Page 55 of The Only Way Out Is Up

[Optimism: cockiness is appropriate], Star sends as Venci stalks away.

Let’s not go too far with it. We’re setting a target on ourselves now. People are going to take their best shots.

[Confidence: their best shots will be inadequate.]

That’s certainly what we’re hoping. But be careful of surprises.

“You’ve all been waiting for it!” Venci’s amplified voice booms through the arena. “The young man who’s been taking the pits by storm, now ready to build a streak of his own! Fighting only here at Venci’s, it’s our new king of the pit, Taj and Star!”

I step through the curtain into a wall of sound. The pit is even more packed than at my first appearance, bowing fences in danger of spilling excited spectators into the arena. Star, resplendent in his new paint job, capers and waves to rounds of delighted laughter.

“And who is bold enough to try to end this run before it begins? Only someone with solid steel balls, that’s for sure!” More laughter. “Another newcomer to our arena, it’s Agin and Crusher!”

The curtain on the other side opens, and I get the joke. Crusher is a big runic with a beetle-like shape, six-legged and heavily armored along the flanks. It has two more fighting limbs at the front, plus a peculiar bulbous protrusion like a globular metal nose. Beside it, Agin looks sleek and well-fed, his clothes a cut above the usual for Malkuth.

Both runics enter the arena, and the gates are closed behind them. Agin meets my eyes across the pit and gives me a cocky smile. I was almost feeling bad for him for a moment there, but meeting his eyes I decide I’ll be happy to wipe the grin off his face.

The bell rings. Almost immediately, Crusher’s huge steel nose falls off its face.

It’s a ball, a brushed steel sphere half the size of Star. A heavy chain connects it to the runic, and as I watch, Crusher’s head snaps up and the chain goes taut. A twitch of the beetle-construct’s body sends the ball sliding along the arena floor and then up into the air, whipping around Crusher in slow, lazy circles.

[Fascination: that is new. Query: why don’t I have one of those?]

Looks heavy. The air thrums as the ball picks up speed. I can’t imagine the sheer strength necessary to get that much metal in motion—there must be orange or even yellow sigils inside the rotating socket. There’s a lot of money in this runic. I think this guy may be from Yesod. Watch yourself.

[Assessment: the ball poses a danger only in the horizontal plane.]

I see what he’s getting at immediately. Go for it.

Crusher comes forward, the whirling ball now a blurred disc of destruction around it. Star waits calmly until the bigger runic approaches his side of the arena.

Then he moves, not toward Crusher and its circling weapon but away. The crowd roars, and Agin spits a command that sends Crusher lurching faster, trying to catch Star against the edge of the arena. Star, however, has no intention of being trapped; he hits the pit wall and goes up. While his combat body lacks the BIND sigils that let his smaller form scuttle along ceilings, thrusting his spiky legs into the gaps in the fences works almost as well. Spectators scream and throw themselves backward, spilling drinks.

Watch where you’re poking. It’ll look bad if we stab somebody.

[Assessment: killjoy.]

Agin is shouting, though whether it’s directed at Crusher or me I have no idea. Star jumps from two stories, descending with all eight legs pressed together into a single spike. He lands right on Crusher’s midsection, and yellow-orange sparks fountain into the air; even armor plated with RESIST sigils can’t take that much force at once.

Crusher bucks and twitches, trying to respond to the increasingly desperate commands Agin shouts at it. But its fighting arms can’t reach up to its back, and the spinning ball, though impressive, is useless once you’re inside its circle. Star has all the time in the world to peel back the damaged plates and jab his legs down into Crusher’s workings, drawing more sprays of sparks as sigils shatter. I wince instinctively at every burst of yellow. Those are expensive.

In a matter of seconds, Crusher sinks to the floor. The metal ball caroms off the wall of the arena and tangles its chain around the runic’s inert body. Star hops to the floor, doing another little dance and holding two legs in the air.

“A-and it’s over!” Even Venci sounds shocked, but she recovers quickly. “Star is now a true champion and king of this pit! But there are more challengers waiting! What do you think, Taj, are you ready for another round?!”

I savor the moment while the crowd’s roar builds to a fever pitch. Then I give a thumbs-up, and everyone goes mad.

The pile of coins on Weslai’s table takes my breath away.

It’s been a week. Ten fights, and Star has won them all, most in less time than it takes Venci to do the introductions. What we have here is not even the main pot, just the kickback Ky negotiated, but it’s still a shocking sum.

“I make this my share,” Weslai says, sliding a fraction of the pile across the table.

Ky looks at it, lips moving slightly as she counts, then wordlessly slides a stripe and a handful of bits back into the center.

“Ah,” Weslai says sheepishly. “I, um, forgot to carry the one.”

“Right.” Ky sweeps everything into a leather bag, the soft clinking music to my ears. “With what we got last time, this is enough for the entry fee.”