Page 68 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire
“Right. Deep breath.” His palm remained firm on my back before he suddenly pulled back. “Now roll up, arms lifted. Good.”
By this point, most of the novice and apprentice soturi had lined up around the track in the arena, daggers readily marking each soturion’s starting point. Some were jumping in place while others were positioned in impressive lunges, their bodies rocking back and forth with energy.
“It’s time,” called the Ready. “Returning apprentices and novices know the rules. Newly sworn novices and transfers, remember this. Akadim don’t stop. Akadim don’t tire. And neither will you. If you stop, if you decide to take a break from the run, if you fail to follow the orders of your Arkturion, even now, expect to return tonight and do this again. Also remember, that runs are not the time for fights. You fight on this track, you’ll be lashed on this track.”
I swallowed, my eyes falling on the tall black whipping pole off to the side. Haleika had warned me at breakfast that Turion Dairen and Aemon always picked one soturion to be whipped the first day of training—to set an example and get everyone in line.
“Don’t look at that,” Rhyan said. “Don’t think about it. That’s not for you. Eyes on the track, mind on your next step. That’s your only thought. Look ahead, take the next step. See yourself in the place you want to be.”
The ashvan soared into the sky, and tendrils of topaz light spiraled from their galloping hooves.
Sweat dripped behind my neck. My fear fell over me, gripping and twisting my limbs, already tight and uncomfortable. The soturi surrounding me were strong and deadly, their bodies covered in muscles. Their auras shimmered with power, and danger. I could sense their magic pulsing in their veins, feel the force of their unnatural strength. I’d seen what a handful of untrained soturi were capable of doing last night. Now I was with hundreds, far more skilled. Running alongside them now seemed stupid and dangerous.
“Don’t look at them, they don’t matter.” Rhyan crouched into a beautiful lunge, the muscles so clearly defined in his arms and legs. “Get into position, just like this.”
My hands gripped the dirt as it settled beneath my fingernails. My heart raced.
“Listen carefully.” Rhyan’s voice was low. “You’re going to be the worst one out there.”
“Screw you.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“I think we have very different definitions of the word, ‘help,’” I said through gritted teeth.
“While I’d love to debate semantics with you, this is important. Youwillbe the worst one out there. It’s a fact. The sooner you accept it, the better. Because then you can let it go. This isn’t a race. No one wins. Remember that. There are no winners. When you see the other’s speed, you’ll want to catch up. Don’t. Don’t try to race them, don’t try to outrun them. You’ll only hurt yourself pushing too hard or get sucked into the crowd. This is about stamina, not speed. You have to survive the hour, and you will.”
Swallowing, my throat already dry, I nodded. But my stomach was still twisting, and the more soturi I spotted, the smaller I felt, like a kitten growling at fully grown lions.
“You’ll grow stronger.” His voice softened. “You’ll get faster. But they are not your competition right now. You are.”
I have two arms, two legs. My feet can run, my muscles will build stamina. My hands can learn to hold a sword, and my arms will strengthen to withstand its weight.
The ashvan descended in a rainbow of jewel tones, and the timekeeper rang the bells.
Rhyan was off before I could blink, running impossibly fast, vanishing through the others on the track. And at a much much slower speed, I ran. In a rush of sound, sweat, and flesh, my classmates passed me, and I was left to run alone for a blissful moment—until the fastest soturi completed their first loop and came upon me again. I turned around just before a herd of runners raced by. Some sped faster when they neared, others slowed to mutter curses under their breath. The message was clear: I wasn’t welcome here.
I nearly tripped to avoid bumping into Naria, who had clearly run too close to me. A rush of older novice soturi raced together, and I stumbled, the force of them like a gale-force wind. I ran off the track, disoriented, but quickly jumped back on, narrowly avoiding tripping over a row of daggers at my feet. The damned things had to be jumped over constantly.
I took a deep breath. It wasn’t a race. I just had to survive, no matter how humiliating the run was. Once I’d grown comfortable with my pace, I started to feel all right, almost energized. But when we hit the twenty-minute mark, shooting pain seized my stomach, and I doubled over with cramps.
Haleika and Galen ran beside me, quickly offering solutions. They flanked me, running interference from those attempting to herd slower runners off the track as I breathed into my cramps, massaging my stomach. But this only angered everyone running around us. It seemed like the longer we ran, the more violent they became, attempting to bump into me, or running right on my heels.
“You’re not here to help your friend,” Turion Dairen yelled. “You think akadim slow their chase for friends? They’ll thank you for the easy kill. And destroy you. Now move! Faster!”
Haleika’s face fell, her bottom lip jutting out in protest.
Leander ran by, red with exertion. “Grey, go!” He leapt over a series of dagger hilts, dust exploding from his heels as he landed.
“Hal, we’ve got to.” Galen’s voice turned apologetic. “Keep going, Lyr.”
Haleika sped up, and Galen joined her.
My feet dragged through the dirt. Dust clouds rose behind me. My body simply slowed down. I was faint, weak, and so so tired.
“Speed up!” shouted Aemon. “Final five minutes. Anyone who doesn’t increase their speed runs again tonight!”
My stomach twisted as somehow everyone on the track ran faster. My skin itched from the heat and sweat mixed with dust that had pasted onto my skin. Tears ran down my face as I forced myself to run harder. Shadows loomed as the ashvan took flight, and the warning bells of the approaching hour rang. I was so close to finishing, if I could just keep going.
