At this thought, Jake suddenly felt a little lighter in his steps, but his parents’ journals in his jacket reminded him of his duty. He could not lose focus. He had to get over to the temple today.
“We’d better hurry,” Pindor said, his face aglow with the thrill of it all.
Jake looked back to the city, then glanced at the crowds around him. Perhaps he could escape as they entered the stadium. The press of people would offer a good chance to slip off.
“Your sister, Katherine, is already inside,” Pindor said to Jake, drawing back his attention.
Jake nodded. Maybe it would be best to wait until he spoke to Kady before he made his escape. She should know what he was going to attempt to do. Maybe she could even help.
Jake rolled his eyes at this last thought—yes, he had become that desperate.
17
FIRST SKIRMISH
Jake stepped out of a short dark tunnel and into the sunlit stadium. It already rang with the excited babble of the gathering crowd. Across all three levels of seating, banners and flags waved. They formed a patchwork of colors around the central field as tribes staked out their own areas. Even the rim of the stadium jostled with the giant winged raz and the People of the Wind.
“This way!” Pindor urged, and almost dragged Jake after him. Marika hurried to follow.
Pindor led them to the front of the Roman section, where a group of empty seats waited for them. Jake and Marika hurried into the first row. The two Magisters settled into the row behind them, sighing happily, content never to move again.
Pindor refused to sit and stood at the fence at the bottom of the stands. Jake and Marika joined him.
On either side of the field were two teams of Othneilia, what the people here called fleetbacks. Each beast was saddled, while men and women bustled around, adjusting straps and checking each mount. The Roman team wore white sashes bearing the red lightning bolt of Zeus. On the far side of the field must be the Sumerians. They wore snug black scarves that covered the lower halves of their faces. They were already climbing into their saddles.
“It won’t be long now,” Pindor said.
Marika glanced to the sun in the sky and agreed. “It’s almost the middle of the Equinox day.”
Centurion Gaius suddenly appeared on the step next to them. He called to Jake. “I was ordered to fetch you to see your sister before the Olympiad begins.”
Jake saw that the Viking party had taken up seats in a neighboring section. They waved flags that were sea blue with a silver eye in the center.
Jake followed the big man down a narrow set of stairs. Sand crunched underfoot as they skirted along the field. At the far side of the Viking section, he spotted a group of older girls in horned helmets, wearing green tunics and breeches.
As Gaius approached, a few of the girls straightened their tunics or leaned to whisper and point toward the tall, broad-shouldered guard. Jake searched for Kady.
Then the group of girls parted before the centurion, and Jake saw her. Kady leaned against the wall beside a gate. One of the Roman riders stood next to her, an arm on the wall. He leaned forward like he was about to kiss her.
“Heronidus!” Gaius barked.
Pindor’s brother turned and snapped to attention. Gaius pointed toward the gate. “Shouldn’t you be seeing to your mount rather than moon-eyeing a young woman?”
“No…I mean, yes, Centurion Gaius.”
“Then I suggest you attend to it.”
Heronidus snapped a fist to his chest, then turned and scrambled away. Kady straightened. She had a rolled flag in her hand, probably a gift from Heronidus. She at least had the decency to raise a blush to her cheeks as she crossed over to join them.
Jake shook his head. Nothing changes. Even in this strange land, Kady was already dating the captain of the football team.
“Jake,” she said, and moved closer. “I heard you got stung by something. Are you all—”
He cut her off. “There’s no time to explain. But I think someone tried to kill me. Left a giant scorpion on my bed.”
Her eyes grew wider and more intense. “What?” She clutched the sleeve of his shirt. “What happened?”
He switched to English. “It’s a long story…with lots of holes in it. But I need your help.”
“How? Doing what?”
“With everyone here at the stadium, now’s the best—and possibly only—chance for me to sneak over to that pyramid and check it out. I’m just looking for some sort of distraction. A commotion or something. Anything so I can slip away without anyone really paying attention.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
She nodded. “My team and I will come up with something.”
“Your team?”
Jake stared over at the gaggle of Viking girls. Only now did he note that all of them had their hair up in a French braid, an exact match to Kady’s. “What are you going to—”
She waved him away. “Not exactly sure yet. But just watch for my signal, then get moving.”
Before he could ask more a gong sounded, followed by the heavy beat of a drum.
Centurion Gaius crossed over to them. “Best you return to your seats. The Olympiad begins.”
Once back with Pindor and Marika, Jake watched the two teams form lines on opposite ends of the field. There were seven players on each team. The saurians huffed and tossed their long necks. The riders shouted last-minute instructions to one another. The crowd grew hushed in anticipation. Jake felt the beating of four massive drums—one at each corner of the stadium—in his chest.
Pindor leaned over the fence. Marika chewed her knuckle.
His friends had tried to explain the game rules to Jake, but he’d barely paid attention. All he knew was that the first part of the Olympiad was called the skirmish.
A horn blew a single long note, and from overhead, one of the mighty raz took flight from the highest perch along the stadium rim. A crimson ball, the size of a pumpkin, dropped to the sandy floor.
What followed seemed like pure chaos, a brawl of beast and rider for the ball, but there must have been some strategy.
“Oh, no,” Pindor moaned. “They’re going for the Dragged Foot Gambit—can’t Heron see!”
A mighty cheer rose from the Sumerians and their supporters. Banners flew higher there, and flags waved like mad. The Romans yelled and groaned.
Pindor failed to lose his enthusiasm. “It’s only the skirmish! So the Sumerians get the ball first. It’s not the end of the game…only the beginning.”