We raced down the length of the arena in a thunder of hooves and rattling wheels. Aysulu bent her head against the wind, squinting into the dust. I could not hear the crowds over the noise, but I could just make out the spectators closest to the ground, gripping the rails and leaning out as far as they dared.
Pace by pace, our chariot was gaining ground. Jahan and Alaric traded blows ahead of us, their staffs knocking together with a force that could break bones. We slipped between the Lion and Wolf’s chariot and the wall and caught up to Jin and Heishiro.
Heishiro was weaponless. He held onto the chariot’s sideboard, leaning out to see around the bend in the track.
I set my javelin down, cupped one hand around my mouth, and shouted, “What happened to your sword?”
He looked up. “I broke it on that fool!” he shouted back, pointing to Ashoka.
The Ascended’s champions were in the lead. As we clattered down the arena’s other side, both we and the warriors from the Dragon Temple were coming closer, inch by inch. The clouds of fine sand dispersed somewhat as the crowd of chariots stretched out into a line.
Without warning, there was a terrible crash, and our chariot shuddered and swerved toward Jin’s. Aysulu pulled us back toward the stands, and the horses screamed in fear and surprise. I was thrown forward, narrowly avoiding crushing Aysulu against the crossbar. Two of my javelins flew from the chariot and landed in the dust.
I regained my footing and looked up just in time to see the Golden Road’s chariot careen past us in a shower of splinters. They had crashed into us once more, and this time, much more successfully. The ragged hole they had torn into our side had grown, and we were rapidly losing speed.
Another chariot tore past, and sent up such a cloud of dust that I could not identify who rode in it.
“What happened?” I asked. “Did we lose a wheel?”
Aysulu turned from the horses and looked over the side. “Not yet. I think there’s something stuck in it.”
I could feel the obstruction before I could see it; the carriage shook and came to a complete stop. Aysulu returned to soothing the horses, and I went to look.
A large shard of wood—from our chariot or the Golden Road’s, I wasn’t sure—had wedged itself between the spokes of our wheel. The wheel itself appeared to be intact, but it could not turn. Yet another chariot thundered by, showering us in dust. If I did not work quickly, the race would soon be lost.
I took my staff in both hands, and with it pushed at the shard. It was stuck tight.
“Hurry, Eske!” Aysulu said.
The shard would not move. Perhaps it would break. I placed my full weight behind the staff and struck down on the shard like a hammer. The shard split in two, and half fell to the ground. Another blow and the wheel was free.
Aysulu called to the horses, and we began to move again, faster and faster until the faces in the stands were an indistinguishable blur. The chariot was shaking more than usual, but we were back in the race.
We hurdled over the starting line and down the track toward the cluster of chariots. They were packed tightly together again, with the arena’s dust like thick smoke around them. Many had slowed to give their horses a chance to catch their breath. We had taken that chance early, and not by choice, and soon we closed in on the others.
Jahan of House Darela gave a mighty cry and hurled his staff across the track. The dust swirled in its wake as it flew. It struck the Golden Road’s chariot wheel and dented the wooden sideboard. The spokes of the wheel flew apart, and the rim collapsed, and the chariot collapsed and threw both its occupants into the empty sand at the center of the track.
“Did you see that?” I shouted over the din.
Aysulu hadn’t heard me. Her focus was on the track and the horses.
Once again, we found ourselves almost side by side with Jin and Heishiro. They were ahead of us still, carefully maneuvering their way up to the Divine Champions.
“Are you sure about this?” Jin shouted.
Heishiro did not answer. He climbed up onto the sideboard and leaped into the air.
He landed haphazardly inside Ashoka’s chariot. The driver shouted in alarm, and Ashoka stepped back against the opposite side and raised his staff. Heishiro stood up, grasped the driver by the back of his collar, and tossed him clear of the chariot. The stands erupted half in cheers and half in shocked cries.
Without a driver, that chariot slowed and disappeared into the dust. I could not see how Heishiro would fare in hand-to-hand combat against Ashoka.
We pulled ahead of Jin as we crossed the starting line again, our horses galloping ever faster. We passed one chariot and then another, and rounded the curve to the starting line again. The wind rushing past me was louder than their hooves and louder than the crowd, and there was nothing but the thrill of speed and the weapon in my hand. Perhaps I would learn to ride, I thought, in order to experience this again. My worries about what was to come fell away.
Fear returned quickly enough, as the chariot began to shake, like rolling thunder or the quaking of the earth. My teeth rattled in my skull. I abandoned my weapons and held on.
The chariot held together long enough to carry us over the starting line for the last time. The horses were exhausted, foam around their mouths and lather covering their coats. The wheels shuddered once more as the axle broke, and first the left side and then the right collapsed under us.
But it mattered not. We had won.
I helped Aysulu out of the wreckage of our chariot, and she went to unhitch the horses and tend to them. Chariots in better condition than ours rumbled over the line one at a time, followed by Heishiro on foot and behind him, Ashoka, favoring a wounded arm. I saw Gaius carried in on a stretcher. His leg was badly broken, a bloodstained bone protruding. The two men from the Lion and Wolf were also injured, though they were able to walk—Alaric was holding his chest, and his companion had a slight limp.
I did not think much of it. Each team had its own healers, and while Gaius was very badly hurt, his life was not in danger. I was far too preoccupied with the thrill of victory to consider what the consequences might be for his failure to remove us from the race.
Khalim and Garvesh ran out to meet us. Khalim threw himself into my arms. He was light, but he was as tall as I, and I could lift him just high enough for his feet to clear the ground.
“You did it!” he cried.
I set him back down. “We did it. Aysulu did most of the work.”
“You’re welcome,” she called from a short distance away.
Khalim looked at the ground, embarrassed, and brushed dust from his clothing. “I should help her with the horses.”
It would be a short while before the awards were given. Garvesh offered to wait near the platform that was being set up at the center of the arena, to make sure that the Sword of Heaven would be where it was expected at the time of the ceremony. I went to our waiting area, while Khalim healed the horses and Aysulu watered them and brushed them down. They would need to be ready for a rapid escape from the city in a few hours’ time.
Khalim did not return to wait with me when his task was done. I saw him walking in the opposite direction across the colosseum and ran to catch up.
I did not need to ask what he was doing; he was heading toward the Golden Road, where Gaius was enduring what must have been agonizing pain with a grim, bloodless stoicism. A medic had set the bone, and his team’s mages were busy drawing circles around him.
Khalim noticed me and slowed his pace. “I’m going to help him,” he said. “Are you going to stop me?”
I shook my head. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
We arrived at the Golden Road’s waiting area, and Khalim put both his hands on the barrier and leaned over. “I can help,” he said.
I came up behind him and crossed my arms over my chest. I missed my axe, but I could look intimidating enough without it, were our sometime opponents to try anything.
They did not. The mages stepped aside and allowed Khalim in. Gaius’s look of powerless fear intensified and then diminished as the dugout was illuminated in soft golden light.
His clothing was still stained with blood, but the place where the bone had torn through was now unmarked new skin. Gaius pushed himself to his feet.
“I thank you,” he said, wonder and disbelief in his voice. “I am not sure what to say. We were your enemies.”
Khalim smiled. “You’re not anymore.”
“I have nothing with which to repay you,” Gaius said, “but I will tell you this. You must not offer help to the Tribe of the Lion and Wolf. They will kill you if you give them an opportunity, the festival be damned.”
Confusion troubled Khalim’s face as he left the Golden Road. He went next to the Divine Champions, and I had little choice but to follow.
Ashoka and his teammates stared at Khalim with open contempt.
“Is there something you want?” Ashoka asked, disdain filling every word.
“Your shoulder’s dislocated,” said Khalim. “The bone might be broken as well.”
Ashoka scoffed. “So you’re not a complete charlatan.”
I bristled at the insult, but Khalim ignored it. “I can help you,” he said.
“The common people might believe in you, but I am not so easily fooled,” said Ashoka. “Begone with you.”
Khalim took a step closer, but two others blocked his way into the dugout. “I’m not trying to fool anyone,” he said. He lifted his hands to show they were empty. “I’m unarmed. Let me heal you. You can see for yourself that it’s not a trick.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, Khalim’s expression earnest and Ashoka’s scowling. At last, Ashoka waved his teammates aside. “Fine,” he said. With a gesture of his head toward me, he added, “But he stays out there.”
I stood as close as the two men blocking my way would allow me, and watched them with a keen eye for a sudden movement or the flash of a weapon.
With his hands still open, Khalim went over to Ashoka. He felt for a break in the arm, and with both hands reset Ashoka’s shoulder, which the latter bore with only a twitch in his jaw to betray his pain. After that, Khalim’s magic glowed again, and the abrasions that Ashoka had likely gained when he and Heishiro tumbled from his chariot disappeared, along with all the bruising.
Suddenly, Khalim stepped back with a gasp, and Ashoka scrambled to his feet. The others crowded in between him and Khalim.
“Get away from me, sorcerer!” Ashoka snarled.
Khalim backed away, his eyes wide. I put an arm around his shoulders and took him back in the direction of our waiting area.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I’m not certain. I healed him, I’m sure of it, but…” he stopped and looked back the way we had come. “I had a flash of a vision. For a second, I saw the city in flames.”
I followed his gaze. I couldn’t see what Ashoka was doing at the moment, and I could not hear what he and his fellows were discussing. “Do you think he saw it as well?”
“I don’t know. That’s never happened before.” He took a deep breath and leaned into my chest for a moment before shrugging off my arm. “I think I should see to the Lion and Wolf. The one man’s ribs were broken.”
I looked at him in astonishment. “Didn’t you hear what Gaius said? They will try to kill you.”
“But I’m not a threat to them,” Khalim argued. “If I help them, they might see that.”
“Or they might not,” I said. “There are some people who love to kill and destroy. They revel in the blood-rage and become addicted to it, and seek it again and again. What if you healed them, and they killed someone you care about? They destroyed Aysulu’s tribe when she was young. You don’t need to help them create more ruin in the world.”
He bowed his head, his brows knit together in thought. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, but he didn’t sound certain. In any case, he returned with me to our dugout. We waited for a short while before we were called to line up before the Ascended.
They were as magnificent and terrifying as they always were, their faces beautiful masks and their skin and clothing shimmering in the afternoon sun. Andam, the emperor, turned his visage to Khalim, his expression unreadable. Khalim defiantly returned his gaze.
A speaker in blue silk thanked his gods for their benevolence. The nobles cheered, but the miners did not, and there was a tangible ripple of anger from the Ascended. He then announced House Darela as taking third place, and they were given an enchanted bow and a small chest of coins and jewels.
Ashoka accepted a magnificent warhorse, and another of his teammates took a larger chest. Both of them were avoiding looking at us.
To us, the Iron Mountain, was given the Sword of Heaven. Aysulu took it reverently in both hands. It was a strange, dark metal, almost black but shining like the Ascended themselves, or the stars from which it had come. The craftsmanship was fine, and the design perfectly elegant in its simplicity, its curved edge wickedly sharp and a false edge reaching halfway down the other side. The hilt was curved as well, like a signature flourish. It was beautiful and terrible—a sword that could kill a god.
Into my hands was placed the largest chest. It was heavy with wealth, but there was no time to open it and examine its contents. A single red firework traced a path through the sky over the stands before bursting into fiery light.
“I believe it’s time to go,” said Garvesh.
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