Page 125 of The Only Way Out Is Up

Shit. The last thing I need is to get blindsided by the bastard. Ky still looks stunned, barely hanging on to her sword, and I grab her by the unwounded arm and shake her.

“Figure it out later! I need your help.”

“Why—” She blinks and focuses on the snake in front of us. “Right. Later.”

“We need a hole in that thing. Can you widen one of those gaps?”

Ky looks over the various scrapes and cuts Star has managed to inflict on Vripiai. Her eyes narrow, and she nods.

“We’ll play this like Rotwurm, okay?”

She gets it immediately and we share a grin. Then she takes off sideways, away from me and the snake both. Its head swings after her, but I shout to draw its attention.

“Over here, you bastard! Come and get me!”

Vripiai turns back in my direction. I have no idea what’s happened to Quech, but he’s evidently not giving commands right now, so the snake has fallen back on its own programming. In other words, it’s as dumb as Rotwurm or any other Twisted. I hope.

And here it comes, fast as ever in spite of the damage, right at me. It takes an effort of will not to run. Instead I send to Star and he leaps in front of me. His shield-arm comes up, green sigil winking, and he meets the descending snake head-on. The impact drives him backward nearly into my face. His remaining legs leave long scores in the flagstones, and a shower of green sparks flies from the back of the shield. But it holds, absorbing the force, and Vripiai comes momentarily to a stop.

Ky sprints at the snake from one side, aiming for its midsection. Vripiai, still shoving against Star, flicks its tail negligently at this new threat. The spike drives straight for Ky’s chest, but she sidesteps at the last moment and brings her sword down in a bright arc that severs the spiked tip. Before Vripiai can react she vaults its writhing coils and aims another blow at a bent scale hanging from a single joint. It falls free with a clatter, leaving a hole the size of my head in Vripiai’s armor plating.

Then Ky’s past, sliding in a cloud of dust under another twisting loop as it tries to crush her. Vripiai starts to pull away from Star, but I reach out and activate the EXPLODE-REPEL construct I’d worked so hard to replace last night. Power slams out with a whumph and Vripiai’s head snaps backward, leaving the snake sprawled in the dust.

“This way, ugly!” Ky sings out. “That’s right, you know you want this!”

She waves her sword in front of Vripiai’s optics, a shining ribbon of steel. The snake flips over, drawing in its coils, head lifting from the ground to lunge. But in doing so it turns its back on Star.

He leaps for the gap Ky created. Vripiai’s tail comes up to skewer him, but the construct’s programming doesn’t realize its tail-spike is gone; the blunt end only slaps ineffectively at Star’s carapace. His manipulator snaps out and shoves the last of my BLAST weapons through the chink in the snake’s armor.

Vripiai may not know exactly what’s happening, but it knows something is wrong, and it tightens its coils to whip its head around. Star’s manipulator gets caught; he leaps anyway, barely dodging the snake’s fangs, and leaves the delicate arm behind. I hit the ground and cover my ears as Vripiai curls in on itself, trying to dislodge this odd device—

Boom. Shards of armor spall away as fire bursts from every joint in the snake’s body, mixed with the sparks of dozens of shattering sigils. With a metallic screech of agony, Vripiai collapses in on itself, some internal lubricant blazing up into a spectacular bonfire shot through with wild sprays of sparks.

[Satisfaction: got you, fucker.]

You can say that again.

For a few moments, I’m too addled to remember what’s supposed to happen next.

Ky reappears at my side, shouting excitedly, but I can barely make out words through the ringing in my ears. She helps me up—all my injuries are queueing up to report now that the immediate danger has passed—and points me toward the stands, where the great and the good of Hod are on their feet. Their cheers wash over me, and I cautiously raise one hand and wave.

The judge’s stand is empty except for Hisham, who steps forward and clears his throat. His amplified voice cuts through the roar.

“The, um, match, or matches, shall we say, is over! I’m not sure we, um, caught every detail, but I think we can safely say that Taj and Star are the victors. And, um, Kycilea Tranto appears to have defeated Gestian Vianor as well. So it is, um, my very honored duty to declare that Taj Fara is the overall winner of the Asce—”

“No.” Alzimyth’s voice cuts him off, cold and hard. “Not yet. Come here, boy.”

My heart clenches, and I look to Ky. She shakes her head, bewildered. The three of us limp toward the edge of the arena where the judge’s stand looms. One of my legs is weak, and Ky has to take my arm to keep me from falling. On the other side I lean on Star; he shuffles awkwardly with two missing legs.

The knight has mounted the stand beside Hisham. Behind him there’s a rising chorus of complaints, and even scattered boos.

“There will be one final match,” Alzimyth snaps. “Between Taj and my champion. That will reveal whether he is truly worthy to ascend.”

Silence for a moment. Then more boos. I can only stare in dull horror. Ky grips my arm very tight.

“Um. Um.” Hisham shifts nervously from foot to foot, and finally blurts out, “Honored guest. Most honored. With all appropriate respect. That is. Um.” He takes a deep breath. “That is not according to the rules.”

“I am the judge of this tournament, am I not?”