In that moment, Brie bursts out laughing. She slaps her side and shakes with silent hysterical paroxysms, unable to catch her breath for several moments. Then she takes a deep breath and runs her fingers through her scalp and the back of her messy ponytail. “Perfect,” she says. “This is great.”
But for some reason I am feeling optimistic. Or, at least I feel the need to downplay this latest nightmare before us. “Not sure how they have the fire going in the middle of the water but . . . seems to me, we could simply pass though it quickly enough and not get burned?”
“The wall of fire is thick,” Lolu says. “According to my surveyor, it’s as wide as a room. I don’t think you can swim across so much fire.”
I shake my head. “Well, what about swimming under it? Is the fire below the water too? That would be impossible.”
“I don’t know,” Lolu replies. “I only surveyed it from the air above.”
“Easy answer—we swim up to it and look,” Tuar says.
Zaap nods. “Makes sense.”
So we get into the water which washes the last of the red choonu residue from us. And we swim toward the wall of fire.
Even as we get within a few feet of the flames, the fierce heat and the raining sparks fill the air before us, making it warp like an oven. The sparks hiss as they make contact with the water, and vapor rises, mingling with smoke. . . .
“I’ll look underwater,” Kokayi says. He does an elegant flip worthy of a native ocean creature and disappears beneath the surface.
We wait, treading water and holding on to our floating equipment bags like life preservers.
A few seconds later, Kokayi returns with a splash. After catching his breath, he tells us the good and the bad news.
The good news—the wall of fire definitely ends at water level. It originates from a series of round, fuel-burning reservoirs that are planted at regular short intervals along a wide grid, connected by means of slim pipes. The bad news—the fire grid spans at least twenty feet underwater.
“In other words, all bad news,” Brie sputters while treading water with some effort. “We can’t use our last daily hover option. And we can’t do that thing where we only maintain contact with the water because there’s that nasty long interruption in the form of fire. So we have to swim this one.”
“We just need to hold our breath and swim the distance,” Kokayi replies. “It can be done.”
“Yes, it can,” I say in a confident voice, looking around at my teammates. Even as I say it, my mind is jumping in summersaults of panic. Because, although I can swim a stretch of a few feet underwater, I have never lasted very long before coming up for desperate breath. To be honest, holding my breath for twenty feet is about the extent of my lungs’ ability, and very likely it’s more than I can handle. . . .
“There is another problem,” Chihar says. “Our equipment bags float. It will be difficult to swim submerged while holding on to them.”
“So we send them ahead of us, hovering over the fire wall,” I say.
Chihar watches me with a strange thoughtful look as I sing a voice command to make my bag rise and scale the wall of fire. He then follows my lead, as do the others. Our bags pass over the flames and wait for us on the other side.
“I don’t know if I can swim that far underwater,” Lolu announces with a desperate look of fear.
“I am almost certain I cannot,” Chihar replies.
I slow down my splashing and stare at them with alarm.
“So what do we do, then?” Kateb says, treading water with confident slow movements.
I think. “We could swim in pairs, one strong swimmer with one who is not.”
“Even better, use a cord to attach two people together, so that the better swimmer can pull the other if needed,” Zaap says, moving his hands quickly to stay afloat.
“Heh,” Brie snorts, spitting water. “All our equipment is over there, across the fire. Good going, Lark. Thinking ahead, are we. . . ?”
“Seriously, Walton, shut up!” I turn to glare at her. Then I say to the others, “We hold on to the other person’s clothing.”
“That’s a great way to drown,” Brie persists. “One person panics and pulls the better swimmer down with them. . . .”
Brie has a point.
I freeze. . . . At this moment I’m at a serious loss. I’m tired from being in the water for so long, unable to think clearly. Just—damn overwhelmed with all of this . . . this . . . whatever it is. . . .
“We need to get moving soon,” Tuar reminds us. “Before everyone is too tired from treading water.”
But I glance at Chihar and Lolu and see something in their eyes that gives me pause.
If we swim now, they won’t make it.
I focus and think. Ideas churn quickly while my mind races desperately. Crazy, ridiculous ideas come to mind. What if . . . everyone pulls out their shoelaces to make a very long rope? Or . . . maybe I can levitate the whole fire grid?
I examine the wall of fire to assess this insane option. However, it’s obvious that no portions of the pipes and reservoirs are exposed to air, making it impossible to use a voice command—and that’s assuming the pipes are made of orichalcum. Not to mention, the grid is huge. It probably circles the entire water ring like a donut. Maybe I’m missing something?
“Lark!” Brie calls out. “We need to swim now!”
That’s when I make up my mind.
“No,” I say grimly. “We can’t . . . not like this. We need a plan. We go back and figure it out.”
Brie cusses—while Chihar and Lolu appear relieved—but no one protests this option.
And so, with a deep breath I turn around and start freestyling back to the previous land ring shore.
Once we’re back on land ring eight, we call our equipment bags back to us. My teammates mill around or settle down to think.
I pace in angry uncertainty, my shoes squishing with liquid. “What, what . . . what?” I mutter. “There has to be a good solution . . . what is it?”
Lolu takes out a coiled spool of cord from her bag and shows it to me. I glance at it, continuing to pace.
“Okay,” I reason out loud. “The Games obstacles and ordeals are tough but not impossible. Otherwise no one would make it . . . no one would win. . . .”
Chihar looks up at me from his slumped position on the floor. “Maybe that’s the point,” he says. “You already have the basic solution—each person must swim underwater. Those who cannot, will not make it. The Games select the best Contenders. The underwater swim is doable for the strong swimmers.”
I shake my head. “No, that would mean that you and Lolu—”
“We will not continue,” Chihar says softly.
I frown, unable to face the dying look in his eyes. Meanwhile I glance at Lolu and she looks frightened—no, terrified.
“No,” I say again, stubbornly. “That’s not an option.”
And in my mind the familiar mantra returns: No, I do not accept it.
Chihar shrugs, appearing composed. “If there’s a good solution, by all means, I would appreciate knowing it. But at this point, I am ready to concede. . . .”
My teammates look at him and at one another. A variety of grim, sorrowful expressions pass along their faces. Doubt, sympathy, stoic acceptance.
“I understand,” Kateb says to Chihar. “You came this far with endurance and courage. Now you either die trying or self-disqualify. Either choice is valid.”
“But only one choice is honorable,” Chihar replies, avoiding our eyes and looking out at the lapping water and the wall of fire.
Tuar nods, his face solemn.
“No!” I say again.
Chihar raises his face to me. “Imperial Lady Gwen, if you have any ideas, I am willing to listen.”
And Lolu stares at me with her great big eyes filled with panic.
I feel a painful twinge in my chest as I’m yet again reminded of my sister Gracie.
While all this is happening insid
e my head, Chihar reaches within his uniform inner pocket and takes out his Contender token. He turns it this way and that, drops it on his palm. . . . It’s painfully clear that once he presses the recessed button, he will be disqualified.
From its zenith position Hel beats down fiercely at us while the cool ocean wind whips at our faces. In the distance the Games audience chants “De-neb! De-neb!” and “Tha-las-sa! Tha-las-sa!”
“Do it,” Zaap says, his face like a rock.
“Wait . . .” I say, looking at the Scientist. “Chihar, why are you in the Games? Might as well tell us now. You’ve come so far, for what? There has to be a good reason, right?”
“There is.” Chihar pauses, closing his hand around the token without pressing it.
I step closer and then sit down before him, folding my legs under me. “Tell me.”
“My home city Tatenen in the Western Xeneret Province makes a habit of denying basic facts of science and teaches ignorant illiterate nonsense to their children,” Chihar says with a mixture of outrage and pride, speaking louder and more powerfully than I’ve ever heard him. “I am going to buy the Committee of Education.”
I stare at him in surprise. “Buy? What exactly does that mean?”
“Only citizens may sit on the Committee. And all voting seats are purchased by the highest bidder. The greater the payment, the more votes are assigned to that seat, and the more influence that member has,” Chihar continues in a passionate voice, so unlike his usual mild-mannered tone. “Yes, it is despicable. But it is how things are currently done—the richest citizens decide what knowledge is to be shared with the public. Young Tatenen minds are entirely at their mercy. . . . So I must first become a citizen—become one of them—before I can initiate the process of change. As a citizen I will finally be allowed to acquire a seat—and not just any seat but the majority director seat—and I will guide the curriculum. This will affect numerous schools, thousands of students. . . . Science will be taught properly. And so will the Arts. Truth and reality will no longer be twisted to please prejudice and dark financial interests. And Tatenen will no longer hold the bottom place for institutional education and academic achievement in Atlantida. Making this happen—it is the culmination of my life’s work as an Instructor.”
Chihar finishes and looks around at all of us. His expression is alive and at the same time on the verge of despair.
“Thank you for sharing all this, Chihar—what an admirable goal and a powerful reason for being in the Games,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “Maybe it’s enough of a reason for you to continue. I think—I know how to get you safely across underwater. In fact, we almost had it when we were up there and sent our bags away.”
And I explain my plan. “First, remember that all our bags float, preventing us from submerging, so they would have to be sent ahead, hovering over the wall. . . . But, I’ll get to that. Now—we’ll need our cords, and we’ll basically make a necklace of beads—where beads are people.”
“Huh?” Brie says, angling her head at me. Chihar, Lolu, and the others watch me silently.
I rub my forehead and restate my weird idea in different words. “It’s like this—we swim up to the fire wall and line up. The first person will be the strongest swimmer—Kokayi. He voice-commands his equipment bag to fly over the fire wall and stop on the other side and wait for him. Then he takes one end of the long cord and attaches it to himself, while the next person in line holds the other end—let’s say, Chihar. Now, Chihar also has his own, second cord, one end of which he attaches to himself, and the other end he gives to the third person in line, Brie. And so on. . . .”
“Okay,” Brie says, frowning. “So Chihar’s a bead, I’m a bead, blah, blah, blah.”
I nod. “Now, Kokayi swims underwater with the cord. Once he surfaces on the other side, he takes his hovering equipment bag and attaches his end of the cord to it. He calls out to make sure Chihar is ready to start swimming. Chihar first sends his own bag levitating over the fire. Then Chihar calls out he’s ready. Kokayi voice-commands the first bag (his own) to rise and fly toward the next land ring. Kokayi’s bag flies, pulling Chihar quickly underwater—all he has to do is hold on and hold his breath, without making much effort to swim. Kokayi waits to make sure Chihar rises to the surface, then swims forward as normal. Meanwhile, Chihar lets go of the first cord so that Kokayi’s bag continues without him. Now he takes his own bag that’s been waiting for him, ties his other cord to it, and calls out to Brie to make sure she is ready. She sends over her own bag and says yes. He commands his bag to fly, pulling Brie, and the whole process repeats. Kind of like an assembly line.”
Brie raises one brow and shakes her head at me. Then she whistles. “Holy guacamole. . . . You know, Lark, I can just imagine your life before all this asteroid hell came about. Unlike normal people, you sat alone late at night dreaming up this kind of insane junk. Probably even drew diagrams. . . . Am I right?”
“You’re right,” I reply in a bland voice without rising to the provocation.
Brie rolls her eyes at me.
I ignore her and face the others. “Does my plan make sense to you?”
“Yes,” Lolu answers immediately. “One thing, though. When the bag pulls you under, it’s better that you are already submerged deep underwater and away from the edge of the fire wall. Otherwise you’ll get dragged right into the fire.”
“Good point,” I say. “Anything else?”
“What about the escaping bags?” Zaap says. “Everyone crosses, one at a time, and lets go of the cord but the bags continue moving. They can end up far away while the owners are still swimming. We cannot afford to lose our equipment.”
“We won’t.” I pause to think. “I’ll go second. That way I’ll be on the shore as all the bags come flying in. As a Vocalist I’ll handle them, if needed.”
“Another suggestion,” Chihar says. “Apologies in undermining your bead necklace analogy, Imperial Lady Gwen. But it would make better sense to simply have multiple short assembly lines, as you call them. The three strongest swimmers—” and he points at Kokayi, Tuar, and Kateb, “will swim first, simultaneously, followed by two or three people in the manner as you describe. This way the whole team crosses faster.”
Admittedly, it takes us another few minutes to iron out the details of this oddball process. And then we swim for it.
The whole thing ends up being both easier and more complicated than expected. To be safe, I submerge next to Chihar, helping him stay deep enough during those first few seconds. . . . I watch as he starts getting pulled by the bag, then I come up for air. Once he’s successfully on the other side, I go next, choosing to be dragged along and not test the limits of my lung capacity.
The feeling of being swept along underwater while holding on to the cord loop is a panic-inducing rush. . . . I’m definitely glad when it’s over as I surface, gasping for breath. As I do, I see Lolu also surface a few meters down the line as she gets pulled along by the other assembly line. Lolu flounders above water, coughing and choking, because she’s managed to inhale and swallow some of it. But what matters is, she’s made it across.
Once we reach land ring nine, I make sure everyone’s equipment bags haven’t strayed too far. And then we inhale deep breaths of crisp ocean wind to prepare ourselves for what lies next.
Only two more mysterious water rings remain for us to cross before we reach the Island of the Green Grail at the center of the Game Zone.
And the color of this next water ring is an ugly chemical yellow—with a hint of neon lime.
Chapter 77
As we look over the sickly yellow surface of water ring nine, it’s almost certain that, whatever this stuff is, it’s not something we want to touch, much less swim in.
Chihar squats at the edge, careful to stay far enough away from the splashing waves until he knows the nature of this yellow stuff. He takes a small stick gadget and lowers it in the water. A few seconds later he removes it and examines the readi
ngs.
“This is water-diluted acid,” he says. “You call it vitriol, I believe—sulfuric acid. We call it xolapei.”
“How bad is it?” I say, coming closer to look at the condition of the gadget that was just dunked in the acid. It doesn’t appear badly corroded, but the metallic shine is gone, replaced with a dull matte finish.
Brie stands behind me and looks over my shoulder. “Let’s put it this way—if I were to fall in an industrial vat of this stuff would I suddenly acquire special abilities that would compel me to fight crime while wearing tights?”
I turn around. “You don’t need acid for that, Brie. You just need tights.”
“Can I borrow yours?” says the annoying girl with purple hair, raising one sarcastic eyebrow.
Chihar ignores our pointless exchange and answers the question. “The concentration is not that high, so it is only moderately harmful. However, I don’t recommend swimming in it.”
“Then we simply fly over it,” Lolu says. “And since we have to maintain contact with it at all times, we drag the ends of our cords though this evil xolapei water.”
I nod with tired resolve. “Good plan.”
And so, in a matter of minutes, we easily cross the acid-filled water ring nine and step on the shore of land ring ten.
That’s when things become complicated.
The tenth and final water ring surrounds the Green Grail Island—a disk of land only ten meters in diameter. As we stand on land ring ten, looking inward at the expanse, we can see that the island is presently occupied.
The tiny island is a perfectly flat circle. The Green Grail supposedly stands in the very center, probably on a pedestal. But we can’t see any of it because of the many Contenders crowding it. From this distance it’s unclear which team this is. . . . But we can see Reds, Blues, and Greens, with their backs turned away from us. They’re all preoccupied with whatever’s at the center. There are so many of them that there’s not enough room for anyone else.
So, even if we wanted to start crossing now, it would be a very bad idea.
Win Page 87
