As we wait for the enemy team to vacate the island, I turn my attention to the splashing water.
Because yes, it’s already very turbulent, unlike the other water rings we’ve approached—probably because we weren’t the first ones here to trigger the hazard sensors.
“What’s going on in there?” Brie says, standing next to me.
Kokayi stares into the distance. “They are probably drinking water from the Green Grail.”
“No, I mean, what is with the water?” Brie repeats, pointing at the disturbed splashing near our feet.
As far as I can tell, this water is clear, normal ocean water. There’s nothing in it, no sharks, no little red leeches. It’s neither too hot nor too cold. And there’s no great obstacle barrier of any kind at the halfway point.
And yet it’s strangely agitated. . . . Little wavelets break the surface, sloshing this way and that, but it’s hard to see why. We move closer to the edge, trying to understand it.
“Washing machine action?” Brie mutters. “What do you think, Lark? Freaky invisible washing machine stuck in rinse cycle?”
I raise my brows and shake my head.
“I see something,” Lolu says. “There are walls in there, just underneath the water—look, right there, see?”
“Walls?” I stare where Lolu’s pointing.
And then I see it. Wall “dividers” of glass or plastic, or some other transparent material similar to the other walls we’ve seen in the Game Zone, form a cubical grid of cells right underneath the surface. Each cell is square, about two meters wide on each side. Water sloshes inside it because the entire grid is moving up and down, but not all at once—cells move individually, rising and falling at different levels than their neighbors.
It occurs to me, it’s like a giant ice cube tray filled with water, except every cell is in constant, separate vertical motion.
This is absolutely insane!
My teammates stare, trying to comprehend what’s before us.
Then Kateb says, “How far does each square compartment sink under water?”
Brie shakes her head. “A better question is, why? Why this ridiculous thing? It doesn’t even look all that dangerous!”
“It’s the Games,” Tuar says. “Never assume anything is not dangerous.”
“He’s right. We watch what they do.” Lolu points into the distance near the island where we see three Contenders step away from the edge of the circle and jump into the restless water.
“Assume they know what they’re doing,” Brie says. “They had to cross it once already to get to the island.”
The Contenders land in the water at different places. We see the spots of color that are their uniforms underneath the waves, and their heads bobbing at different height levels as their compartments rise and fall, seeming to speed up their motion slightly now that they’re occupied.
We watch as at first the Contenders flounder in place, rising up and down in their individual cells. And then a Red grabs one transparent wall with both hands and scales it, landing in the adjacent compartment also full of sloshing water. The moment he leaves the original compartment, its up-and-down motion slows down considerably and it sinks beneath the surface—while the new cell he occupies speeds up. The Red repeats the leap with practiced ease, jumping over each divider wall and landing in the next cell as he advances outward in the water ring toward our land ring ten.
The others in the water, a Green and a Yellow, move in as similar manner, scaling wall sides into the neighboring cells.
“So that’s how you get across,” Brie remarks.
“Good to know,” Tuar says, coming up on the other side of her.
“As long as none of them decide to come in our direction,” Lolu says.
And so we continue to watch and wait.
About ten minutes later the rest of the team occupying the island decides to head back. Contenders plunge into the water confidently and start moving from one sloshing cell to another—fortunately, along a radius vector that’s pointing in the opposite direction from us (if you reference the island as the midpoint of the great circular arena). They must’ve seen us and didn’t want to get into a deadly confrontation just yet. Whoever they are, it’s definitely not one of the high-profile celebrity teams.
“All right, the coast is clear, let’s go for it!” Brie says. And she jumps into the water.
A cell breaches the water surface and rises immediately, carrying Brie upward, then down again, like an amusement park ride gone wrong. But for once, I think Walton is enjoying it.
“Woohoo!” Brie exclaims, leaping over the transparent side wall and into the next cell.
Kateb’s expression shows composed amusement as he enters the water.
I follow.
Immediately, what feels like an under-surge swells below me, and I am being lifted easily by a rising wave, in a rush of cool water contained within four square sides.
And then the bottom falls out from under me and I fall. . . .
But before I can catch my breath, I’m swept upward again.
The sensation is remarkable and—I have to admit—this is fun!
I hold back an exclamation and focus on what I need to do—grab the glass divider wall and go over it into the next cell.
But it’s not as easy as it seems. The substance of the wall is slippery and the edge is hard and narrow, plus it’s bobbing up and down. So I try to get a grip . . . all the while the up-and-down motion of my cell accelerates with every second.
Somehow I manage to flop over the divider—on my third try.
And the new cell into which I drop now rises up toward me.
I flounder in the water, catch my breath, and then go for the next divider wall. . . .
Up-down . . . up-down . . . grab the side . . . oops, slipping, missed it . . . grab it again . . . Deep breath . . . heave-ho! Big splash!
The process takes on a rhythm of its own, and I get better at it as I move from compartment to compartment.
After about ten cells it stops being fun and becomes a tedious, annoying chore—especially once I realize I have forty more of these damn things to go.
I glance around and see my teammates at various stages of progress, scattered in different moving cells around me. As usual, agile and acrobatic Kokayi is far ahead of the rest of us, more than halfway across. I watch with envy as he leaps effortlessly from cell to cell.
The others find their own rhythm and move steadily forward.
Lolu and Zaap are light and quick, having no problem scaling the divider walls, so they’re close to the halfway mark also. Brie, Kateb, and Tuar follow closely, strength compensating for agility. Once again, Chihar and I are lagging behind. Chihar has a focused look on his face as he pulls himself up and over each divider wall, methodical and steady in his effort.
I take a deep breath and heave, getting over another wall, landing with a dull splash. . . .
And that’s when the thought strikes me. . . . Why exactly are we swimming?
I pause. “Hey! Stop!” I call out loudly.
“What?” Brie’s voice sounds from up ahead.
“We’re idiots! Why are we swimming?”
“Huh?”
“I said, why are we swimming? We already did the five mandatory swims, so now we don’t have to swim this one. We can just semi-hover over it as long as we touch the water!”
A few cells away Chihar pauses, sloshing in his compartment.
As I look ahead, I see the others stopping also, and turning around to glare at me.
“Well, crap!” Brie says loudly. “Yeah! All this time . . . could’ve been flying the Luggage Airlines and dragging our toes instead!”
Tuar cusses.
Far up ahead, Lolu makes a very annoyed snort as she too looks at me, stopping to tread the agitated water. “You’re right. My mind is more tired than I thought. I didn’t even—I forgot—”
In that moment the cell she’s in rides up in such a way that Lolu gets tossed
against one side and bangs her head on the transparent wall. “Argh! Shibet!” Lolu cries out in irritation and holds on to her head with one hand while awkwardly grasping a wall with the other.
In that same moment we hear a loud cussing exclamation coming from Zaap as apparently he too gets tossed in his sloshing cell and bumps his side painfully against one corner. He flounders, looking embarrassed.
I turn my head to glance at both of them. Just as I’m about to make a comment, I lose my own hold of the slippery wall and go down hard into the water, sinking underneath the surface and getting a stupid mouthful of ocean. Before I can react, I pop back up again and cough and sputter like an idiot.
That’s when Brie snorts with a rude honk and then she bursts out in laughter.
As soon as I manage to spit out the water, I start laughing too.
Then I hear a deep laugh from Tuar and a chuckle from Kateb.
Yes, we’ve come to this. . . .
Chihar just shakes his head tiredly, holding on to his compartment wall to catch his breath. And then he sings the voice command to make his equipment bag hover.
Moments later, holding on to our levitating bags—and to the last shreds of our dignity—we arrive at Green Grail Island.
The island is paved with the same mauve brick-colored surface material as all the land rings. The Green Grail stands on a waist-high column pedestal in the exact center. Its bowl is vibrant and metallic forest-green that gleams in the sunlight with pearl rainbow highlights. Fresh water rises from inside the bowl and pours over the brim of the Grail on all sides in a softly cascading fountain. This is our designated drinking water for the Game Zone.
“Gwen Lark! Gwen Lark!”
Obviously the Games audience has seen us reach the Green Grail and is acknowledging my team.
We reach out individually and touch the Grail surface with our hands to fulfill the daily task obligation—it likely triggers a contact sensor that registers our Contender tokens.
Next we eagerly drink as much as possible and fill all our flasks. As we drink, the fountain waterfall continues falling down at our feet and the runoff goes into the water ring—fresh water mingling with the salty ocean.
“Such a waste of drinking water.” Kateb watches the cascading fountain flow. “Too bad I don’t have another bottle.”
“Just keep drinking,” Brie says. “Good thing this place is not one of Lark’s precious ancient ruins. You can empty your bladder in the water anywhere.”
I purse my lips and give her a stern look, but I’m too tired to say anything.
The bright afternoon glare reflects off all the water rings, creating a blinding onslaught of whiteness in every direction, despite my protective contact lenses. The day is hot because of Hel’s radiation, but the ocean wind makes the air deceptively cold, creating a strange dissonance. At this point—now that I’ve stopped to quench a thirst I didn’t even realize was there—I feel a strange fever rising inside me. It’s the chronic exhaustion taking its toll, combined with dehydration and mild sunburn.
And then I remind myself—this is the Ordeals stage.
Feeling like crap is the new normal.
I sigh, spacing out for a moment. . . . then I refill my flask again and drink as much as I can, letting the cooling moisture soothe my insides.
That’s when Kokayi points into the distance. “Another team, heading this way. They’re not waiting for us to leave, which means they’re willing to fight.”
“Time to go,” I say, putting my flask away in a hurry.
The Contenders, a full ten-Category lineup, have entered the water ring surrounding this island, and are approaching swiftly, semi-hovering over the water.
At the same time the Games audience begins to roar in anticipation of our exciting confrontation and, very likely, blood. . . .
“Oh, no,” Lolu mutters, hastily closing up her bag.
Chihar glances around us, appearing dazed.
“This way!” Tuar points at a specific point across the water ring. “We move in the opposite direction from them.”
“Can you see who it is?” Brie asks.
As if to answer her question, the audience chants, “Tha-las-sa!”
“Go! Just go!”
We leap into the water.
Since we now have to cross the same ten rings on our return trip, with the same rule restrictions, we decide to swim this one, as it’s one of the relatively harmless ones.
The choice to swim is a mini risk—Thalassa’s team may or may not be in pursuit and, if they are, we would be better served to hover quickly.
However, we’re in luck. We check behind and no one is chasing us as we swim-jump from cell to cell in the agitated waters of ring ten.
We make it across, then turn to look as Team Irtiu now occupies the Green Grail Island, completely ignoring us.
“Smart,” Kateb says. “She made it seem like they were coming to attack us, just to get us to vacate.”
“Well, she succeeded,” I say tiredly. “Now let’s put some distance behind her and her power team.”
“Agreed,” Chihar says. “The sooner we return to the outside ring, the sooner we can rest for the day.”
“We can try,” Zaap says sullenly. “Who thinks there will be any rest?”
“Ah, don’t ruin my fantasy, Monkey Boy,” Brie mumbles.
And we continue onward over the next water ring.
At this point, I must admit, things get somewhat hazy. The afternoon grows late and we methodically cross each water ring the best we can, testing for the now familiar obstacles and hazards in each and moving accordingly.
We constantly look out for other teams’ presence and get as far away from them as we can—either running along the perimeter of the closest land ring or plunging into the water if it poses a lesser danger. The land rings get wider as we move outward, which gives us the option to run and put some distance between us and the hostiles. So far we’ve been lucky.
By now I’m so damn tired that I stumble out of the water and collapse each time, lying down for a few seconds on the land rings in dull stupor. At once the cool wind sweeps over my soggy clothing and the light of Hel bakes me, starting with the top of my head. . . . My muscles tremble with exertion, making me feel overwhelmingly drained and stupid-limp.
Most of my teammates are in a similar condition. It’s remarkable how much energy is drained by hours of swimming or floundering in the water, rendering the body much less capable than if we were merely exerting ourselves on land.
By the time evening twilight comes and the artificial lights go on, we approach land ring one. I remember how it sank underneath our feet when this day started—which seems like ages ago. That first land ring is now back above the surface, perfectly dry and ready to receive us. Beyond it looms the exterior wall separating the Game Zone from the rest of the ocean and the audience platforms.
I have to say, the night illumination in the Game Zone of Stage Three is amazing. The land rings light up with tiny orb lights running along both the inner and outer perimeter edges, so that the outlines of each land ring are clearly visible in the darkness, weirdly reminding me of airport runway lights. . . . In addition, large basketball-sized orbs hover and float randomly all around, lending a beautiful golden glow to the reflections in the water. If Vincent van Gogh could see this, he’d be inspired to paint an entirely new version of “The Starry Night.”
I haul myself out of the water onto the surface of land ring one—the largest, outermost ring that encircles the Game Zone—and immediately look up past the bright artificial lights toward the tiers of hovering spectator platforms.
My eager gaze searches for a glimpse of Aeson. . . .
But he is not there.
Chapter 78
I stand dumbfounded, looking through the clear wall at the nearest rows of audience.
Until I feel Brie tapping me on the shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”
“I—I can’t seem to find—” I start to speak but then
fall silent.
“What?” Brie stares closely at me. “You mean your Prince Charming? Remember, we’ve come back in the opposite direction from the center of this Dante’s infernal circle-o-matic. So your loverboy’s fancy Imperial Box is all the way on the other side of the Game Zone.”
“Oh . . .” I say, raising my brows and blinking. “You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” she says, posturing, with a smug glance in the direction of the audience.
Really, we’re so close to them that we can see individual faces of the privileged wealthy people in the front rows as they make noise, laugh and clap, and even consume their snacks, all the while watching us as though we’re zoo specimens. Soon, the ones closest to our location pick up the chant “Gwen Lark!” as they point and wave and call out to me and my teammates.
I look away from the enclosing transparent wall, suddenly feeling stupidly self-conscious. Funny how that is—knowing that nano-cameras record our every move is somehow different from actually seeing all these strangers looking at us from a few feet way.
“We should choose a place to rest,” Chihar says in his usual quiet voice, coming up to us.
“Here is as good as any. . . . Now we need lookouts for all directions.” Tuar sets down his equipment bag and sits down with his back to the audience. He then calmly takes out a calorie meal bar that he brought with him, and starts to eat.
I sigh and settle down in a similar way, with my back to the audience wall. The cold wind blows harshly, chilling my wet clothing. I shiver as I look through my bag for useful items, including my own food. After all those sharks and choonu and boiling water and ice and whirlpools, and lord knows what else, I am ready to keel over. . . . My head is spinning and I can’t keep my thoughts straight.
Soon we’re all on the floor, our eyes closed in exhaustion. We take turns watching for any approaching enemy Contenders. Two of us at a time remain alert, doing guard duty.
“What time is it?” Zaap mumbles, as he takes his turn being a lookout.
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