Faal tossed Sonia a damp towel to wipe the sweat from her face. “You know, what you lack in technique and experience, you almost make up for in speed.”
Sonia sniffed. “Nothing makes up for bad technique.”
Faal ignored her, casually stretching his well built torso. “I said almost."
Sonia snapped the towel at his bare shoulder.
"Ow." Faal grabbed at the towel but missed. "How can you hurt me worse with a towel than you do with metal?" Faal began jogging back down Academy hill and Sonia fell in beside him. "I think we should register for the Grand Spirit Run this year.”
“A race?”
“It’s an annual thing. Runners circle around the exterior of the abyss. The winner takes home a trophy. It’s good sport.”
Sonia shrugged. “If you want to.”
Faal glanced at her, seemingly incredulous. “Where’s your sense of sport? Don't you ever want to win?”
“Maybe you beat it out of me in our early morning sparring sessions.”
“Liar. You never had any, but you do have drive.”
"Sometimes winning is dangerous. Nails that stick out get hammered in."
“It's a great tradition for all Barronites,” Faal’s said, his voice gaining enthusiasm. “A chance to rally the people to hope in our future. Besides, winners become city celebrities.”
A shadow passed over Sonia’s face. “I think I’m already small-time famous.
“Okay, forget fame. Fame has been a big thorn in your side—or shoulders, so to speak."
Sonia cringed.
"Sorry! I’m just saying.”
“I know it’s hard to live with impossible expectations hanging over you, believe it or not, but I think this run will help people see you for what you are—really fast—and not what some old prophesy claims you have to be. If I were you, I would make my own legend--not just wait around buckling down under one that was forced on me.”
Sonia grunted. "I'm buckling?"
"Nothing personal."
“I'll think about it," she said, letting the subject drop, finishing the run home in silence.
Sonia
The Academy had a basic hierarchy designating status to a core few academics working under General Travertine. However, a small coterie of staff did most of the work of running the institution. Aides often did much of the lecturing. If they weren't teaching, they attended classes, occupying the corners of rooms and keeping unseen--mostly.
Sonia watched Nexius from her seat at the back of the classroom. She’d heard he had only graduated recently, that he’d only begun at the Academy as an older student. Following graduation, most white tunic graduates ought to be serving a mandatory two-year stint in Grater Barren’s militia. Nexius's limp exempted him from service, but rumor was that he had declined General Travertine's invitation to work along side him in the north wing, even though his father had worked under the General, and the General had hand-picked Nexius for the privilege. The impolitic boy had actually refused the job. Now he worked as low-level Academy staff, was shadowed by rumors, and stayed aloof from most people. Why not from her?
Nexius had confided in her. And she couldn’t forget the expression in his eyes, opening up and exposing his insides. All that truth was so strange—not only because she had to keep her own secrets, but because everyone did the same. Faal lied to her, and did so with intent. No matter how she studied Faal’s eyes, she couldn’t read them. She grunted with the irony. His first lesson of swordplay was read your opponent. How could she? Could he read her? The brass bell from the bell tower tolled, bong, bong, bong. Three o'clock. She closed her history book and filed into a line of students heading into class.
It was algebra. Barronites were serious about math--even credited it for having saved their lives in their first months on the abyssal shelf. It had been a race against time to plant and harvest their first crop. Had they not calculated accurately the correct gradient to build the canals which ran from the spring, through the fields, that crop would not have survived, and they all would have starved to death. Algebra had saved their lives.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Sonia watched the professor call out student names to answer complex equations, aloud. They all did it, most solving their equations quickly on paper, a few could solve the problems in their heads. Sonia’s math wasn’t nearly as advanced as her White Tunic peers, but it didn’t really matter much. The teacher ignored her in class, and she rarely followed the instructor’s lectures, preferring to daydream or watch her peers.
“Sonia, please answer the equation.” She started to hear her name and froze for several seconds until the instructor repeated the question. She had no hope of answering it, and she glanced right and left while students stared, some faces marked by superiority, and some by pity. Her gaze caught Nexius's, and with one blink, a number was there, inside her head. She repeated the value.
“Correct.”
Sonia started. What had just happened? She hadn't worked out the solution. How had she known the answer?
She stared at Nexius, who stared back at her with an amused expression before glancing away to the window.
Had he given her the answer?
Was that possible?
She felt her heart racing in her chest as she tried to work the equation out on paper. She spent several minutes, working it and reworking it. Finally, she solved for y, but it took her a full five minutes.
Suddenly, the bell tolled four o'clock and she glanced around for Nexius, but he was already gone.
*
The Grand Spirit Run was an anticipated event, but Grater Barren’s leadership didn’t encourage students to enter the race, or even to watch it. In fact, for a public event which occurred every year at the same time, it seemed strangely off limits to the young. There was no break in the class schedule. And the Academy’s staff kept a close eye on students trying to enroll, and immediately intercepted Faal and Sonia’s applications before they could get anywhere. Then they sent notice directly to Stillwater cottage.
“Faal. Who gave you permission to register The Spirit Run?” Asp frowned at his son from across the dinner table.
“Dad. I’m a fast runner. Let me run.”
“You’re not running. Neither is Sonia.”
“But, Dad I’m old enough. I’ll be graduating soon.”
“Faal. I’m not going to let you endanger yourself or Sonia.”
Sonia listened in silence to the argument. At some point she interrupted. “I’ll respect your decision, but I’ll look out for Faal if you let us run.”
Faal laughed. “You’ll look after me?”
Evra and Asp exchanged glances. “No. Sonia. Another race. Another time.”
Nessa caught Sonia’s gaze. “People in favor of the race say it’s just as well to let a few of us—”
“Nessa that’s enough,” Evra said.
Nessa balked. “What? I don’t say it. Other people say it.”
Asp glared at her. “Yes, well we don’t repeat what other people say. Out of the question. Discussion over.”
Sonia
Sonia assumed Faal had left home ahead of her for an extra training session in the gymnasium, but she spotted him heading away from the Academy and toward the city, and thought she knew what he was up to. He was going to the edge of the abyss to see the race…or worse, maybe even compete.
Watching him go, Sonia wondered what was so objectionable about the Spirit Run. She couldn’t worry about a run—even a difficult run—not for her own sake. She could run anything, but the same might not be true for everyone. Maybe not even for a tough boy like Faal. Racing was an area of rare confidence for her. This, and she was letting Faal go off by himself to confront the one thing at which she might be useful to have around.
Sonia glanced back over her shoulder and exhaled. “Damn Grater Barren’s history lesson,” she muttered, and began running back down the hill. “Faal!”
She called out to him from behind.
Faal paused in his tracks. “What?”
“I’m coming with you.”
H waited, but frowned. “You know, Sonia. My parents are probably right. You shouldn’t come.”
“What’s so wrong with this race, Faal? What’s so dangerous about it?”
Faal glanced away. “I don’t really know. It’s a challenging race—I can’t tell why they don’t let us compete—but I think they’re being over protective. Grater Barren has too many rules— I can’t stand it.”
“They probably have a reason for them.”
“Maybe, but sometimes you’ve got to fight the current, you know?”
“That’s why I’m coming.”
Faal shrugged. “All right, but I didn’t put you up to it.”
Sonia jogged lightly alongside Faal all the way past the city and toward the edge of the abyss. Crowds had gathered. Mostly adult men, but also a few women and young students from the Academy. People painted their tunics and their faces with bright clay paints. Some hoisted banners of fabric painted with slogans: Run with Spirit!
A band played not far from the starting line where a small crowd of runners had assembled. It all looked like a family friendly fun run to Sonia. She couldn’t see what there was to object to. She was in the middle judging the Stillwaters to be over-anxious parents, when Faal pulled his white tunic over his head, revealing a small jersey with the number 75 painted upon its front and back.
Sonia frowned and made a last-ditch effort to persuade him.
“Sonia. I’ll be fine. Stay behind and well away from the edge, okay?”
“Why do it, Faal. They’ll find out. You’ll be punished.”
“I know, but I thought about it, and I need to do this for my own reasons.”
Sonia rolled her eyes. “It’s just a stupid race—it's not worth risking your parent’s trust.”
“The spoils go to the brave.”
Sonia exhaled a deep breath. “Okay, then.”
“You’re not running, I am.”
“Sonia pulled off her tunic over her head and hung it over a partition. The cool air swept through her undershirt, but she’d soon be warm. “I’m not going to let you run it alone.”
Faal exhaled. “Remember, I didn’t make you do it.” He led her inside the partition separating runners from the audience.
Sonia sniffed. “It’s on me.”
Faal leaned close. “Listen, I’m going to make my break early on, and you’ll be running alone. Are you sure you want to do this?”
Sonia stifled a smile. “Sure. I can run by myself. I’ve done that a lot.”
Faal nodded. “Okay. Then stay with the pack. I understand the pack tends to fare best running together and helping each other through the obstacles.”
“What kind of obstacles?”
“The perches.”
“Perches?”
“Jumps. They’re meant to simulate the Magnus Avem’s decent into the abyss.”
Sonia grabbed Faal by the jersey. “How high are they?”
Faal shrugged, the whistle sounded, and the runners were off.