The morning of our first Performance Review, I'm sick to my stomach with nerves. I think everyone at my table feels the same; even Wick barely touches his breakfast.
We're all thinking the same thing: the next ten hours or so will define our future, even if just for the following week. Worst-case scenario, we're banished to the Infirmid. Or we die during the Tap-Out Session.
Of course, the stakes are much higher for me.
We leave D-Hall just before eight and arrive in U-Gym way too early.
Briar tries to pep us up while we put our floor selections into the box by the door of his gym, encouraging us not to be nervous. I can't take my eyes off Ritter and the five people he has with him. We were told the leaders of each overarching division would be here assessing us, but to see them in person is much more intimidating.
Eveia explains each of them in turn. She really does have a knack for remembering facts. "Lit is the Force Master." She points to the man with close-cropped hair and bulging muscles. His face is clean-shaven, so we can see a long scar follows his jawline.
"And then Wyren is the Weapons Master." A woman with long, braided blonde hair yawns. Next to her, a short man with black hair and beady eyes scratches at his beard. "Icarit is the Master of Special Tasks."
The last pair stands off a few feet from the others. A small woman with short brown hair, a pert nose, and large blue eyes tilts her head down, listening, as the other, a broad-shouldered man with graying hair and matching goatee murmurs something in her ear. "Nazareai and Massrat," Eveia says. "She is Head Healer, and he's the Rescue Master."
Each of the division leaders will have a say in our final placement, recommending some, rejecting others. We'll interview with the leader of the division in which our chosen position falls before the final Initiation.
"Breathe, Nadia." Briar hands me my five knives. "They're just people, like you or me. Don't lose focus."
He moves to the next person. I weigh the knife in my hand, remembering the height and force I'll need to put behind it to get it to the target. I can do this, at least; I may still be a bit shaky with archery, especially in a real-time simulation, but I own knife throwing.
I'll need to be perfect, though, to get high marks here, because I'll surely fail at the Tap Out.
"Prepare yourselves." Wyren stands behind us. "You will have ten minutes to throw five knives. There will be a short intermission where targets and weapons will be switched out, at which point you will be given twenty minutes to loose ten arrows. The final forty-five minutes will be spent in a solo simulation event."
My heart drops. Solo means I'm on my own for each kill.
Wyren calls, "On my count...."
*
My lunch tray trembles in my hands as I move slowly to our table. This morning passed in a blur of adrenaline and nerves, and only now am I able to process everything.
I killed the knife-throwing task, hitting the bulls-eye with my first throw. I tried to space the other four knives as evenly as possible around the center knife. I could tell by Briar's twitching lips he was proud, so I know I did well there.
The arrows weren't as bad as I'd worried they would be. All ten of mine hit within the second ring, four of them landing in the center one. Even the simulation was better than expected. I had to shoot at least three birds out of the sky in the forty-five minutes allotted us. I managed to get five; after the first two, it wasn't difficult to shut down my moral squeamishness at taking a life.
Then we were rushed down to the lake in shuttle buses. I barely found my slot and stretched my shoulders before Massrat called for order. I'd lost Eveia and the boys in the rush; I remember looking around for them when Massrat raised the flare gun. Then the world exploded in a spray of pink light, and everyone around me ran into the water. I had about half a stride to catch up, and I am not a strong swimmer. I remember my arms aching, pulling me forward, my feet kicking against the water that clawed at me, dragging me down.
Then I was in mud, then dry ground, and I was trying to sprint with my waterlogged clothing. I gained a few places in the uphill run, but I could still tell I was toward the back of the middle.
I distinctly remember Eveia's dark hair swinging into the Welcome Cave only one person ahead of me. If only I'd pushed just a little harder....
But my lungs still burn and all the muscles in my body feel like jelly. How will I fight after this morning?
Kaz gives me his roll. "You look like you could use the extra carbs."
He'd been sitting by the stairs, waiting, when I finished the race. "I think you were fifty-second," he'd said, as if that were a decent placement. Eveia had continued on to meet Wick in D-Hall.
I take a bite of the bread. "So what place were you?" I finally feel I can speak without running out of air.
Kaz grins. "Sixth. Wick almost caught me."
"Still top ten, baby!" Wick pumps the air with his fist.
I'm surprised. I knew Wick enjoyed the aquatics sessions, but I hadn't realized he was so skilled.
"How are you so energetic?" Eveia is holding her head in her hands. "I feel like crawling under the table and dying."
We don't speak much the rest of the meal. Eveia is the first of the four of us scheduled to fight, so we head down to Sub-Gym early.
"Do you know who you're matched against?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Someone named Fila. Hope it's a girl!"
I wonder how they do the matching. Probably completely random. I could see the Kuzabn having a policy where you have to be strong enough to beat anyone, no matter your opponent. Even if it is Persy.
I swallow hard. Now that the adrenaline of this morning has drained, I'm petrified. My only consolation is the Tap Out rule—this will only last as long as it takes me to smack the mat.
We line up according to our positions, so when one fight ends, the next will be ready to go. Three fights go at once.
I take my place and watch a few people in front of me as Eveia takes the mat across from a bear of a woman. I feel for Eveia.
The matches begin, but I find it hard to watch. I try to remember my strategies, pressure points, whatever can help me survive.
The floor leaders walk the room, stopping every so often to speak with each of the recruits. Briar approaches me.
"Nadia, how are you feeling?"
"Peachy," I reply, trying to focus on not throwing up.
"Do you have any weapons or illegal substances on you?"
My eyes snap to his face. "What?"
"I have to ask," Briar says. "Or search you. I prefer to trust one's word until they break it."
So that's what the leaders are doing. I shake my head no.
"Okay. Good luck." He claps my back and when he does, he leans in and whispers, "Whatever you do, don't tap out."
"He'll kill me."
But Briar is already walking backwards towards the next recruit. He shakes his head. "Don't do it," he mouths.
I wonder if Briar hates me; could he have held onto a grudge since Selection day, waiting for this moment to convince me to fight to the death? Maybe he envies my skill and wants me dead. It's preposterous, but why else would he tell me to commit suicide?
Because that's what this is.
I can run through every scenario in my head, plan my moves perfectly, but Persy still has probably close to a hundred pounds on me. Still, my instincts say I have no real reason not to trust Briar's intentions.
I'll have to try not to tap out.
-----------------------------------------
Yikes. Nadia has to fight Persy. Who do you think will win?
And do you think Briar is up to something?
Til next time,
x zuz