Page 62 of The Only Way Out Is Up

“So Star is going to fight,” Venci says. “One match. If he wins, you can take the money and go. But if you don’t fight, then I get to keep the pot, and I’ll just fucking hope it covers the damage from the fucking riot. And you two will be blacklisted at every pit in Malkuth if you manage to make it out of here alive!”

Ky glances at me. I snap the last of Star’s armor back into place and meet Venci’s furious gaze.

“Then we’ll fight,” I tell her. “One match. Get the money ready to go.”

Star rises smoothly to his feet.

The door opens, and the wall of sound that meets us feels like a physical blow.

I thought they were packed in tight before, but that was barely a crowd by tonight’s standards. I’m seriously wondering if the fences on the upper levels can take the strain. The pit is surrounded by a solid shell of humanity, faces crammed cheek by jowl, all screaming at the top of their lungs.

It bothers me, somehow. Our last few fights were easy, almost boring, with nothing to justify this sudden increase in attention. And I feel more hostility from the crowd than I’m used to. The last few matches, they’ve been practically in our pocket.

Ky stays beside me this time, hood pulled up to hide her face. I’ve got my pack with Star’s thief body tucked in a corner. Once the fight’s over, I don’t want to lose a minute getting out of here. Venci has disappeared somewhere, but her amplified voice booms through the arena.

“Welcome, all, to Venci’s pit! Tonight it is going to be a show, I promise you that. You all know our champion, the mystery boy and his mystery runic who came out of nowhere to demolish all comers. Can Taj and Star take home yet another win?”

More cheering than jeering. If the crowd is angry, it’s not me they’re angry with. Star and I step out onto the platform and wave to the crowd together.

“After so many fights,” Venci says, “what kind of an idiot would take these two on? The money’s good”—she jingles a sack of bits—“but the glory is better. And tonight’s challenger is all about the glory. In fact, he paid double the fee to jump the queue. Not in it for the cash, this one! He wants a name for himself, and one way or another he’s going to get it. Here’s Quech and Vripiai!”

The curtain across the way parts. Quech is a big, broad-shouldered man, heavily muscled, with a scalp of peach-fuzz black stubble and a short goatee. Even at this distance, his eyes bore into mine, too sharp and intense to be entirely sane. He’s wearing a slick black coat, asymmetrically cut and falling to his thighs. Ky leans forward, grabbing my arm.

“Taj!” His voice booms around the arena, too, and his eyes never leave mine. “I’m hoping for a challenge, Taj. Don’t disappoint me!”

“That’s a Hod accent and a Hod coat,” Ky says into my ear. “Hod fighters don’t bring their runics down to Malkuth; there’s plenty of proper arenas back home. What the fuck is he playing at?”

Quech is accompanied by several other figures, similarly dressed and comporting themselves like bodyguards. They all squeeze to one side as the curtain splits again and Vripiai emerges.

A snake is my first thought. Not dissimilar to the Twisted that stabbed me in the leg what feels like ages ago. Aside from the basic body plan, though, the two have little in common. This is a true serpent rather than a centipede, without limbs. Each articulated body segment joins smoothly to the next, overlapping armor plates sliding across one another in an impressive display of precision engineering. The thing’s head flares out like a cobra’s hood, but it has a set of long jaws more like a wolf’s, with rows of inward-curving steel teeth designed to grab hold of something and not let go. A solid spike gleams at the tip of its tail.

It’s big, half again the size of the biggest opponent we’ve faced and three times as big as Star’s combat body. Just by the way it moves that massive bulk, I can tell the sigils inside it are high grade; yellow, maybe even green.

[Assessment: this will be difficult.]

I’m starting to think so. I lick my lips. Apart from the spike, all its weapons are in the head. You can get around behind it like all the rest.

[Caveat: apart from the spike.]

It’s too big to be very agile. You’ll be faster.

[Optimism: that is devoutly to be hoped.]

Be careful until we’ve got a better sense of what it can do.

[Obvious.]

“That sure fucking looks like a Hod runic,” Ky says. “This is a trap.”

“Maybe. But what choice have we got?” I take a deep breath. “Besides, isn’t the point of all this for us to fight Hod runics?”

“Not yet. We’re not ready!”

“I guess we’ll have to be.”

Star skitters down the ramp. Vripiai slithers forward at a lazy gesture from Quech, matching the sinuous grace of a real snake. Quech himself keeps staring at me; I wish I had one of those speaking constructs so I could tell him to fuck off. The crowd seems to agree with me; jeers and abuse rain down on these interlopers from a higher tier.

The bell rings. The snake lunges forward.