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“How does this game work?” Arielle asked Bayru as she donned her pads.
“You don’t know how to play?” Bayru’s eyes bulged.
“I never even heard of this game before Rassa made me play to save Dirk.” Arielle felt a surge of guilt, like she should’ve known all about a Lusus and how to play.
Bayru made a circle around her head with one finger, an Azzaro gesture that meant K’inn or T’amm help us. Arielle hoped Bayru meant T’amm.
“Get the ball through the ring at the opponents’ end,” Bayru replied. “And never touch the ball with your hands.”
The Yellows spread out in a rough semi-circle surrounding the masked official with the ball. Arielle’s team did as well.
“Tonight, we honor the twins and their race,” the official said. “In accordance with tradition, we begin the annual Lusus to choose a new host for K’inn. This sacrifice keeps him strong, that he may continue to race every day.”
The crowd cheered louder. Arielle shook her head in disbelief. How could this many people cheer on a sacrificial ceremony to a mythical god? Most Azzaros had progressed past such backward thinking. At least she’d thought so. But she supposed it was akin to flat-Earthers who refused to accept a round world despite clear evidence.
The official tossed the ball high in the air and sprinted off the field. The Yellows moved as one toward the ball, but stayed evenly spaced. Bayru and Zume moved toward the ball as well.
But as he neared a Yellow, Zume hesitated. The Yellow was much larger and stronger than Zume. The ball bounced off the Yellow’s extended arms as if he were playing volleyball. It angled right toward a waiting teammate. The Yellow stepped forward and rammed Zume with his shoulder, sending him flopping to the ground.
Arielle looked for a foul call, but the official was nowhere to be seen. Her gaze shifted to the murals adorning the walls, to the violence in them.
We’re on our own out here.
The Yellows pressed forward, passing the ball between them. Despite its size, the ball clearly weighed little. The Yellows struck the ball with forearms, legs, and hips, passing it to each other as they advanced it up the field.
Bayru and Zume hovered around the ball, but neither engaged the Yellows. They seemed to hope someone would drop it.
Arielle knew they couldn’t afford to hope for mistakes. She darted in and attempted to steal the ball. A forearm slammed into her chest. She stumbled backward.
The ball bounced off the ground, and the Yellow used her hip to knock it toward a teammate.
The Yellows closed in on Gavie, who had taken up a defensive position in front of the ring on the wall beneath Dirk. A Yellow hit the ball toward the ring. Gavie blocked the ball with both forearms, sending it rocketing back past everyone.
Arielle whooped, elated that the Yellows hadn’t scored. They stared wide-eyed at Gavie, shocked for a moment at how hard he’d hit the ball. Arielle hoped Rassa wore the same shocked expression.
Bayru took advantage of the moment to race after the ball.
“Go,” Arielle cheered, as she rushed after her teammate.
The Yellows regrouped and caught up with Bayru before she reached their goal. Arielle tried to help, but they blocked her out. One Yellow slide tackled Bayru, sending her crashing to the turf. Then the Yellows pushed the ball back up the field. This time, as they approached Gavie, a Yellow faked a shot. Gavie jumped to block it, but the ball bounced instead to another Yellow whose shot ricocheted off the goal.
Arielle smiled in relief. Her enthusiasm evaporated as the ball bounced to another Yellow. This one didn’t miss, sending the ball straight through the ring.
Fans in the stands erupted in cheers. Bright orange numbers glowed in the air above the field: 2-0.
Grimacing, Arielle glanced up at Dirk. He looked crestfallen. She gritted her teeth, determined not to give up for him.
As the teams lined up at midfield once more, the official rushed back out to the field. A Yellow had retrieved the ball after the score and she handed it to the official, who tossed it in the air to resume play.
Once more the Yellows took control of the ball and this time guided it in Velly’s direction. She backpedaled out of the way, avoiding the abuse the Yellows had been dishing out. While Arielle might normally have sympathized with Velly, Dirk couldn’t afford such timid play. As a Yellow bent to jump for the ball, Arielle swiped his legs out from under him, dropping him onto his back. Then she passed the ball to Zume before glaring at Velly, letting the Azzaro know she needed to step up and help. Velly returned a weak smile before averting her eyes and running up the field, still giving the Yellows a wide berth.
Meanwhile Bayru had run ahead of everyone. Zume passed the ball to her. Then the two of them raced to the ring, passing the ball back and forth. Their fluid movements and smooth passing surprised Arielle. The Yellows too, it seemed, because they gave chase too late this time. Zume made one last pass to Bayru, who knocked it through the ring to tie the score.
Arielle shouted for joy again, but her joy soured when she looked up at the chained Azzaro on the wall above the ring. He remained standing tall, chest puffed out, staring down like an akanna surveying his subjects. But his arrogance didn’t lessen her guilt at wanting to save Dirk’s life instead of his. No one deserved to die tonight in sacrifice to a false god, whether they welcomed it or not.
With the score tied once more, both sides increased their aggression. Bayru and Zume seemed to gain confidence from their score—Arielle had—and the trio harassed the Yellows. Not underestimating them anymore, the Yellows increased their physical attacks. Before long, Arielle’s ribs ached, and she had tweaked her left ankle during a fall. She did her best to play through it.
Two Yellows crisscrossed, with Bayru and Zume giving chase. Bayru’s full attention was on the Yellow she pursued. Taking advantage of the moment, the Yellow with the ball kicked it straight into Bayru’s face. Many in the crowd cheered as Bayru dropped hard, covering her face with her hands. For a second Arielle stared in shock before sprinting forward.
“Bayru, are you okay?” she asked, bending over the writhing girl on the ground. “Let me see it.”
Bayru withdrew her hands. Her right eye had already started to swell, the skin split at her cheekbone. Blood trickled from the cut, as well as from her nose.
Arielle groaned. “You need to get that looked at.” They couldn’t afford to play without Bayru, but she also couldn’t ask the Azzaro to risk significant blood loss on Dirk’s behalf.
“I’ll be fine in a moment.” Bayru wiped away blood from her upper lip and rolled onto her knees.
“Fine? That cut won’t stop bleeding on its own.”
“It’ll be fine.” Bayru pushed herself to her feet and glared at Arielle.
To Arielle’s surprise, the cut had already closed, leaving some blood on her cheek.
“How?”
“I took a shot of nanobots before the game,” Bayru responded. “Injuries happen in a Lusus. The nanobots are stitching up the wound. They can also help with breaks or fractures, though healing still takes a while. Let’s get back to it before they score again.”
The guard had mentioned nothing to Arielle about a nanobot shot. She guessed Rassa had ordered him not to mention it. Another way he’s rigged the deck against me.
Despite the Yellows’ best efforts, Gavie knocked away quite a few shots, and diverted others wide. One Yellow, heavily muscled himself, passed the ball to a teammate before bull rushing Gavie, who braced for the collision. At the last second, Gavie lunged forward and thumped the Yellow hard in the chest, sending him flying backward.
The Yellow lay in the grass, eyes wide, gasping for air. Gavie glared at him, then the others. Arielle wagered none of them would attempt to attack him again.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Surprised at the delayed reaction, Arielle looked around. While Gavie had defended himself, another Yellow had scored. Even when something good happened for them, it seemed to go bad.
And worse.
A shot from a Yellow brushed the top of Gavie’s outstretched hands. Bright orange letters appeared again, the score five to two. The Yellows had received an extra point.
Arielle gaped. How? Oh no, I forgot we can’t touch the ball with our hands.
A couple of drives later, she intercepted an errant pass and kicked it back the other way. She landed on a Yellow and pitched over, hitting the ground hard. Pain erupted through her ribcage. She struggled to her feet, gasping. Pain lanced through her core as if someone stabbed her repeatedly. She guessed she’d fractured a rib, if not a couple.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she refused to seek medical treatment and leave her team shorthanded. That would spell the end for Dirk for sure.
At least Bayru had scored off the play, cutting their deficit to one point. Despite the nanobots, her right eye had swollen shut. The Azzaro grinned anyway.
After that, Arielle struggled to remain aggressive. Every time a Yellow lunged at her, she shielded her ribs. She growled at herself for it, yet she couldn’t stop it either.
It was largely thanks to Gavie that they remained in the game at all. An immovable force, he kept the Yellows off balance and unable to score further. The most the rest of them seemed to accomplish was to annoy the Yellows, to keep them a little off balance. Although with the lead, the Yellows seemed content to control the ball and defend violently.
A half dozen Azzaros carrying horntets appeared on top of the wall on one side. Arielle turned to Bayru and pointed up at the instrument-carrying Azzaros.
“What are they doing?”
Around gasps for breath, Bayru answered. “They’re preparing to signal the end of the match. We’ve got somewhere around five minutes left.”
They had to act.
After Gavie blocked the ball, it bounced toward a Yellow. Before the ball reached him, Arielle rammed him from behind, sending him face first into the ground.
Desperate, she charged up the field, searching for Bayru or Zume—both guarded. A heavily muscled Yellow charged hard toward her. But Velly was open up the field.
Arielle passed the ball as the Yellow lowered his shoulder. Her battered ribs took the full force of the blow. She struck the ground. Flickering lights popped in her vision. She curled into a fetal position. She wished to pass out, die, anything to end the pain. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
A blare of horns rang out.
“Arielle, are you okay?” A hand touched her shoulder, and she flinched away.
“No,” she cried, afraid she’d get hit again.
“Arielle, it’s me. Bayru.” The Azzaro’s words brought her back to the present beyond her own pain.
“Did Velly get the ball? Did she score?”
She rolled onto her right side, shielding her broken left ribs, and opened her eyes. Bayru stood over her, expression concerned. Zume ran up to join them.
“We won!” he shouted, elated.
Arielle sighed and closed her eyes. Dirk would live!