“Thanks,” I say, trying not to look at her own pegasus who is frozen still behind her, watching me with a subtlety that’s hard to pinpoint unless you know to expect it.
Our pegasei stand around us, attached to the long radiant cords and containment harnesses which we constantly have to keep in our hands, to prevent their escape. That’s the one logistical problem, as far as all Contenders are concerned—what are we supposed to do with the pegasei tonight as we sleep? There are almost no trees on the island and, besides, no one wants to risk tying their pegasus to a tree and having it disappear in the night.
Chihar wraps the end loop of his cord around his arm and wrist, and lies down at the feet of his pegasus. This ends up to be the way we all handle it—cords tied securely around one hand, leg, or other body part. A few of us stay awake on guard duty, keeping a lookout for potential hostiles and pegasei thieves.
Of course I’m the only one who knows better. Arion tells me the pegasei have no immediate plans to escape now, and I believe it.
After Midnight Ghost Time I finish my turn doing guard duty and lie down on the ground, closing my eyes, and still “hearing” the sensory data stream deep in my forehead.
Breathe and let go, Arion tells me. You must sleep.
“How can I?” I moan inside my mind. “I’ve got the L.A. County highway system rush hour going on in my head. . . .”
Sleep is when you yourself become data.
Arion’s voice deepens and calms me. When you sleep, you let go, and you are pulled back in through the link—the same opening that leads to the rest of the universe.
“Huh? What do you mean? How?”
You know how to do it naturally. You have been doing it all your life every time you sleep. The only difference is, now you are consciously aware of it . . . aware of the link inside you.
The universe is waiting for you as it always does.
Let go and become data.
I wake up from the craziest jumble of dreams . . . just before dawn on the morning of day four of Stage Four of the Games of the Atlantis Grail.
Okay, I’ve just had this insane nightmare that my pegasus is a sentient being and it was talking to me yesterday as we trained—
Oh, no. . . .
It’s all real.
I open my eyes and see the lightening sky. At the same time, I feel the stirring in my forehead, the snapping back of an open thought tunnel.
And then just like that, all at once, I sense Arion and more than a hundred other alien life forms, their presences nearby.
I groan and sit up, staring at the white pegasus standing calmly five feet away, attached to my arm by the cord. Its eyes are shut in a semblance of sleep.
You are awake, Arion says in my mind.
Oh, crap. That last thought was me.
I understand, Gwen Lark. It is difficult for you now. . . . This new reality overwhelms you.
In reply I just groan and cover my face, then start breathing regularly so as not to hyperventilate.
When I look up, Kateb is staring down at me. “Nefero eos, Imperial Lady Gwen. Today is the big day. Are you all right?”
I nod, mumble something, and avoid looking at my pegasus. Or at Kateb’s pegasus.
The others on my team start waking up too. All around the cove, the night illumination is still on, and the gaudy audience platform tiers are blazing with light.
“You know what’s nuts?” I say to Brie as I stand up, stomping my feet to get the circulation going. “Those people up there, the Games audience. They could be sleeping at home in their beds right now. Instead, they’re here, watching us sleep.”
“Sleep and die,” Brie says. “Never forget that last part. It’s why we’re all here.”
Yet again, I try not to look at my pegasus because of what my teammates might see in my eyes. What’s more, I try not to “think” at it, to not engage it with my memories. . . .
But this time it’s because, in that moment—on behalf of all of us humans—I’m ashamed.
The Triathlon Race is scheduled to begin at seventh hour of Ra. As the morning sky grows bright, we gather in the final moments of sixth hour to wait for our instructions.
Everyone’s on pins and needles. We’ve answered calls of nature, eaten and drunk the last of our meal rations and water from yesterday, organized our equipment, and readied weapons. And now we’re milling around in our groups, looking at each other seriously while our pegasei stand witness to us.
If only the others knew what I now know.
No, stop. . . .
This is the grim reality—our teammates are not going to be on our side for much longer. Alliances were always intended to be temporary. In minutes the Taboo Rule prohibiting all weapons use will be lifted, and it’ll be each Contender pitted against all others in a long-distance life-and-death race—at least in theory.
I look at the faces of my teammates. There’s so much intense history now, between so many of us.
Chihar gives me a weary, calm smile. “It’s okay,” it seems to say.
I smile back and nod.
The transparent boxes in the sky fill with audience noise. Already the commentators are inciting speculation and excitement, chattering about us, our scores, our strengths and weaknesses.
At last we hear the solemn sound of bells ringing three times. Their pure tone echoes across the cove of Benben Island, indicating the seventh hour of Ra.
And then the Games official voice speaks loudly: “Contenders! Welcome to the Triathlon Race of Stage Four of the Atlantis Grail! The Games are Forever!”
The audience roars.
“As of this moment, one hundred and forty-seven of you remain. In this final event of the Games you will swim, fly, and run. As soon as the Game Zone walls open, you may begin the Race,” the official says.
“Your way will be marked clearly by four-color beacons. Stay within the area marked by the beacons. They will guide you across the ocean to the designated location on the shore, then through the air to the top of the Great Nacarat Plateau. You must ride along the plateau until you cross the Finish Line marked by a four-color light stripe along the ground. If you do not complete the race, you will be disqualified. The Yellow Grail waits for you on a pedestal at the end. The first Contender to cross the light stripe and pick up the Grail, will Win Stage Four!”
There is a pause and suddenly we notice the levitating audience platforms overhead start to move in slow motion toward the mouth of the cove where the transparent ocean wall still encloses the Game Zone. It occurs to me they will likely be moving along the route to watch us throughout the race.
“Contenders! Prepare your pegasei for the aquatic form and line up along the shore. When you hear the sound of drums, you will transform, enter the water, and wait for the wall to be lowered. When the start alarm sounds, you will begin the Race—”
As the official speaks we glance at each other, seeing in each of us intense, desperate eyes. Our pegasei stand next to us, solemn and silent.
My heartbeat speeds up with nerves as I mind-speak to Arion, “It’s almost time . . . please remember, first the delphit shape, then the Earth hawk, then this classic one.”
I remember and will be ready to receive your images. . . . And now it is your turn. Remember, no matter how much I might want to assist you or influence the outcome, I cannot help or interfere with your efforts in this race. There can be no bias. None of us will interfere with the efforts of our riders or others. It is our way, and it is our disguise.
I nod silently, as though to myself. “Yes, I get that. And I don’t expect it of you. You have my immense gratitude as it is—just for letting me ride your physical form. I will direct you with my mind as well as I can and hope for the best. . . .”
Meanwhile the Games official continues speaking.
“Additional instructions! You must maintain three and only three shapes for the duration of the three zones. Transform promptly and immediately at each zone transition. Choose wisely—once your
pegasus transforms into a specific living shape, that choice of animal is fixed and may not be changed in that zone portion of the Race. Do not forget—you must use the required Gebi pegasus form for at least one of the three zones. Finally, the Taboo Rule prohibiting the use of all weapons is lifted as soon as you exit the cove. Once you are outside, you are permitted to use any and all weapons throughout the Race.”
The official pauses again.
“Contenders! Your time begins now!”
In that instant, amplified like thunder, a slow pounding beat of drums starts to echo throughout the cove of Benben Island.
Chapter 88
At once, we spring into action.
On my left, Brie and her pegasus plunge into the water and the pegasus transforms into a dolphin as Brie leaps onto its back. On the other side of her, Chihar splashes forward as quickly as he can and carefully steadies himself astride a delphit, the slightly larger Atlantean version, grasping its fin.
To my right, wiry Zaap is already far ahead in the water, riding a sleek delphit many feet in front of us. Kateb, Kokayi, and Lolu follow on their own aquatic animals, all delphit.
I run into the surf with Arion who transforms into his dolphin form. . . . The sleek grey shape is now so familiar to me, as I straddle the marine creature’s body and get a solid grip on one of the fins. Meanwhile my legs and thighs press tightly around its flanks, anchoring me in my seat.
All around us the cove fills with splashing as Contenders and their transforming pegasei take up space in the water. I see Thalassa, Deneb Gratu, Hedj Kukakit, and other power players surrounded by their teams, astride various sha and delphit.
We wait, creature bodies undulating as we circle in place, listening to the pounding drums.
The transparent ocean wall slowly lowers itself. . . .
“Hey, Lark!”
I turn my head to see Brie looking at me with a mischievous, slightly crooked smile. “It’s been a ‘thing’ knowing yah! Ready or not, here we come!”
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “Good luck, Walton!”
And then I glance around at all my teammates, my allies, who’ve been with me through so much. “Good luck to all of you! May you ride to win!” I exclaim, raising my hand in a proper salute, thumb to lips, fingertips to forehead.
Kateb nods to me, returning the gesture, and the corners of his lips rise lightly. “It has been an honor, Imperial Lady Gwen. May you ride to win!”
“Imperial Lady . . .” Lolu echoes him with an earnest look in her eyes.
“Luck and fortune, and steady winds, amrevet,” Kokayi exclaims from astride his rainbow delphit, sending me a wide grin.
“Imperial Lady, an honor indeed,” Chihar says with his typical friendly calm. “Hold on well and stay seated!”
Zaap just salutes and nods, but I can see a shadow of a smile on his young solemn face before he returns his loving attention to his delphit.
The top of the transparent wall disappears underwater.
The drumbeat stops.
Silence. . . .
Then comes the starting blast of the siren.
We burst forward, leaning into our swimming pegasei, as we streak toward the mouth of the cove.
There’s churning foam and a chaos of sleek shapes and sharp fins cutting through the water all around me. . . . I force myself to ignore it as I focus on my own pegasus-dolphin and its undulating rhythmic motion.
We soar through the water, and in a heartbeat we emerge beyond the cove into the open ocean, and into a “road” of regularly spaced light beacons hovering above the waves.
The moment we do, there’s a barrage of shots being fired.
Zing, zing, zing! The gunfire comes from all directions around us. Fiery projectiles strike the water and their intended targets. I hear screams as several Contenders are hit in just those first few seconds.
I lean in even closer to the dolphin body, keeping my head down, while the lesser islands of the Akhet archipelago flash by, nothing but rocks beaten by crashing surf. . . .
The rainbow-colored light beacons form a wide pathway through the water, receding and narrowing into a pinpoint at the horizon. Beyond it in the distance are the vague shapes of the continent, our destination.
I focus on keeping my grip, holding on for dear life as the dolphin beneath me gradually gains speed in open water. My eyes are narrowed against the salty spray and Hel’s painful sun glare, but I still manage to make out the dots and specks of floating vessels scattered in the ocean on both sides of our beacon-marked race course.
The ships are audience barges. And many of the transparent tier boxes are docking with them, while others yet continue to fly through the air, following the path of our race from above.
In the next few minutes we end up spread out far and wide along the ocean course, as some of the Contenders surge far ahead of others, widening the distances between us. At the same time others fall back, the aquatic forms of their pegasei moving slower, either due to the physics of the animal itself or the efforts of the rider.
I admit I’m one of the slower ones. My primary goal is to hold on and not lose my grip. I watch most of my teammates pull ahead of me, riding their aquatic animals with confidence. We have many miles to go before we reach the shore, so I’m not too concerned yet.
I feel the steady power of the dolphin body under me, the whirling water and the pale foam. . . .
Far ahead I see Contenders firing at each other, and some of them being hit. They falter and fall, and their bodies float then submerge slowly. . . . As I approach the spots where their deaths happened I can still see the sinking corpses through the shimmering translucent water . . . and the rings of wavelets and the rising bubbles.
Meanwhile, their pegasei are now free to roam, but they still remain trapped within their physical shapes by the radiant quantum containment harnesses and cords. They continue to swim rapidly alongside the rest of us, and I can feel their common memories of trauma shared with the humans in their last painful moments, and hear their sorrowful thoughts.
No, don’t think of them, not now. . . . Arion tells me. Focus on what you must do.
And we continue to fly through the water. We probably look like a fleet of speedboats from above. . . .
If I strain and look into the distance I can make out individual Contenders. Not surprisingly, Zaap is one of the handful in the lead as he flies forward with incredible speed upon his delphit. Not too far behind him I see Leetana Chipuo and then Thalassa, her blue hair whipping in the wind, riding a silver-gray sha. Then, other familiar shapes—possibly Hedj Kukkait with his unmistakable white hair, his team Vocalist Sofia Veforoi on a dark sha, and Kokayi with his rainbow delphit.
Just behind the vanguard group, in the second group, Deneb Gratu rides a great dark sha. Then there’s another of my teammates—Brie, of all people, who’s apparently an excellent rider—with Kateb following closely, and a number of other Contenders I don’t know, though some of them could be Thalassa’s or Deneb’s crew. . . . I’m almost certain one of them is Thalassa’s team Vocalist Fawzi Boto.
Closer to where I am in the middle of the course is Lolu, and then Chihar. Of all the seven people left on my team of allies, I bring up the rear. And if I glance behind, there’s only a small handful of Contenders going slower than me. . . .
The miles fly by quickly. If I were to make a guess, the distance we’re swimming is at least twenty nautical miles, but I could be wrong. It feels both too fast and eternally endless. . . .
The general ocean silence is undermined by regular zing-zing sounds of gunfire. The projectiles come often, mixed with the whistling wind and occasional screams of the wounded as they fall, taken out of the Race. I continue to keep my head down, wincing every time something flies by, but so far I’ve been lucky.
What’s worse, my clenched, cold, wet fingers are numb from maintaining their death grip on the dolphin body and keeping the cord loops of the harness from slipping off where I wound them around my arm.
<
br /> “The harness doesn’t matter, does it?” I think-say to Arion. “I should just let it fall away. . . .”
You could. And no, I would not escape—as well you know, Arion replies. And yet, you must maintain the semblance of keeping me bound. So the harness needs to stay in place.
“Okay. . . .”
Another few minutes, and we’re more than halfway to the shore. The continent rises before us, a rocky beach shoreline and low cliffs. A row of rainbow beacons marks the location on the strip of beach where we must land and then have our pegasei immediately transform into aerial shapes and continue the second portion of the Race by flying.
Aggressive volleys of gunfire come from up ahead. The fire exchanges happen constantly now, as Contenders are determined to eliminate their competition. I notice that Chihar has been hit because he’s slowing down just ahead of me in the water.
Oh, no!
At once my pulse races with worry on his behalf. As I come upon him I notice that he’s busy tying off his arm, while his delphit has wisely slowed down its pace to help Chihar stay seated.
“Chihar!” I call out, falling in place at his side as our pegasei swim together. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine . . . only a scratch!” Chihar exclaims, as he leans forward to keep his position on the delphit. Nodding to me he shows me a bloodied wrist. “Just rearranging my grip so that I can keep balance. There! Now, go!”
I nod back at him. . . .
And in seconds Chihar and I speed up again, trying to catch the others.
By now the land mass is almost upon us.
I glance far ahead and notice that Thalassa is still third in the Race. She’s firing a gun with determination, keeping clear the path behind her, and then aiming for the two figures just ahead of her.
So far, both Leetana and Zaap, two Animal Handlers, have been tantalizingly out of reach of everyone else, flying like demons through the water, neck and neck, vying for first and second place. Wow, I think, Zaap could really win this Race! He’s that good! And for some reason the thought brings a smile to my face.
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