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Prologue
Viola - Ten Years Ago
Birds chirp happily in the trees, a song that ignores the plight of those of us here on the ground, our aching bodies struggling to complete the Race. A sunbeam splashes across my face, and I wince at the intrusion. We’ve been at it for days, so when Mother and Father insisted we stop for some real rest, I was more than happy to take some time to just exist– after all, it’s my first Race, and I’m not quite used to it yet.
I stretch languidly, the ache in my muscles throbbing and whining from use. Despite the heavy training my parents have put me through, my body is still adjusting to the continued exertion. Not for the first time, I wonder what it would be like to have parents who would treat the Race as a pilgrimage for the glory of the Gods and not something to be conquered.
My eyes scan the cave we slept in, walls moist with collected humidity. The natural stone, while good protection from creatures and other Racers, smells of rot, and the floors are so dirty that after a night of sleeping on them, I can’t see my skin, tawny and freckled from the sun. My parents are nowhere to be found within the cave, despite my search of all parts of it. I search for my canteen and drain it before standing to shake out my rigid limbs. They must have left to find a water source and breakfast.
Growing up, I was a bit jealous as kids in the small village of Dalery that I call home would turn eighteen and reach the age of Ascension and get to run the Race. For a while, I thought it would be an honor to imbue the soil with my courage and strength. But now that I’m here, freshly eighteen in my Ascension year, I just wish this could be over.
With parents like mine, though, it won’t be over until we win.
There has been ample time for my parents to return with food and fresh water before we begin our day, and the sun continues to crest the sky. It’s not like them to be gone for so long and to give up precious time to gain ground on other Racers.
I stretch and leave the small grotto I called home for the night, stepping into the beautiful summer sun that stretches overhead, marred only by a light sprinkling of rain. If you ignore the horrifying monsters that lurk in these woods at the base of the Summit, it could be considered peaceful.
I survey the land around me, quiet save for the chittering of wildlife in the morning light. A sinking feeling weighs me down, a hook in my belly demanding I hit my knees.
My parents are not here.
I see no sign of struggle, and as twisted as it is, I almost wish I did rather than face the truth I try to deny. A creeping feeling of unease climbs up my throat as the realization of my situation sinks in.
I’m all alone.
It’s like they have always said.
In the Race, there are no friends.
In the Race, there is no family.
Part 1 - The Lowlands
Chapter 1
Viola - Present Day
Allmydaysblendtogether since I’ve been on my own, but today is slightly different since it’s laundry and market day.
Water is scarce, and I try not to waste it, so my clothing is dirty and stinks of sweat from training. I keep training the way my parents taught me because I am determined to make it into Ytopie and see them again. I don’t care if I win or if I’m of the other ten and have to serve past winners and the Patricians until my death. At least then, I will not hurt for food or baths.
I finish washing one set of clothes, a pair of black shorts that stop at my knees and a gray shirt that belonged to my father, in the small creek near my home. The sun is high and warm, beating down on my neck as I plunge the clothes beneath the surface. The overgrowth of grass and weeds scratch my bare legs, making me acutely aware that I’m only in my undergarments for fear of dirtying my only clean clothes. After finishing and throwing the clothes on the line that stretches between two gnarled trees behind my home, I throw on a depressing outfit of knee-length leather shorts and a cropped black shirt and gather up the items I have available for trade.
I have saved up three eggs from Hilda, my chicken, a bar of soap made from the milk of my goat, and some cheese. Hilda only lays one egg a day, so on light training days, I will skip eating it to have something to trade with. Market days make that gnawing hunger worth it.
I twist my dark hair into twin braids that fall on my shoulders. My hair has always been a security blanket for me, as it matches my father’s, wild and unkempt as it is. It would be easier to Race with it shorter, but I cannot bear to part with it as I was left with very little from him.
With my trading wares in a small basket hooked on the crook of my arm, I head to the market, vigilant about my surroundings with the influx of people to Dalery. I cannot get attacked before the Race even begins. Competing at anything less than my physical best would guarantee another year in the Lowlands.
The town of Dalery is the closest to Ytopie. We border the outskirts of the Summit, and the Race starts just past our southernmost border. I feel for those in some of the farther villages. Feria, on the southern tip of Krillium, has a multiple-day journey by sea in the weeks before the Race begins. They must be exhausted before even stepping into Gallant Summit.
I’ve never seen any of Krillium save for Dalery and the glimpses I can get of Ytopie when I move to higher ground. My mother spent her childhood in Colris, a large mining town southeast of here. She moved to Dalery to be closer to Ytopie, believing it would increase her chances of winning. It’s no secret that most of the winners and the other ten come from our town. Other towns will say since we are so close to Ytopie, we get some of the God’s blessings.
Really, it’s just that we don’t have to travel before the Race even starts. We’re not worn out by a prolonged journey across the continent.
As a young child, I questioned my father about why the entirety of Krillium didn’t move to Dalery as my mother did, and he laughed and ruffled my hair as if the answer were obvious. “Some towns have less oversight by the fae than Dalery does, and the people prefer it that way. Others believe their superior resources will make up for any weariness that may come from the travel to the base of the Summit.”
At the time, I could not fathom how anyone would willingly give themselves a disadvantage to win the Race. Now, a decade into it, I realize that not everyone cares about winning in the way my family did. Most just want to get back to their lives.
