repair the damage. Be smart, wise, and above all, remember your duties as Knights, and you will succeed. Now, step forward to get your equipment.”
I absorbed the information, managing not to roll my eyes in frustration. Much like Protect the Specialist—one of the challenges used in the baton qualifier—we would have two objectives: defeat the challenges placed in front of us, and make sure no one took our Cog worker out. Which was Eric, in this case—something that filled me with a nervous feeling. Had he been assigned to us due to a random freak accident, or did someone purposely have him assigned to our team? Eric wasn’t a good fighter, and had only just started in the Cog Department, so it could be that whoever was after us had just put him with us as a weak point.
It was a subtle manipulation, but perhaps that was all they could pull off right now, what with all the enhanced security measures that the designers were taking with the Tourney. I doubted they would be trying to get concealed weapons or strengthened batons past officials, but anything that involved computers would be fair game, i
f they could get around the firewall, which I was certain they could. They had before.
Either way, I needed to keep an extra careful eye on him. Eric was a Hand at heart, so his lack of experience as a Cog could slow us down. His lack of fighting expertise would also prove to be a weakness for us, and I needed to make sure we covered both liabilities, which involved the same tactic: getting through the challenges inside as fast as possible, so he’d hopefully have more time than he needed to make the repairs.
Which meant that I couldn’t let Dylan lead this time. She didn’t know enough about his capabilities and limitations to effectively lead him. I entertained the possibility of telling her about them, but I worried she would find that more daunting than helpful. I knew Eric inside out—he had been my best friend for most of my life—and I could compensate for his shortcomings while enhancing his strengths, without wasting precious time. It was only natural that I took charge.
Zarial waved, and several Knights came forward to meet us, carrying gear provided by the Tourney. Everything was pretty much standard—lashes and batons—but they had also added a small, portable hand-light with an adjustable strap to each parcel. It was clear that security was being taken quite seriously, because different officials proceeded to test each piece of equipment multiple times, each of them using their own testing devices and noting their findings. They also scanned and searched our uniforms and bodies thoroughly, but the bracelet with Quess’s modified shockers was left alone. He had returned them last night, assuring me they were undetectable, and had thankfully been right.
I endured it all with my team, trying not to think about all of the hands on me as they helped me put on my lash harness. Dylan, standing across from me, endured it with a bored expression on her face, her eyes focused just over my shoulder. I turned to see what she was looking at, and then turned back to see that her eyes had shifted over to me, and her expression was now quizzical.
The Girl Who Dared to Rise Page 21