by Blake Vanier
Sosimo puts his hand on Iona’s shoulder. “That’s the most I’ve ever seen her move.”
The Borukins around the cage chat excitedly amongst themselves.
“But it just opened its eyes,” Thea says.
Sosimo nods. “I know. It’s sad, but she’s still got life left in her. Hopefully, they’ll let her go before she gives up completely.”
“Why don’t any of her friends come and rescue her?” Nero asks.
“I don’t think they know she’s alive,” Sosimo says.
*****
After the museum, they take their bikes to the Coliseum, locking them up near the largest of the three connected stadiums. In the boisterous crowd, Sosimo leads them under the high edged stadium to stairs that fan out and rise a third of the way up its height. Their tickets are checked, and they enter a corridor filled by a number of food, drink, and souvenir vendors set up between the entrances to the different sections of seating. Finally, they reach an entrance to their section.
Light envelops them. It takes Iona a moment to adjust, and a moment longer to comprehend the sheer size of the stadium.
The arena is an expanse of polished red granite. Borukins are scattered all around, dressed in immaculate white robes, performing stretching and movement routines. In the center, there is a raised platform of onyx in front of a giant cannon.
At the near end of the arena stands a large rotating apparatus with five long spars sticking out from the center. A Borukin with a shaved head, body covered in white tattoos, pushes each spar to rotate the assembly. On the far side, a giant screen shows the announcer interviewing the various competitors. Their names and notable achievements are listed below.
“Neat.” Iona pauses, absorbing the whole scene.
“Come on, children,” Sosimo says. “The sooner we get to our seats, the better.”
They climb halfway up, and Sosimo directs them to a row with open seats.
“What’s that big thing they’re pushing?” Iona asks once they are all relaxing in the warm morning light.
“It’s an Aether generator, similar to the bike we use for practice. The competitors in these games require an impressive amount of Aether, which is stored under the arena.”
“What’s the cannon thing for?” Iona asks.
“That’s for the Trial of Odosa. It’s just a larger version of the device that shoots out Aether in the training room.”
“Woo! They’re going to try to block Aether from that?”
Sosimo nods. “It’s humbling, isn’t it?”
“How can anyone even do that?” Korbin asks.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
“What else will we get to see?” Thea asks.
“After the Trial of Odosa, there are the finals to Stone’s Lift, and then Aether-weaving,” Sosimo says.
“Aw, but I wanted to see the fighting,” Korbin says.
“The preliminaries for the Trial of Borutaress are in the next stadium,” Sosimo says. “We wouldn’t be able to see both, and trust me, the competitions here are something you don’t want to miss.”
The competitors disperse as the announcer steps up to the little platform.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Games. Please settle in and prepare yourself for some amazing performances today. Our great King and liberator, Layton Stone created the Games as a means to keep our skills sharp and ready at a moment’s notice. As we approach the last days of the Games, we will begin Stone’s Trials: the backbone of what truly defines us as Borukins.” The crowd cheers, and the announcer waits until they settle down. “One of these is the Trial of Odosa. It was chosen by King Stone to demonstrate our abilities to defend against even the most powerful Aether attacks. It also demonstrates that our fortitude never falters!” The crowd cheers again. “Now, it is with immense honor that I introduce the competitors for this great trial.”
The announcer begins to read names. The crowd cheers for each one with varying degrees of enthusiasm as the Borukins in their white robes and styks of assorted shapes approach. They all bow toward the King’s private box then sit in a row of seats. “Prince Kamin Ramas Jr.!” A large, stern Borukin follows the same procedure and sits with his styk across his lap.
“Jesler Coffman!” Another Borukin approaches and sits. “And finally, the truly unbelievable Overseer, Melanie Carason!” When Melanie enters the arena, the crowd erupts in a deafening roar. It lasts up until she bows and takes her seat. “Now, before we begin, please join me in showing our respect to Etta Mayes for the singing of our National Anthem.”
The Borukins in the crowd stand and put their fists over their hearts. Etta takes the platform.
After the anthem, the announcer takes center stage one last time. “Good luck to the competitors today, and may Stone give you strength!”
The head official steps up to the center platform, minor officials on either side. “The Riner Ratio will be set to zero for the preliminaries. We’ll open the competition at one-point-five on the Boltz scale.” One of the minor officials holds up a flat board with a cup on it. The head official picks up the cup, shakes it, then slams it onto the board, upside down. She takes the cup away, looking at a single die left on the board. “We’ll start with Icor. First up is Emery, followed by Kessler, with Latham in the hole.”
The officials step down. A few of the competitors start warming up again while others remain seated. The head official walks over to the cannon and confirms the settings for the machine. A young Borukin settles herself on the center platform, facing the cannon. She signals with her head; the official waves a green flag. A bolt of white energy launches out of the cannon in a flash, crashing into the Borukin’s styk.
“Oh wow!” the children say in harmony.
“It’s only getting started, children.”
Three judges in yellow run up to the competitor and inspect her white robes, the head official approaching. One by one, the yellow judges hold up white flags. The head official does a quick scan, then holds up her white flag. “Pass!”
A light applause rolls through the crowd.
“So, what's going on?” Ryder asks.
“The preliminaries are just used to weed out the contestants,” Sosimo says. “They will continue to up the total energy of the attacks for each level while rotating through Moltrik, Pahzan, and Icor Aether until only four competitors are left.”
“Why not the other casts?” Nero asks.
“They’re not as common and the ones selected are the typical ones you’d have to fight against.”
“How do you get eliminated?” Iona asks.
“In order to pass, the contestant’s robes must be unscorched. They wear white so it’s easier to tell.”
They turn their attention back to the competition. With each new level, the intensity of the cannon dazzles the children. The number of competitors begins to dwindle. With just a handful of competitors left, only Kamin hasn’t entered. He continues to sit in his chair with a rigid back, his styk on his lap, and his hands on his knees. The activities move around him, but he remains perfectly still, only blinking on occasion.
Ryder points at the King’s son. “Why hasn’t he done anything yet?”
“He must be confident enough that he doesn’t feel he needs a warm up. He placed third during the last Games, so it should be interesting to see how his skills have developed.”
“Do you think he’ll win?” Nero asks.
“I doubt it,” Sosimo says. “Jesler beat him pretty significantly last time around… And there isn’t a Borukin alive that can match Madam Carason’s Odo. She’s the Overseer to the Borukin schools of education and martial arts. It puts her in control of one of the only political bodies that carries any weight, compared to the King. She’s an exceptional lady: open minded, thoughtful, and the reason why it was so easy to get you all in school.”
Eventually, there are only five competitors left. One readies himself, and the cannon fires. A bright blast engulfs the competitor. Streams of
fire shoot everywhere; the roar of energy rattles Iona’s teeth. After a moment, silence blankets the arena. The Borukin is left in the center, breathing heavily. The judges run up and start to verify his success when one raises a red flag and points to the competitor’s elbow. The competitor throws up his hands, arguing with the judge. The other judges look at his elbow. After a moment of study, they throw up their red flags as well. The competitor shakes his head and sits off to the side. The prince, for the first time, gets up and talks with the official.
“See that?” Sosimo asks. “Since that competitor just failed, this will be the last level, so the King's son has finally decided to enter. If any of the other competitors fail as well, then their burn marks are compared in a tiebreaker.”
Madam Carason, Jesler, and another competitor pass and take a seat to the side. Finally, Kamin casually walks up and takes a relaxed, ready position. The cannon fires; he blocks. Once the energy clears, the judges run to inspect him. None of them raise their red flag. Kamin walks out of the arena, unconcerned.
“So, is that the end, then?” Ryder asks.
“Yep, those are the four competitors for tomorrow,” Sosimo says.
“I wish we could see it. Does it get a lot more powerful?” Ryder asks.
Sosimo nods. “It’ll be impressive.”
Workers flood the arena, removing the Aether cannon and the onyx platform. Another group of Borukins bring in a tall, framed structure on wheels. They anchor it to the ground. At the base of the tower, others expose a channel in the arena floor. The channel is a little narrower than a Borukin’s shoulders. It has metal bars spanning its width, so it looks like a ladder laying on the ground. The same group of workers enter the arena again, pulling a large chunk of sandstone on rollers. They manage to maneuver the stone to the middle of the tall structure where they attach a thick steel cable to a harness wrapped around it. The cable runs up the center of the structure and back to the ground, ending in a hook. Four large, thick Borukins walk into the arena, followed by their coaches and assistants. They begin to warm up.
“Holy cow. Those guys are huge,” Korbin says. “They must be twice the size of you, Sosimo.”
“And they aren’t all men, Korbin.”
“Oh.”
“How does this one work?” Thea asks.
“These are the finals of Stone’s Lift competition. Each competitor is latched onto the cable connected to the giant stone and to an Aether supply. They use the Aether to modify their strength to pull the stone up the tower while they traverse the ladder. If there is a tie for distance, then the quickest one to get there wins.”
The first competitor walks up to the channel. His helpers secure the metal cable to his harness and another lighter cable to his belt. He positions himself with his hands and feet on the metal rods in the channel and nods to an official. A three-tone starting signal goes off, and the Borukin starts to traverse the ladder with astonishing speed. When he reaches halfway, his pace begins to slow, and he struggles to reach the next rung. He pulls up, but before he can grasp the rung, his other hand slips. He is ripped from the ladder, flying through the air. A loud clang rings throughout the stadium as the stone is caught. The competitor tumbles to a stop. He picks himself up and bows to the audience, which meets him with a roar of approval.
“I don't understand, Sosimo,” Ryder says. “If they’re using Aether, why do they get tired?”
“Well, even though they have all the energy they need, their muscles still fatigue and lose their effectiveness. They still need to train their bodies to handle the load.”
The next competitor starts and falls off at a shorter distance than the first. The third just barely finishes, and the fourth makes it all the way without showing even a hint of exhaustion. The crowd applauds as the competitors bow and leave the arena.
During the following intermission, Sosimo takes them back into the corridor with the concession stands, game stalls, and stores. The walkway is packed with Borukins of all ages trying to buy food and jostling each other. Smaller groups brag about their success at the stalls that test skill in mini-versions of the competitions. The Borukins playfully shove each other as they wait for the results.
Sosimo pulls them over to one of the stands. “Alright, this is a Borukin favorite. It’s great for energy. Who wants to try it?”
“What is it?” Thea asks. The vendor wraps rice, a dark gooey sauce, and white meat in seaweed.
“It’s seaweed, rice, a plum sauce, and crab. Very tasty.”
Thea wrinkles her nose. “Ew. I don’t like crab.”
Nero steps up. “I’ll try it. I’m hungry.”
Iona looks at him and raises her eyebrows. Wow, Nero going first?
Sosimo thumps him on the back. “That’s the spirit.” Sosimo turns to the servers and orders one for Nero.
Nero takes a tentative first bite and then scarfs the rest. He shrugs. “It’s pretty good. Can I please have another?”
Sosimo continues to feed them snacks, daring the children to try new foods. Finally, when they are stuffed, he brings them back to their seats.
Soon, more workers bring a wood platform to the center of the arena. The stadium roof begins to close, blocking Illi’s hot afternoon light.
“What’s going on?” Iona asks.
“They’re making it darker, so you can see the light from the Aether weaving,” Sosimo says. “In all your life, you won’t find a better demonstration of Aether manipulation especially since we have Delue and Ratami in Axiom today. Prepare yourself.”
“How do they win?” Korbin asks.
“Aether weaving is a subjective competition, so whoever gets the best score from the judges wins.”
A Borukin is introduced and enters the arena. He walks toward the platform in slippers and a long baton in each hand.
“The platform is charged with Aether,” Sosimo says. “They don't wear shoes so they can absorb Aether through their feet while keeping both hands free.”
The performer places his slippers to the side, steps on the platform, and bows toward the King's private box. The main lights dim, casting the stadium into darkness. Only a few small lights illuminate the weaver and the arena perimeter. Music starts, and the weaver begins to move his hands. He summons up creatures of Aether that race around the arena.
They cascade together, forming a torrent of changing colors, which morphs into new shapes, seamlessly synchronized with the music. When the music ends, the lights come back on and the spectators cheer. The Borukin bows to the King once more, stepping away. After a few minutes, his scores show up. The crowd cheers again. Another performer follows with a similar performance.
When the next performer takes her place on the platform, Sosimo nudges Thea. “Okay, watch this one. Rae Mezlerra is going to be amazing. Hopefully she doesn’t get herself into too much trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Iona asks.
“She likes to make honest statements. Usually, people with power aren’t pleased with her.”
The woman bows to the King and the lights dim.
Birds above and a forest below take shape from the darkness. People tend to the finely-detailed forest. A newcomer arrives. One by one, the newcomer convinces the people to harvest the forest. The weather grows dark. The ones who are not convinced protest, but are ignored. Large trees fall; their wood carried away, leaving the forest devastated in no time. One enormous tree is left.
The cutters approach. A few protesters stand in their way. They fight while the weather storms around them. After many fall, the cutters eventually triumph. One cutter looks to the bodies scattered around, then to the large tree, then to the destroyed forest. They plant themself in front of the other cutters moving toward the last tree. The weather again matches the tension as the one cutter argues with the others. One at a time, the other cutters look around. The tension in their bodies lessen. They turn to the fallen and weep. The weather turns light, the people move out to plant seeds, convincing the cutters they encount
er to become keepers. The music and lights from the Aether slowly fade away.
The crowd erupts in applause.
“Hm. This should be interesting,” Sosimo says.
“Why?” Iona asks. “That was amazing.”
“It was also a stab at the royal family. The King won’t tolerate that well.”
“It was? What did it mean?” Nero asks.
“I believe it’s expressing her frustration with the corruption and deviation from our roots. She’ll probably go to prison for it.” Sosimo points at the results screen. “Here, look. The scores are coming in.”
The audience falls silent at first, but as soon as the score from the second judge pops up, an uproar of boos and complaints ensues. Each of the scores is much lower than the previous competitors.
“What's going on, Sosimo? Someone’s messing up,” Korbin says.
Sosimo nods. “They're not messing up; they're just too scared to vote in favor. They don't want to bring the King down on them.” The last score pops up, and it is a perfect ten out of ten, which spurs the crowd into cheers. “Unlike that judge…”
“What's going to happen to them?” Thea asks.
“It depends how mad the King is. Hopefully, if the judge keeps her head low, she’ll avoid most of the mess.”
After the crowd settles, the final competitor performs and comes out with the highest score. The canopy in the stadium opens and Illi’s late afternoon light creeps in. Several podiums are set up for the finales of the day, medals awarded to each of the competitors. Rae Mezlerra does not even make the podium.
“And that concludes another fantastic display of Aether weaving,” the announcer says. “Now, I hope the children are excited, because it’s finally time to see what our young are capable of in Capture the Orb!” The crowd cheers. “If you were accepted to the game, please make your way to the arena to check in. We’ll be starting soon.”
“That’s your cue, children. Remember: if you get hit with Aether or knocked over, you’re out. Also, keep in mind that the arena is set up to give Borukins going for the orb Aether, so they’ll be able to use lepisents, just like you. Good luck. I’ll be watching.”