Rise of the Reaper

by Lorna Reid

  ‘What items?’ Isa rounded on Air, who, for once, looked flustered.

  ‘Ah … we can talk about that later. Pav, here’s double, and more to come. I swear.’

  ‘If swears were bears, I’d be dead a thousand times over.’ Pavit scooped up the coins, shook his head, and led them into the back room, muttering to himself.

  ‘What items? What are you up to now?’ Isa plucked Air’s arm, but he wriggled away and fell into step with Pavit, who was weaving in and out of boxes like the world’s most practised pinball until he reached a shelf laden with old bolts of cloth. He tugged at the shelf and a section of wall swung outward, making Russell jump.

  ‘Whoa!’ Katrina said. ‘I want one of those.’

  ‘Hurry up and go away, all of you. And keep quiet if you get caught. I’ll be closed down.’ He shoved them through and, without ceremony, clicked the door closed behind them.

  ‘Excited?’ Air whispered, leading them through a network of old packing crates, dusty bottles, and barrels.

  ‘We’re not here for the damn game, Air,’ reminded Isa. He ignored her and led them out past old rooms with the smell of damp creeping from the open doors, along passages, and up steps until the air seemed to become less stale. Russell could smell frying meat and bread and it made his stomach growl. Danny had also detected it, and he picked up pace until he was practically tripping over Air’s heels.

  ‘Whereabouts are we?’ asked Poppy.

  ‘Working our way up from one of the storage basements beneath the stadium,’ said Air. ‘Here.’ He arrived at a sturdy door and veered into a nearby room. ‘That door’s always locked, so some bright spark years ago made their own way in.’ He led them to a corner and shoved aside a large crate, behind which was a neat hole in the wall. They snaked through, then crept out from behind a shield of crates and followed Air to the top of some stairs with a chain across them.

  ‘Coast is clear, let’s move.’ He held up the chain and they ducked beneath it, Russell trying hard to pretend he didn’t see the ‘no admission’ sign dangling from it.

  A buzz of noise drew them along a well-maintained passageway, past several toilet doors – none specifically marked male or female, he was surprised to notice – until they spilled out into a crowded bar with patrons crammed around every table and surface, eating, arguing, and swilling dregs around glasses.

  ‘Half-time, so we haven’t missed too much.’

  ‘Air, we’re here to see the Oracle, or at least Thom and her escorts.’ Isa pushed past her brother and led the way out into the sunlight. It shaved Russell’s eyeballs, making him flinch to the point where he slowed down, causing Katrina to plough into the back of him.

  ‘Watch where you’re …’ She stopped. ‘Oh. Fuck.’

  ‘What is this?’ Poppy said, leaning in to Isa to avoid her question being lost in the stadium full of voices.

  ‘It’s the Crystal Stadium – home of the city’s Aquattrox games, and mainstay for our team, the Lallial Blades.’

  ‘But … wow,’ Poppy said, trailing off. Russell could only concur. They stared out over the stadium, open to the cloudless blue sky. Beyond the white, raked benches, which plummeted downwards, lay a vast, stunning blue stretch of water, catching and teasing the sunlight until it made his eyes ache.

  The noises of thousands of voices, laughing, talking, rowing, shouting, and singing pressed down on Russell as much as the breathtaking expanse of blue stretching out lengthways before them made his heart soar.

  At the two corners furthest from where they stood were what looked like circular penned areas, each separated from the main field of water by a black gate. Shapes darted and flitted inside but were too far away for Russell to make out clearly. What sport is this? Russell thought.

  ‘This …’ Air led them down the steps to a thick barrier and hopped up on the bottom rung, flinging his arms out wide. ‘This … is Aquattrox.’

  ‘Actually, that’ – Isa motioned at the water, perhaps twenty or thirty metres below them – ‘is the Aquarvum, the water field upon which Aquattrox is played. Those are the players’ enclosures in the two corners opposite.’

  Russell looked across at the flitting shapes once again, still none the wiser, and then leaned out as much as he dared in order to survey the length of the vast oblong water field. The corners were curved, and the whole field was edged with delicate blue stone that met the lapping water. He shook his head and shrugged at the others.

  ‘So, what is it? You said people rode dolphins?’ Katrina shuffled on the rail and stared out toward the players’ enclosures.

  ‘Delphans. And it’s one of the biggest sports in the Lands,’ said Air, fidgeting with the equally restless crowd. The buzz had increased, cutting an expectant edge that Russell could feel in his bones. ‘Two teams of thirteen players and they have to score points with the blackball. Here they come!’

  At the two furthest corners of the field, the large gates cranked upwards and, to a deafening cheer, the teams shot out into the Aquarvum and spread out.

  ‘Those things look mean.’ Danny pointed at a Delphan as it surged past below them, its rider low on its back between two dorsal fins – the rear one being smaller and darker.

  ‘Some can be. Some teams breed it into them, but it’s generally frowned upon,’ said Isa.

  When several players swept past at a more relaxed pace, Russell noted more differences between the Delphans and their dolphin cousins. Their noses were blunter and their skin darker, bluish-black, with mottling on their undersides that appeared to vary from creature to creature.

  They had on thin black harnesses, but the players barely held onto them or the front fins, instead gripping with their legs as they skimmed effortlessly through the water. ‘Why don’t they put their feet in the loops on those harnesses?’ said Poppy.

  ‘They only really use them to stay on when the Delphan dives, otherwise they risk getting hurt if they come off and get their foot or ankle caught,’ explained Isa.

  ‘The Lallial Blades are in silver and blue, there.’ Air pointed to some of the players who were riding side by side, making last-minute adjustments to their short-sleeved clothing, which was matt-looking and skintight. Intricate metal wrist and leg greaves caught the light above fingerless gloves and bare feet. Each player held a double-ended pole with one flat end like a slender paddle, while the other end boasted a shallow silver net.

  ‘Those are Aclys. They use them to take, hold, and pass the ball. They can’t touch it with their hands,’ said Isa, sounding more excited than she probably wanted to let on.

  ‘Can they kick it?’ asked Katrina, watching the players sweep around the field, leaping over one another, or soaring over the outstretched Aclys of their teammates to cheers from the crowd.

  ‘They’re not technically allowed,’ said Air. ‘The ball usually sinks when it hits the water anyway, so there’s little chance. They have to go under for it. That’s why they wear special lenses in their eyes, so they can see.’

  Something was bothering Russell and he struggled with what it was while Isa pointed out three referees in black and silver who had ridden out onto the field.

  Then it hit him. ‘Where do they score? Where are the goals?’

  Air looked at Isa and they shared a grin as three players in red uniforms leapt into the air in unison to an appreciative roar from the crowd and plunged back into the water.

  ‘That’s the best bit,’ she said. ‘You’ll see any moment. What’s the score?’ she asked her brother.

  Air squinted at the scoreboard at the right end of the stadium. ‘Blades, twenty-five; Spines, twenty-seven,’ he groaned.

  Isa pulled a face. ‘Closer than I wanted it to be. Flamefish Spines only need two more Grade points to take top place in the league. Teams get two Grade points for every match won, so if they snatch this they’ll take top place from the Blades and win the final.’

  The referees had spread out across the field and the man in the centre came to a halt, clutchin
g a small black ball in his hands. Tension lay thickly over the crowd, stifling the noise until there was nothing but a cloying silence.

  ‘Here we go,’ hissed Air, grabbing his sister’s arm.

  The players had scattered over the field and seemed to be waiting for something. Each referee raised a stubby red stick into the air, which spewed out a small column of black flame and was accompanied by a low whistle. At once, a chilled breeze buffeted their faces and Russell leaned forward with Danny and the others, eyes raking the water while the crowd murmured, many taking to their feet.

  Without warning, the surface of the water was broken across the length of the field by spiralling black waterspouts swaying drunkenly into the air. ‘Each vortex is a different size and speed,’ said Isa as the watery tornados lurched to and fro on the spot.

  ‘Those are the goals?’ Katrina’s voice swung so high Russell thought it might break, but he could fully understand – his stomach was flipping.

  ‘They look terrifying from up here, let alone down there,’ said Poppy, echoing Russell’s thoughts. The columns were eerie, almost malevolent. Rather them than me, he thought, watching the players.

  The referees released another volley of flames and then the vortices began to move over the field, lurching in different directions. ‘You’re kidding. It wasn’t hard enough?’ Russell exclaimed, earning grins from Isa and Air.

  The referee threw the ball into the water and retreated as the players swarmed in, several sliding beneath the now-choppy water.

  ‘What happens if you touch one of those things?’ asked Katrina, drawing a sharp breath as a player narrowly avoided a fast-moving vortex, which had cut unexpectedly into her path.

  ‘Anything,’ said Isa. ‘Usually knocks them off or pulls them under or up. They move randomly, so it’s hard to judge them. That’s half the skill of being an Aquattrox player.’

  The crowd roared as a silver-clad figure broke the surface with the blackball in her net and flung it to another player, who sped away with three Spines in hot pursuit.

  The speed of the game was incredible, with the players weaving expertly around the swaying black columns, hurling the ball between one another.

  A player in red popped out of the water behind one of the Blades and slammed the ball from her net with the flat of his Aclys. It was scooped up by one of his team, who urged her Delphan between two Blades players and straight at a large, slow-moving vortex.

  ‘No!’ screamed Air, grabbing his head with clawed hands. The Delphan leapt out of the water, its dappled underbelly visible among the spray as the player swept the net of her Aclys up, then down, hard, flinging the ball at the mouth of the vortex. The spout flared red as she sliced down into the water and resurfaced some distance away. The crowd roared and Isa and Airrell pounded the rail and hissed.

  ‘It changed colour,’ said Danny.

  ‘Changes to indicate the team who scored,’ said Airrell, never taking his eyes off the ball, which was now in the possession of a small Blades player who raced down the field and swerved round a thick black vortex. One of the Spines players cut around the opposite side to join him and flung out his Aclys, hitting the man and sending him crashing from his mount, blood churning in the foam.

  ‘Slice! Slice!’ screamed Air, dancing with rage and leaning out to scream a barrage of abuse. A referee swept up to the offending player, trailing black flames from his stick, and shouted at the surly man.

  ‘He’ll be sent off for that, maybe a ban next season,’ said Isa.

  ‘Should be thrown out for fucking good,’ raged Airrell. ‘Sharpened Aclys are illegal.’ The man was ordered from the field while two people in white uniforms hauled the injured player from the water and carried him away, the riderless Delphan swimming behind.

  ‘That’s the trouble with the Flamefish Spines, they’re as poisonous as their namesake,’ said Air with utter contempt.

  Several young men leaning on the rail nearby turned their heads. They were wearing red shirts and huge scowls. One of them moved toward them and, for a second, Russell thought that there was going to be trouble.

  Isa stepped forward and placed her hand on the hilt of her sword. They took one look at her stars, her weapon, and her poised demeanour and backed off, one man shrinking back and pretending he had only been stretching.

  Back on the field, the Blades were in possession of the ball and the Spines had been docked five points. The blood had long dissipated, but the trace memory of it made Russell shiver. And not just him. Katrina had stepped back from the rail and he caught her glance. This isn’t what we came for, he thought.

  ‘I think we should go and find the Oracle now,’ she said.

  Isa suddenly seemed to realise what she was doing and jerked away from the rail. ‘Damn it, yes. What in Neath are we doing?’

  ‘But … but …’

  ‘Look, beanbag, you can stay here if you like, but we’re going.’

  ‘She’s in the middle of an Aquattrox stadium. She doesn’t need to be told right now.’ Air’s desperation was palpable.

  Isa snorted and marched off with Katrina and Russell following close behind. Poppy and Danny were somewhat more reluctant to leave, but clearly hated the idea of being left behind more, so scurried to catch up while barely keeping their eyes off the game.

  ‘She’ll be in the Crystal Box – reserved only for special dignitaries and the like. It’s got a prime view of the field.’ Isa pointed toward the opposite side of the water field, where, through the jostling bodies around them, Russell could make out a shaded box with ornate railings.

  As they inched through the crowd, the game carried on below, with Russell and the others catching snatched pieces: players diving beneath the surface to avoid collisions or stalk others, popping up and snatching the ball, or leaping into the air. The ball was flung, dunked, and smashed from nets; vortices flared and changed colour; players crashed into one another in mid-air or knocked one another into the water.

  A sharp roar from the crowd had them pressing back to the rail – a Blade had rammed an opponent into a vortex. The victim’s Delphan was plunged under the surface, while the man was ripped up the column and eventually spat out halfway across the field, crashing into the invisible crowd barrier and plunging unconscious into the water.

  Airrell didn’t seem to find a foul by one of his own team as bad and cheered loudly as the man was rescued and removed from the game. ‘Nearly there,’ Isa called back. They had made their way almost completely halfway round the arena, and Russell could see the box, but even more of an issue than the lack of actual doorway was the hulking guard stationed against the wall.

  ‘Damn,’ Isa muttered, ducking down a set of steps and into the stadium’s cool interior. Russell’s hot skin breathed a sigh of relief, and they skirted along plush corridors until they reached a set of guarded, locked iron gates.

  ‘Arms Captain Isa Fernstrom. I need to speak urgently with either the escort commander or Force Captain Thomas Kolton, immediately. I believe the Oracle’s life to be in danger.’

  The guards’ hands eased from their hilts, and one spoke through the gate to a companion on the other side, giving him a quick, muttered message.

  *

  Poppy watched Danny fidget and shuffle, knowing that he, like her, was torn between watching the game and having a chance to see the Oracle again, even if it was to warn her about Katrina’s vision.

  After what seemed like an age to her impatient feet, two guards and one of the Oracle’s escorts arrived at the gate. The woman’s hair was pulled up in a complicated but practical knot, and her dress had been replaced by tight trousers, knee-length boots, and a green satin tunic shirt that showed off elaborate swirling tattoos down both arms.

  ‘You know them?’ one guard asked.

  ‘Yes,’ the woman replied, giving Danny a foul look. He glowered briefly and then his gaze retreated to his feet. Too right, Poppy thought.

  ‘We need to speak with her,’ said Isa.

&nb
sp; ‘No,’ stated the woman. Poppy blinked, even as Isa’s expression hardened. Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t a flat-out refusal. ‘You can pass on your message and we’ll see that she gets it.’

  ‘No,’ snapped Isa. ‘I refuse to be fobbed off. This is her life we’re talking about. If you can’t or won’t help, then fetch Thom Kolton.’

  ‘I’m not your junior officer nor your errand pup,’ said the woman, touching the hilt of her sword and walking away.

  Isa was incandescent and ordered the guards from the gate. They looked terrified and uncertain, glancing from the escort back to Isa, unsure who to listen to.

  ‘We don’t have time for this,’ Katrina raged, marching toward them. ‘Thom! Thom!’ she yelled. The Oracle’s escort looked appalled.

  ‘Be quiet.’

  ‘Thom!’ Katrina yelled through the gate.

  ‘Do you know how often she leaves her home? Do you know how long she’s been a recluse for? How little she gets to see of the city? Any city? Do you know what an Oracle’s life is like?’ the woman raged through the bars.

  ‘She won’t see anything if she’s dead, will she?’ snapped Poppy.

  The guards traded glances, looking more unsettled by the moment.

  ‘Why don’t you tell Thom that she’s going to die in his arms, in a fucking pool of blood, unless I speak to her?’ Katrina’s voice was shaking as much as her body. Goosebumps raced along Poppy’s arms and down her spine.

  Nobody spoke, they just stared at Katrina who was standing, fists clenched, glaring at the Oracle’s escort. What did you see? Poppy thought. As much as she itched to know, she also dreaded it. To not know perhaps meant, in some stupid way, that it wouldn’t happen.

  ‘Open the gate,’ came a quiet order from behind the escort.

  ‘Thom!’ Danny called. The man moved to the gate and gave a small smile, but his eyes were serious.

  The guards fumbled with several locks – one of which appeared to be magical – and then yanked the gate back, allowing them through, much to the disgust of the escort, who glided back up the steps looking furious.