by Lili Zander
Damn it. This absolutely sucks.
Before I know it, it's time to wake up. I take a steaming hot shower and get dressed. We eat our morning meal in silence. The usual banter is absent; the vampires seem stressed and on-edge.
Saber doesn’t meet my eyes. I can’t make out what he’s thinking. Torn between tension and embarrassment, I don’t know how to act around him.
You don’t have to be a mind-reader. Just tell him what you’re thinking. Tell him you’re attracted to him. You might not make it back from Glacis. Tell him now, before it’s too late.
But it’s more than that. I’m attracted to all three vampires. To Saber, who is unexpectedly kind. To Zeke, who always has an answer and a ready smile. To Nero, who makes me laugh when I need it the most.
To a vampire, the concept of multiple partners is normal. They even have a word for it: bô. My desire for all three vampires might surprise them, but it wouldn’t shock them. But it shocks me. Three men. No, three vampires. How can I be attracted to men I should consider my enemies? What does it say about me?
Nero’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “It’s time to go.”
The start point of the race is in the outskirts of the colony, in the ice deserts closest to Sector 25. There is already a large crowd of people there when we arrive. Overlord Zimmer is there, of course, as is his second-in-command, Olaf Vandar.
There’s also a man I recognize from the holos, a tall man with perceptive, green-gray eyes. Prince Ragnar, the Empress’ half-brother.
The moment they see him, Saber, Nero, and Zeke bow low. “Prince Ragnar,” Saber says, his voice even. “What a pleasure it is to see you here.”
The prince gives Saber an amused look. “I must say,” he quips, “that I'm quite surprised to see three of the Empire's best soldiers in the middle of nowhere. It’s been a while, Saber. What are you doing here?”
Saber grimaces. “The General was not pleased by my failure in Rothis,” he says. “I'm here to whip the enforcers on this colony into shape.”
Ragnar's expression sharpens with understanding. “Levitan has you on a punishment tour,” he says. “What a shame.” He claps Saber on the back. “Let’s catch up. Klaus and I are dining together tonight. Join me for a drink afterward.”
It’s not a request; it’s an order. Saber tilts his head in agreement. “I’d be delighted to.”
The prince’s eyes flicker to me. He takes in the way Nero and Zeke flank me protectively, and his eyebrow rises. “I’d heard you were sponsoring a contestant.”
Saber smiles blandly. “You know me. I like to get involved.”
Ragnar gives him a speculative look before turning back to Overlord Zimmer. “Let's kick this off. This is not a warm planet, and I’d much rather be indoors.”
The Overlord nods eagerly. “Of course, Prince Ragnar.” He turns to us. “Contestants, please line up.”
I join the nine others at the marked line. An enforcer hands me a backpack. Before I can wonder what's in it, Overlord Zimmer offers the prince an explanation. “In their packs,” he says, “is equipment that will help them withstand the ice. A tent, a sleeping bag, a portable stove, water, food, and other necessities. There is also a set of ten flares.” He turns back to us. “If you are in trouble and wish to concede, then activate your flare, and a patrol chopper will come for you.” He gives Saber a malicious smile. “Does that meet with your satisfaction?”
Ragnar clears his throat. “Is Saber in the habit of telling you how to run your tournament?”
Hearing the implied rebuke, the Overlord smiles triumphantly. “He was quite insistent that the humans have a way to get back to safety.”
Saber stands his ground. “I will not stand by and watch people die for sport.”
Ragnar’s expression turns bleak. For an instant, he seems to be a different person. Sadder, somehow. “Neither will I,” he agrees. “There is too much death in the universe already.” Then he straightens, and the mask slides back into place. He’s a prince again. “Will you be filming this tournament for the holos, Klaus?”
“Not live, I'm afraid, my Lord,” the Overlord responds apologetically. “We are a poor colony, and we do not have the resources to perform such a task. The contestants will be on their own.”
Of course, we will. There can be no witnesses when the Overlord’s men attack me.
“Drones will be flying overhead twice a day and recording the contestants,” he continues. “We will show the footage on the holos.”
“A poor colony?” Ragnar snorts derisively. “Surely you jest. Never mind. Get on with it.”
With a discomfited expression on his face, Overlord Zimmer moves to the makeshift podium. He makes a brief speech about how honored he is that Ragnar’s visiting Boarus 4, and then he moves on to the actual tournament. “As you know,” he announces to the crowd, “The contestants will have to find five flags that are spread all over Glacis. The first one to return with all five will be crowned the winner of this year's Night of the Shayde. The rules are pretty simple. You may not use a skimmer, or a chopper to get to the flags. Is that clear?”
I nod, as do the others.
“On the count of three, you may begin. One… Two… Three.”
We set off in a run. The Night of the Shayde has begun. One way or another, this will all be over in a few days.
I haven’t discussed strategy with Saber, Zeke, and Nero, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about it. Ever since Zimmer announced the location, Glacis has been on my mind.
I’ve reached a few conclusions.
One: I cannot win if I walk on the ice.
Two: I cannot win if I travel at night.
Three: Most importantly, I cannot let anyone die out here.
There is a small hill in front of us, and we run up it, and slide down the other side. As soon as we’re out of sight of the crowd, I call out to the others. “Hey. Wait a minute.”
Everyone is still within earshot. They turn around and look at me, suspicion etched on their faces. “What do you want?” one of them asks.
I can complete the tournament. I might not win, but I’ve had ten years of experience surviving Glacis. I’m relatively confident I’ll stay alive.
But the others? They’re from the inner sectors. They’ve never experienced the harshness of the ice deserts. They won’t make it. And maybe I should let them fail, but I can’t. There’s no margin of error out here. If you do something stupid, you will die.
I’ve lost my parents. Ma Kaila is in the Overlord’s dungeon, and I blame myself for her arrest. If the enforcers hadn’t been looking for me, they would have never found her.
I cannot let these nine people run into Glacis without warning them of some of the dangers that lie ahead. If anything were to happen to them, I would never be able to forgive myself.
“I lived out here for ten years,” I tell them. “Let me give you some tips.”
One of the girls—I think her name is Molly—looks at me warily. “Why should we trust you?”
They’re edging closer to me. Good. “These are the ice deserts. If you don't know what you're doing, you will die.”
“I'm prepared to listen,” Tomas Cabal, the Overlord’s chosen champion, says. “What can you tell us?”
Thank the Great Spirit. One of them shows some sense. “The most important thing,” I say, “Is that you cannot maintain vampire hours. The ice is littered with mine shafts. If you walk in the dark, you’ll fall into one. Sleep at night and run during the day. Then there are the s’kal cats.”
“S’kal cats?” The young man who asks the question sounds decidedly nervous. “What are those?”
“Predators,” I reply shortly. “They’re about waist high. White in color, so they blend into the ice. Yellow eyes. They hunt in packs. They're afraid of fire. If you see one, use your flare immediately. It’ll buy you some time.”
Molly still looks suspicious. “If we use our flare,” she points out, “The patrol choppers will take
us back. Is that what you're trying to do, thin the field?”
“Listen to me,” I snap. “Surviving out here is the hardest thing you will ever have to do in your life. This isn't about a stupid tournament. This is about staying alive. If a pack of s’kal cats finds you, you burn every single fucking flare, and you hope like hell that you get pulled out by the choppers before they tear you to shreds.”
Tomas is the calmest of the lot. “Got it,” he says. “What else?”
I show them how to pitch their tents. How to use the valleys in the ice deserts as shelter from the bone-chilling winds. I try and cram in ten years of survival into thirty minutes of instruction. “Be cautious,” I finish. “Be careful. Winning isn’t everything. Surviving is.”
Tomas extends his hand to me. “You didn’t have to help us, but you did. Thank you for your kindness, Raven.” He smiles at me warmly. “Good luck in the tournament.”
Though he's sponsored by the Overlord, he still seems a decent sort. Good-looking too. If I had any sense, I’d be attracted to someone like him, not to three infuriating vampires. “Good luck to you too.”
Once the others are out of sight, I turn west. The other contestants are from the inner sectors. They don't know about the dump, the site where everything that’s no longer used by the colony ends up. But I do.
The rules prohibit skimmers. But there are other ways to move around on Glacis, and the easiest one is to harness the power of the wind that constantly blows over the ice.
I’m going to build an ice boat.
The tent will do perfectly well as a sail. Now, I just need to find something that will serve as the base.
The dump is usually picked through, but today, it seems fuller than usual. Everyone must have been too caught up in the excitement of the tournament to scavenge for scraps. Good for me.
I don’t have to look too hard for what I need. After only ten minutes of searching, I find the perfect flat piece of plastic, probably torn off from the roof of one of the pods. I even find a tall pole, one that I can use as a mast.
I lash my mast tightly to the base with some scavenged rope, and then assemble the tent, shaping its frame into a crude sail. By the time the three moons are high in the sky, I'm ready to try it out.
I meant what I said to the others. It is sheer folly to travel at night. But it's not midnight yet, and I've lost time making the boat. Time to gain some of it back.
I toss my pack on the plastic. Strapping the light to my forehead, I raise my sail, gripping the frame tightly to keep my improvised boat on course. A gust of wind catches the fabric, and I start to glide on the ice, faster than most people think possible.
The others are new to Glacis, but I spent ten years here.
I intend on winning this tournament.
21
Zeke
Boarus 4
Sundown, NinthDay of FourthMonth
We watched the contestants disappear from sight. Ragnar wants Saber to walk back with him. “Nero, Zeke, join us.”
Saber shakes his head. “I’m afraid they cannot,” he says apologetically. “They’re working. General Levitan is already displeased with me. I’d prefer not to give him any more ammunition.”
Ragnar nods understandingly. “Of course,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work. If you’re done early, join us in Klaus’ palace.”
That’s not going to happen. We’re going to spend the entire night watching over Raven, making sure she's safe.
As we walk back, Saber drops back to talk to Nero and me. “I knew Ragnar would be a complication,” he murmurs darkly. “If I turn him down, he’ll get suspicious. I’ll join you as quickly as I can, but if you see a threat, call me right away.”
“Will do.” Saber hasn’t recovered from Rothis. He feels responsible for the death of our teammates. He likes Raven, as do I, as does Nero, but Saber’s emotions run deeper than most. If something were to happen to Raven, it would affect all of us, but none more than Saber.
The delegation isn’t used to being on the outskirts of town. They quickly head back to the clean and ordered streets of the inner sectors. When they’re out of sight, Nero turns to me. “Let’s head to Sector 23. I have a skimmer stashed there.”
We walk quickly. Nero’s skimmer is indeed where it’s supposed to be. It’s a top-of-the-line model and looks brand new. I raise my eyebrow as he climbs on. “Dare I ask how you got your hands on this?”
Nero shrugs. “I spent some time in the taverns, and I bought a lot of drinks. It bought me some goodwill. Most people here loathe Zimmer. The only reason they haven’t risen up in rebellion is because they’re too afraid. The Overlord seems to have locked up a member of every family in either his dungeons or in his re-education camps.” He looks angry for a minute. “In any case, we have access to this skimmer for as long as we need it.”
“Nicely done.” I open a map of Boarus 4, zooming to our location. “It’s been half an hour. The crowd would have left. Let’s get back to the starting line.”
Nero guns the skimmer. “Got it.”
A light snow is falling, and the contestants’ footsteps are clearly visible. Most of the tracks lead toward the north, deeper into Glacis, but one set of tracks leads west. I pore over my screen, to try to figure out what the lone contestant was heading toward. “The dump?”
“What?”
I tilt my screen so that Nero can read it. “There’s a dump here?”
“Of course, there is,” he replies. “It takes up far too much energy to incinerate everything, and so people just pile their garbage on the outskirts of the colony. The outer sector residents scavenge there for anything they might be able to reuse or resell.”
The other contestants are wealthy, and they wouldn't know about the existence of the site. “I'm willing to bet these are Raven's tracks. Let's go find her.”
Nero drives the skimmer. As we near the dump, I use a pair of far-glass to catch a glimpse of Raven. “What is she doing?” I wonder out loud when she comes into view.
Nero takes the glasses from me. “She's building something?”
We watch in silence as Raven works. When she lifts a tall piece of metal in the air, it clicks in place, and I start to grin. “She is clever. She's making an ice boat. She's going to use the wind to propel forward.”
Nero chuckles admiringly. “At the rate she's going, she's going to win the tournament with one hand tied behind her back.”
“That's not necessarily a good thing,” I remind him somberly. “Zimmer cannot allow Raven to win, remember?”
If the attacker is a vampire, like Saber believes, then he'll attack at daybreak. We can fight him. But what if the attack comes from humans? What if it happens during the day? We don’t have enough vigilene to stay awake through the entire tournament. We might not be able to protect her.
Then again, Zimmer treats the humans on his colony like dirt beneath his fingernails. He doesn’t trust them. He treats them like slaves, not allies. There is no way he’ll entrust such an important task to them.
Raven finishes building her boat, and then tests it out, setting her course due north. A gust of wind fills her sail, and she sets off, faster than I'd have thought possible.
Nero laughs out loud. “Look at her go,” he says. He kicks the skimmer into high gear, and we take off after her. “She’s glorious.”
She is glorious. She’s spent ten years in Glacis, enduring hardships that I cannot even imagine, and she’s shaped them into something powerful. She flies through the night on her own terms, and it is all we can do to keep up with her.
Eventually, just after midnight, Raven stops and sets up camp. Hours go by, and we wait, alert and watchful. Nero looks through the far-glass, keeping an eye on her tent. I look at my screen. I’ve hacked into the choppers’ navigation systems. I’ll know if one of them takes off.
Saber joins us at midnight. “Ragnar’s no fool,” he says grimly. “And he’s curious about Raven.”
“Should w
e move up the plan? Steal Zimmer’s ship now, grab Raven and get the hell out of here?”
He shakes his head. “Nero’s contacts aren’t ready for us yet,” he points out. “Besides, as long as Raven’s on Glacis, she’s safe from Ragnar.”
But not from any of the other dangers. Out on the ice, Raven can get cold. Sick. She can run out of food. Be attacked by predators. And there’s not a damn thing we can do for most of it. Sure, we can watch over her every night, but during the day, she’s on her own. We have to trust that she’s capable of taking care of herself.
The hours tick by. Finally, at five in the morning, I see something moving on my screen. The instant I understand what’s happening, I swear out loud. I’ve made a crucial mistake. “Zimmer’s sent a skimmer, not a chopper. They’re almost at Raven’s campsite.”
Nero's already slathering sunblock on his skin. He jumps into the skimmer. “Let's go.”
I can only hope we’re not too late.
22
Raven
Boarus 4
Sunrise, TenthDay of FourthMonth
The attack happens at daybreak.
I wake up but can’t bring myself to get out of my warm sleeping bag. The wind whistles around my tent, and I feel very alone. One day without Saber, Nero, and Zeke, and I’m already missing their cheerful banter. Not good. Not good at all.
I could look them up in Starra. Maybe we’ll hang out in the capital, drinking glasses of slenti. Maybe I’ll make a meal, and the vampires will come over for dinner, and they’ll linger.
Maybe we’ll all end up in bed together…
You’re human. They’re vampires. Vampires don’t need food. They need blood.
Come to think of it, why have they never tried drinking from me?
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear the skimmer until its headlights illuminate my tent. I scramble madly to get out of sight, but it’s too late. Bodies leap out of the skimmer and surround me in every direction.
