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They’d done it! They’d saved Dirk!
Arielle’s relief was supplanted by the pain in her side. She took slow, shallow breaths, avoiding movement. She longed to get up, to see Dirk freed from his chains, but the beatings had taken their toll on her.
“Arielle, are you okay?” Gavie appeared behind her, his large hands gripping her shoulders and lifting.
She cried out.
He let go. “What’s wrong?”
“My... ribs,” she gasped. “Pretty sure... they’re broken... uhhh.”
“Zume, get the doctor,” Bayru ordered.
The crowd’s celebration quieted.
“What’s going on?” Arielle raised her head; even that little movement sent a shot of pain through her chest.
High on the wall near Dirk, Rassa gazed over the crowd. “The judges have ruled the last score occurred after the sounding of the horntets. It does not count.”
“What? No!” Arielle couldn’t believe it.
“That’s a lie,” Bayru protested.
“Velly scored.” Gavie pointed at the ring at the far end of the field, as if he could see a replay.
“Now that K’inn’s new vessel is chosen, we will proceed with the sacrifice,” Rassa announced. Cheers erupted, but also plenty of boos. Perhaps not everyone in the crowd agreed with the sacrifice or Rassa cheating?
Arielle rolled onto her side, ignoring the pain. Guards led Dirk to an altar, where they forced him to his knees and chained his hands to posts on either side. Rassa sneered.
“We scored!” Arielle yelled. “We won. We saved him.” The crowd drowned out her words, not that Rassa cared. He had broken his word, and Dirk would pay the price.
A new pain filled her chest, one more distressing than the broken ribs.
She focused on Gavie. “Help me up!”
He wrapped an arm around her, ducked a head under one of her arms and lifted. She cried out, vision blurring as she gasped through the pain. She leaned against him for support to remain upright.
“We have to save Dirk.” She took a step forward, but Gavie pulled her back.
Bayru, her expression a mixture of pain and pity, also moved to block her. “There’s nothing we can do. We can’t fight the guards alone.”
Arielle yanked free of Gavie’s grip. A new flare of pain dropped her to her knees. Moaning, she struggled to her feet. After everything, she’d still failed.
Dirk raised his head, and his eyes found hers. He smiled faintly, as if to let her know this wasn’t her fault.
“No! I won’t let Rassa kill him!” She shoved past her teammates, staggering toward Rassa.
“Hear us K’inn, mover of suns,” Rassa shouted, voice amplified. “We offer thanks for another year of light.”
“Will K’inn honor lies and deception?” Arielle pointed an accusatory finger at Rassa. Some in the crowd watched her, but most remained focused on Rassa, unable to hear her challenge.
An Azzaro woman, dressed in red for T’amm, streaked across the field toward Arielle. At first Arielle feared the Azzaro would attack her for protesting, but the woman held out a bluish metallic orb in one hand.
“Speak,” the Azzaro prompted.
Arielle stared at the orb, confused.
“Expose Rassa’s lies. They will hear you.” The Azzaro raised the orb toward Arielle’s mouth.
“Will you let this deceiver make a mockery of your ritual?” Her voice boomed, making her wince. She held firm, not wanting to show weakness. “All of you witnessed the Lusus. We won, and yet Rassa subverts it. Is K’inn the god of deceit and treachery?”
“Seize the heretic!” Rassa shrieked. “She would have us fail K’inn and lose his sun.”
A few guards headed for her, but more than a dozen Azzaros in red costumes raced onto the field and formed a circle around her. They braced for a fight.
The support emboldened Arielle. “What value is the Lusus if they rig the outcome?” She pointed at Rassa. “Does he not dishonor K’inn?”
Boos filled the stadium. A larger contingent of guards closed in on Arielle and her defenders, but her teammates and even the opposing team joined the circle surrounding her. The male who had rammed her earlier approached.
“She speaks the truth.” He flexed thick muscles. “And anyone who wishes to silence her must face us first.”
Rassa snarled at her, eyes gleaming with fury. Then he seemed to regain control of himself. He turned and motioned to someone behind him. A guard wielding a scythe strode forward.
“Hear us K’inn, we offer this new body to keep you hale and strong for another year.” Rassa raised his hands to the sky.
A few more cheers erupted, but mores boos drowned them out.
“Don’t let him desecrate your ceremony!” Arielle cried, afraid Rassa would carry out the sacrifice before any stopped it.
The executioner hesitated. Other Azzaros, most dressed in red but some in orange as well, leapt from the stands to the wall and rushed to stop the executioner. Guards struggled to block them, but the crowd-turned-mob overwhelmed them, tossing them from the walls. The mob surrounded the executioner, wrestling the scythe from him and tossing him from the wall as well.
Rassa shouted that everything he’d done was in service of K’inn, that he had kept tradition going, but the mob shoved him away. One Azzaro freed Dirk from his chains, leading him from the altar.
Before Arielle could exult in her victory, the mob led the opposing team’s sacrifice candidate to the altar and chained him on his knees in Dirk’s place.
“The right sacrifice will be made,” an Azzaro shouted, hefting the scythe in the air. “K’inn will be honored.”
Bile rose in Arielle’s throat. What had she done? She hadn’t stopped the sacrifice, only changed the victim. These Azzaro were insane. All of them.
A rumble built up as a half dozen military aircraft flew in, circling overhead. The crowd in the stands scattered like cockroaches spooked by light.
Arielle and her teammates retreated as three aircraft, massive propellers rotating from a vertical to horizontal position, descended onto the field. Out poured armed Azzaro officers, followed by Instructor Zelo and Tiru.
Several dozen officers jumped out of the remaining aircraft in the sky, descending on cables. They all prepared for a fight, but the mob and guards fled. Relief washed through Arielle as the soldiers took Rassa into custody. He raged at them, but they ignored him.
Arielle pushed through her defenders, gritting her teeth against the pain, and pressed toward the steps to climb the wall to Dirk.
“Stop,” an officer warned, aiming his weapon at her before she got halfway.
“It’s okay.” Instructor Zelo crossed over to Arielle, shielding her. “She’s under my protection.”
The officer nodded and turned away.
“We got your warning,” Instructor Zelo said. “Though your device stopped working right after, which slowed us down for a while.”
“I thought-dictated the message right before Rassa forced me to hand over my wrist-comp. Then he threw it in a boiling vat.”
“When we couldn’t locate you, we determined where Dirk had arrived. From there, we discovered Rassa had taken him. Tiru guessed why Rassa wanted Dirk, but figuring out where he’d brought you was a struggle.” He grinned ruefully.
She threw her arms around him, sucking in air as her ribs protested. “It doesn’t matter. You found us.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling back with a concerned expression.
“Broken ribs I think, but I want to see Dirk.”
“Of course.” He took her elbow and led her to the steps.
One captured Azzaro in orange met her eyes and tapped three fingers against the underside of his jaw, an offensive gesture in their culture. Was he angry she’d won? Or because there would be no sacrifice? Anyone who welcomed a death like that, or prized it, would never make sense to her.
She climbed the narrow stone steps, gritting her teeth against the stabs of pain each movement caused. Instructor Zelo hovered behind her. At the top of the wall, he walked beside her, hands outstretched to catch her if she fell.
They passed by Rassa, arms chained behind his back, and two soldiers gripping him. They’d removed his mask.
“You’ve flouted K’inn’s will,” he snarled at them as they passed. “May darkness follow you everywhere you go.”
Instructor Zelo’s whole body went rigid, hands curling into fists. “The sun will rise same as every day before. K’inn never was. Your sacrifices are a waste of innocent life.”
Rassa lunged at them, face contorted into fury, but the guards hauled him back. “Others will save us,” Rassa growled. “You’ve stopped nothing.”
Instructor Zelo didn’t respond this time. Neither did Arielle. She was angry with him. Hated him even. Shouting at him would give her satisfaction. But he was beyond reason. Nothing she said would change his beliefs.
“I will kill you! Both of you!” Rassa screamed.
It made her skin crawl. All she’d done was fight to survive—to protect Dirk.
A hand on her arm made her jump.
“Ignore him,” Instructor Zelo said, pulling her forward. “He won’t bother you again. He’ll never get another chance.”
Arielle wondered if that was true. Then she spotted Dirk watching her, waiting, surrounded by officers. He looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot, his wrists bruised. She wanted to run to him.
“Dirk!”
An officer moved to stop her, but Instructor Zelo waved him off and the others let her through.
“Arielle...” Dirk pulled her into a hug. Her ribs complained at the contact, but she ignored it. To touch him again, alive and well, was worth any pain.
“Thank you. I thought I was dead,” he said, voice choking up. “I was so afraid that... that I’d never get the chance to—”
She grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to hers. Her pain evaporated, as did the world around them. She needed the reassurance that this ordeal was over. That they’d survived and would be okay.
When she let go, he grinned.
“Maybe I should get captured more often.”
She slapped his arm, her own smile fading. “Never joke about that. I almost lost you.”
The pain in her ribs flared again. She groaned, falling into him. He caught and held her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’ll be fine.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the strength in his arms. Strength she had come so close to losing forever.
From the field her teammates waved to her, and she waved back. Then she pulled free from Dirk and grabbed his hand. “Come on. I’ve got some new friends you need to meet.”