Race the Sands

by Sarah Beth Durst

  But Raia was already moving to the cage and letting herself inside. She settled, sensibly, in one corner, out of reach of his claws. Tamra felt the other trainers and riders staring at them and knew they were judging her.

  “Another of your special training exercises?” Osir called.

  She made a rude gesture at him as she climbed onto the bench. “Go,” she instructed the rhino-croc. He lurched forward, beginning their journey to their first race.

  Chapter 12

  The day after she’d said goodbye to her mother, Shalla scrubbed her cheeks and pinned her braided hair back tight against her scalp. Their teachers liked all students to be clean, especially when meeting citizens. She hummed to herself, checked her tunic for any stray stains, and then lowered herself to the center of the floor and crossed her legs to wait.

  This was a room for waiting: a smooth black floor, a blue glass ceiling, and eight tiled walls. She began with the first tile, a large bronze star. This was where you always began. She then let her eyes trace the pattern, following the swirling lines from star to star.

  By the time she’d completed three walls, her mind felt nicely calm, the way it was supposed to, not all swirly like it had felt when she’d rushed out of the house. Mama had wanted extra time to say goodbye because she was leaving for a race. She’d be gone for two nights, and Shalla was to stay with the augurs in the temple for extra training.

  Shalla didn’t like to let Mama see, because she didn’t want to worry her, but she hated staying at the temple. It wasn’t that she disliked the place—everything about it was beautiful and clean and smooth as ancient stone. And she had plenty of friends here. The students who were wards of the temple had been so glad that she was staying for a little while, and she was happy to spend more time with them. Plus, she liked her studies and understood how important it was that she excel.

  But it wasn’t the same as being home.

  At home, no one was grading her.

  At home, she didn’t have to win anyone’s approval.

  At home, no one judged her. Mama just loved her, no matter what she said or did, and that made it restful, even if the food wasn’t as good or the beds weren’t as comfortable. Being there made her feel comfortable on the inside.

  In her soul.

  I feel like I belong, instead of always trying to belong.

  Her teachers would have said that was ridiculous. She belonged here, with others like her, whose past lives mirrored hers. But they aren’t like me—at least, they don’t have a mama as nice as mine.

  Shalla grinned at the thought of Mama’s reaction to being called “nice.” “Nice is for people without ambition,” Mama liked to say. “I’d rather you be strong.”

  Mama was nice and strong, and Shalla was happy that she’d found another rider who seemed to recognize that. Shalla was proficient enough at reading auras to tell that Raia was a good fit with their little family. No bumpy edges, Shalla thought.

  That’s what auras looked like to her: shapes. More advanced students saw colors and patterns, but she saw layers of shapes. Or at least she could when she concentrated properly.

  The door to the waiting room opened, and one of her teachers, Augur Clari, entered. Shalla looked at her with her second sight and saw a blur—it was impossible to read the aura of a highly skilled augur. As a side effect of their power, they were always shielded, kind of like a racetrack. Shalla thought it made them very calming to look at.

  “Apprentice Shalla, I come with questions.”

  “Then I will offer answers,” Shalla replied immediately, using the traditional response.

  “And if you cannot offer answers?”

  “Then I will posit questions that will lead you to the path of peace.”

  Augur Clari nodded her head approvingly. “You have told us that your mother, Trainer Verlas, has taken on a new student by the name of Raia.”

  “Yes, they are on their way to their first race.” By now, Mama and Raia would have already left. Shalla wished she could have gone with them. She knew if she’d told Mama that, Mama would have fought for her to be allowed to go, but she also knew the augurs would say no. There was too much for her to learn. Besides, I don’t want to be behind in my lessons. She had a duty to Becar—and, as her teachers said, to her destiny.

  A slight frown. “Did I ask that?”

  Shalla lowered her head. “You did not.” She should have realized that Augur Clari already knew. Mama had been planning on talking with her before she left for the race.

  “Focus yourself, child.”

  Shalla looked again at the gold star and traced the swirls with her eyes. Augur Clari waited motionlessly as she completed the first wall, then spoke again. “Where did your mother meet this student?”

  “Gea Market.”

  “Very good. And can you please describe this Raia?”

  “She has no bumpy edges,” Shalla said. “Some shimmering lines. Overlapping ovals but they are full of holes.” The holes, she knew from her studies, were from fear. The lines were choices not yet committed to. But the ovals indicated she was on the right path. A truly balanced soul would be all circles, with no sharp or rough edges.

  Augur Clari graced her with a slight smile. “Tell me her appearance when not seen with the inner sight.”

  “Oh! She’s medium height, as tall as the middle of our kitchen cabinet.” Shalla didn’t know her exact height, but she could picture her, standing in their kitchen. “Black hair that she wears in three braids that she ties together. Her skin is more olive than mine, and she’s prettier when she smiles. Like she’s so surprised that she’s smiling, so she smiles even more.”

  “Can you guess her age?”

  “She’s seventeen. She told me so.”

  “What else did she tell you, about where she’s from and why she’s here?”

  Shalla wondered why Augur Clari was asking so many questions about Raia. She wanted to ask her own questions, but that would lead to a lecture. It wasn’t her place to question, unless it was to request a clarification of a lesson. “She wants to live in the present and future. I respected that.”

  “Very well.” Augur Clari turned to leave, her robes sweeping like a whisper against the black stone floor.

  “Augur Clari, I come with questions,” Shalla tried. “Why do you ask about Raia? She’s a good student, a good housemate, and a good friend.”

  For an instant, Shalla thought she’d overstepped and Augur Clari was going to scold her instead of answering. But then Augur Clari said, “Because it appears she has not been a good daughter.”

  She opened the door, and Shalla saw there were three people clustered nearby, as if they’d been listening in on their conversation. Using the serenity of the waiting room to boost her inner sight, she studied them: a man and a woman, whose auras looked like triangles intersecting. And a third man, younger and handsome, whose aura looked like crossed arrows so sharp that Shalla recoiled.

  Why were these people with ugly souls in the temple? Why had Augur Clari brought them here, to listen to Shalla? And why did they want to know about Raia?

  As these questions popped into her mind, her calm shattered, and she lost her sense of their auras. Augur Clari shut the door as the strangers began to badger her with questions about where to find Mama’s training grounds, where the races were, and where they lived.

  Surely, Augur Clari won’t give them any more answers, Shalla thought. Her teacher must be able to see their auras. She was skilled enough to naturally read auras, whether she was calm or not. She wouldn’t put Raia in any danger. Or Mama.

  Shalla wished she weren’t confined to the temple until Mama returned. She very much wanted to talk to her. And warn her.

  Miles away, Tamra breathed in the smell of the racetrack: the thick scents of kehoks, human sweat, beer, roasted pigeon, all mixed with the sweet smells of citrus and jasmine. She’d been told the warring scents were enough to make the faint of heart dizzy, but to her, it smelled like coming home
.

  Already there were a half-dozen racers and riders on the track, getting a feel for the sand, snarling at one another. Tamra didn’t intend to take Raia and the lion there yet. They’d be better off at the camp, where they could grow accustomed to being in a new location together. The races would start in the morning—Raia had been scheduled for the third heat, while her friends from their training grounds were slotted in heats two, four, and five.

  Tamra eyed the competition as they rode by: the usual mix of lizardlike kehoks, plus a jackal, a few felines, and one massive snake. The riders looked young. Every year, they look younger. And nervous. A few were talking to each other, but most were coaxing their kehoks onto the sand. All the monsters wore muzzles and shackles, a requirement before the races. The officials didn’t want any fighting between the racers ahead of time.

  She found their campsite. Since she came from one of the lesser training grounds, it wasn’t an ideal spot—too close to the latrines for any real privacy and without any shade. But riders couldn’t expect luxury at the qualifiers. As you progressed through the races, the tracks and the accommodations became nicer, until the finals, when racers were housed in glorious stables and riders had a plush campsite with a view of the palace. She’d even gotten a glimpse of the emperor himself once, or the late emperor to be more accurate, in the Heart of Becar.

  Leaving Raia in the cage to continue whatever ridiculous conversation she was having with her monster, Tamra pitched the tent. She then filled the canteens with fresh water from the tanks. As she was hauling them back to their site, she heard a voice she vaguely recognized.

  “Found another fool to maul?”

  She turned, thinking it was one of the trainers she’d clashed with in a prior season, but to her surprise, it wasn’t. “Fetran. You’re looking well.” Her student, one of the two who had gotten hurt. And now the pipsqueak was sneering at her.

  “All Becar is going to know your training methods are for shit when I, after suffering injuries caused by your negligence, come back and win with the guidance of a new trainer.”

  It was the longest speech she’d ever heard Fetran make. She wondered who wrote it for him. “Good luck with that,” she told him neutrally. “I don’t wish you ill.”

  “You’ve already done me ill,” he snarled.

  “You lost control of your racer on a shielded track,” she pointed out. “You do realize that to win a race, you need to succeed at what caused you to fail.”

  “Now that I’m free of you, I will!” He then pivoted and stalked off. “Just watch me win! I’m in the third race with your new fool, and I’ll be placing first!”

  Tamra rolled her eyes. She wanted to point out that he hadn’t ever been tied to her. In fact, his parents had paid her to teach him, as they were probably paying his new trainer. She hoped the little idiot didn’t die in the race. While that would teach him a valuable lesson, he most likely wouldn’t remember it in his next life.

  Returning to her campsite, she said to Raia and the black lion, “I’d like you two to do me a favor in the race. See them?” She pointed to Fetran and his mount, a large green-scaled lizard with thick horns on its head. “They’ll be running in your heat. Whatever else happens, please make sure you run faster than them.”

  Raia prepared her bed next to the black lion’s cage—outside it, of course, because she wasn’t an idiot—but she didn’t want to sleep inside the tent. She wanted the lion to be able to see her and know she hadn’t left him alone.

  Watching her, Trainer Verlas shook her head. “After this race is over, we’re going to have a long talk about not projecting your own thoughts and emotions onto a simplistic killing machine.”

  “He’s not simplistic,” Raia said, checking for rocks under her bedding. “He understands me.”

  “Just don’t forget he’ll kill you if he can.”

  “He and I had a long discussion about that. It was a one-sided conversation, but I think he agreed with me. He knows if he kills me, you’ll kill him.” She thought he’d understood much more than that, but she knew she wasn’t going to convince Trainer Verlas. She’d have more luck convincing her the sky was purple. Even despite all the progress they’d made out on the sands, Trainer Verlas still seemed to believe the kehok couldn’t understand more than the basic idea of racing equals freedom.

  “Very true—if he kills you, he dies.” Shooting one more glare at the black lion, Trainer Verlas let herself into the tent. “He’s useless to me if he won’t take a rider, and you’re the only one I’ve got.” The tent flap flopped shut behind her.

  Climbing into her bedroll, Raia looked up at the stars. Only a few were visible. Most of the sky was a matte gray, lightened by the torches that lit the racetrack and the nearby city. “We’re racing tomorrow,” she said out loud.

  She let the words roll around in her mind, trying to get used to them. She knew there were other riders here who had dreamed of this moment for years. They’d imagined themselves as riders when they were little kids, playing at it with horses and goats and whatever else would let them ride. But she never had—she’d never had any choice in her future. Her parents had always told her what to do, who to be, and who she would become. The first act that she’d taken on her own, in the augur temple, had been to fail.

  I’m not going to fail this time.

  She held that thought close to her as she slept, and she dreamed about running fast. She woke to sounds all around her—the laughter, cheers, and shouts of other riders and their trainers, the screams of kehoks being brought out of their cages and prepared for the race. Sitting up, she saw Trainer Verlas was already awake and alert.

  Seeing her, Trainer Verlas tossed her a canteen. “Rinse out your mouth, use the latrine, do what you need to do, but try not to think too much.”

  It was good advice.

  Hard to follow, but good.

  Raia cleaned herself, dressed, and tried not to stare at the other riders who all looked so much more confident and experienced than she felt. Of course they’re more confident. I bet all of them have run around a track at least once without jumping out of it. All around her, the other riders were chattering excitedly, as if this was a festival, while they prepared their mounts. But Raia was in anything but a festive mood.

  “Hey, Raia, smile!” Jalimo called.

  Making a fist, Silar bopped him lightly on the head. “She’s focusing, idiot.”

  “Ow.” He rubbed his scalp as if she’d pounded him. “I was just trying to say she should enjoy herself. It’s not every day you get to dare death.”

  “That is literally what we do every day,” Silar said. She waved at Raia. “Good luck out there. Hope you make it through!”

  “Yeah, we can hope for that, since we’re not racing against you,” Jalimo said.

  “Good luck!” Raia called to them. “Hope you make it through too!”

  She couldn’t decide if it was better to have friends who were rooting for her, or worse because there were people to disappoint. But there wasn’t time for an endless spiral of self-doubt—Trainer Verlas made sure of that. She barked orders, and Raia hurried to feed the black lion, saddle him, and prepare to walk him to the track.

  “You’ll lead him without any chains from here to the track and wait until the race officials are ready before you proceed to your starting gate,” Trainer Verlas said. “It’s showboating, but it also serves as an essential first step. Anyone who cannot control their kehok during the pre-race period is immediately disqualified. I won’t be allowed to help you. I’ll be with the other trainers in the stands.”

  “I can do this,” Raia said, though she wasn’t certain if she was talking to Trainer Verlas, the black lion, or herself. But she felt it was true, for one of the first times in her life. Perhaps the only other time she remembered was when she’d cheered herself on as she climbed out the window of her family’s house and fled into the unknown.

  “Once the race starts, all you need to do is run,” Trainer Verlas remin
ded her. “Stay in the moment. The future will follow as it will.”

  Raia nodded.

  She was beginning to understand why so few people even tried monster racing. Constant terror is a bit of a distraction, she thought. But if she couldn’t dispel her fear, she could use it, like Trainer Verlas kept telling her.

  Across the camp, Raia heard a commotion: cheers and shouts as other riders and spectators flocked to cluster around a new arrival. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to see who the fuss was about, but Trainer Verlas poked her in the shoulder. “Just a hotshot rider. Every season has them. Ignore him. You won’t gain anything by comparing yourself to anyone else.”

  Turning her back on the popular rider and his fans, Raia saddled the black lion. Trainer Verlas checked all the buckles and straps, and then Raia rechecked them.

  Beyond the campsites, from the stands by the racetrack, she heard even louder cheering. Her heart felt as if it were beating in her throat. She swallowed hard. The first heat was underway.

  “Ready?” Trainer Verlas asked.

  “Can I say no?” Raia asked.

  “I’m going to assume you’re joking.”

  “I’m joking,” Raia said quickly. I’m not. She took a deep breath in, and she began to remove the chains and shackles.

  Trainer Verlas laid a hand on her shoulder. “Let me. You mount.”

  Raia climbed into the saddle while Trainer Verlas moved around the black lion, unhooking the chains and removing the shackles. She was murmuring to the lion, but Raia couldn’t hear what she was saying. Probably threatening him, Raia thought.

  She felt the black lion tense beneath her—he knew that the chains were released. “Steady,” she whispered in his ear.

  He flicked his ear back at her.

  He’d heard her.

  She just didn’t know if he cared.

  “Walk,” she commanded.

  For one excruciating instant, he did not move, and she thought her racing dreams were over before they began. But then he strode forward. She kept her eyes fixed ahead of her. She knew Trainer Verlas was somewhere nearby, watching. She knew others were probably watching too, but she kept her focus narrowed on just her lion and where she needed him to go.