No!

My body falls to the sand as the stick loses its other end. Sand from both my side and Olori's draws up, covering the space in violet. Olori screams something as red crawls across the space, turning the purple ground crimson with blood. The sand stays high, hiding us both until it settles and I crawl through it, following the pooling blood.

"Olori, are you okay?" I crawl to where the blood ends and becomes nothing more than smaller drips that stain two stones poking from the earth. The sand sticks under my fingernails from where I buried my hands into the sand. 

White hair lays in the sand, coated with purple and gold. Olori stares out at me, her lips pulled back as she moves her mouth with attempts to spew insults but only falls into a horrid cough. Her colorful clothes are dull in the sand, the bright hues of kelly green and dark red lost.

The crowd stays silent as they wait for Kirabo to announce a winner but the older woman only stands with her hands behind her back and face balled up as she stares at my attempt to help Olori up despite her fight against me. Her lips form a grimace as she tries to haul herself up, hands in the sand and knees covered in blood. 

Her wound gleams red on her shoulder where she'd fallen on the stones as she favors that arm, placing all her weight on the other. 

"Allow me to help." I offer my arm to her.

"My battle is my own. Stay clear, Pawn." 

Olori staggers up, turning her eyes away from the crowd who stand on their toes and move to try to gain a better view of the situation before them. Her eyes fall on me with bitter hate and then they ease as she finds her mount. The giant white croc meets her eyes, its massive body swinging around and crawling away from the high point on the jutting stones.

"It seems as if we have two that have fallen but never have I seen such skill in any arena." Kirabo strides forward, her mount mark glowing on her arm but refusing to show itself. "Two people with two different stories fighting for the same things with the rage of an injured anterjaguar of old. It is sure that the anger of all those before them walks in their path."

Olori attempts to hide her arm but finally gives up on her feeble attempts.

"Blood touched the sand." Olori lifts her voice, giving me a warning stare to stay my distance.

Kirabo keeps her stride despite the declaration from Olori.

"We have healers and we also have gauze. Are you telling me that after the fight that you gave, a cut will be the fall of you?" Kirabo doesn't stop until she stands between us, facing the crowd who fails to keep their silence and falls into whispers. 

Olori shakes her head, waves of white falling into her face. "Of course not."

"How about you, Xeli?" Kirabo looks at me through dark brown eyes. 

I swallow hard as all the pain from the battle settles into my bones, every place where the sleek wood hit lighting up with an ache. "Yes, Kirabo."

Kirabo lifts her face to the sun above which paints the sky golden and pink from the sinking stance that it takes. "We have our champions who will usher in a time of change and beauty. For we will march into a world where the skull of the king's son will be crushed and the king will fall. No man will live forever and with good reasoning."

My bones ache as I step into the bath bucket with Olori watching me intently. She doesn't look away out of respect, but rather holds me constricted with her brutal judgment.

In our tent, scents burn the air with rose and accents of soft lavender. They glow depending on the magi in their flame, some glowing white, others orange, blue, purple, green and blush pink.

"Olori." I address her.

"Xeli."

"Why do you stare me down?" I straighten out my back and keep my eyes on her as she rubs her arms across the rose-filled water, her guide tattoo crawling from her elbow to where its head sits on her throat.

Olori smiles, her ivory teeth gleaming in the light of the closest candle. "I stare you down because I want to. Not because I need to or like to but because I want to."

"Why are you like this?" I lower myself into the steaming water, trying to find some calm in the warmth that attacks my skin.

Olori rubs the edges of her bound and bandaged injuries. "Like what?"

She lays back, her partially soaked hair resting between the edges of the marula wood that make our tub. Her breaths become come soft as if she had found sleep but I know better than that.

I finish up quickly and dress in the clothes that were taken away from the captives. They don't fit, being too baggy but somehow with the correct amount of pushing and pulling on the threads and fine purple materials of the dashiki and head wrap, it falls into place.

I leave the tent, slipping on leather-bound slippers and making my way to where few stand with worry in their eyes. The sun steadily falls behind mountains in the range that rise above the rivers and sharp land mounts.

"The sun is falling and midnight will be upon us soon. Will Olori be ready to ride out?" Asha holds my bag out, full of things to last me for the trip.

"I'm not sure. She was still in the tub."

Asha steps back to the others who gather together, mostly seers ready to prepare their spells as they plan to ride at a distance and set up a point to attack. Few others ready their children or themselves to head back to the walls and wait for magic to return.

Another seer who I've only seen in passing covers his face with one hand. "We don't have forever. The last thing that we need is for the gates to close. Then we'll have to wait another year."

The tent flaps rustle and Olori rides out on her mount, nearly knocking it from its post. She wears an outfit of a silk tunic and black trousers that strap over her shoulders with leather bounds. Her footwear is leather boots, much more suited for riding up the unforgiving terrains of Ve'hra.

Her mount moves swiftly into the middle of the clearing, gliding over stones and vines without so much as an issue. Olori lifts her chin as the two of them make their way to our group. I clear my throat and lift my face so that we meet eyes.

"I have arrived." Olori smacks her lips. "It is Xeli who is responsible for holding us up."

"Liar."

"Who is on their mount?" She waves her uninjured arm to prove to me where she sits as the animal moves its yellow-slitted eyes.

An elder rolls her eyes and throws a bag to Olori. She swings it over her shoulder and moves along to the edge of the camp where an honored of sky descent waits to lift them.

Zixo pads over and leans down just low enough for me to climb up. With a few good luck cheers for the champions, we meet Olori.

"Are you ready?" Olori whispers as clouds of white and violet climb from the hands of the honored who wishes us a safe and swift journey. For a moment, I think that some kind of change has struck in the heart of the girl.

"Might as well be."

She stiffly cut her eyes at me, her lips becoming a stiff frown. "I was speaking to Nassor."

"Be that way." I grunt."

Olori doesn't say anything as we rise above the camp and into the clouds that look as if they will break and dissolve soon. I crane my neck to try to get a look at the world beneath us, a place that I won't see again. Maybe after this, it will be me who will be walking the halls of the palace instead of endless jungles and sandy landscapes.

No more will I ache from long journeys across Ve'hra in search of chunks of wall or refuge away from search parties. Tonight we will be free.

Once we break over the wall of disbursing clouds, the paws of our mounts hit the ground and we're off. The land dips under the path that Olori takes, her mount wasting no time as they head to where the palace rises, and the battlements look like nothing more than specks of imperfection.

Zixo pushes through overgrown foliage, her nose pressed to leaves that pass her face as if looking for something familiar. She towers over Olori's mount in height but not in length, barely passing the crocodile as she speeds up.

"Do you think that we'll make it to the mountain before moonrise?" I ask as the silence becomes too heavy.

Olori doesn't spare me a look, she keeps moving, if not speeding up.

"We should if we keep at this pace." Zixo speaks. "But you should rehearse the information that the seers placed in your bag. They took identification scrolls from the captives."