Page 109 of Blightfall

The crowd started to cheer, and I saw a flash of flags below us as the runner raced around the perimeter of the arena floor again, whipping the crowd into a frenzy.

“We don’t have time for this,” I said. “I’m going to start kicking people.”

I didn’t actually kick anyone, but I did elbow my way past Nedd and begin to aggressively squeeze my way through the crowd, my arms wrapped protectively around the slugs in my pack. I was doing a pretty good job of sheltering them until the announcer began to introduce the gladiators, one by one. The first row of people all jumped to their feet, and one of them threw their arms out in excitement, shoving my arm out of the way and hitting my pack right on the pocket.

One of the slugs squeaked, and I yelped to cover it up. The person who’d hit us—a woman with a child standing beside her on the bench, trying to climb up her side to see better—didn’t appear to notice. I brought my pack up closer to my face, squeezing past the others and ducking through a gap between the people who stood at the edge of the arena, cheering loudly.

“Look at that!” Nedd said behind me, and I turned to see two more scions being prodded out of a wagon and into the arena. The crowd was going wild—I doubted they’d ever seen a fight with five scions. Eight gladiators had arrived now. Dayan stood among them, holding both a light-whip and a short sword. As their name was announced, they raised both up over their head, posing for the crowd.

I hoped Dayan would be okay out there. It wouldn’t be easy to keep track of a battle with so many scions and so many competitors. If Dayan was killed during the fight, what then?

I wove through the last of the crowd, finding the stairwell right where Arturo said it would be. People were gathered at the top, several standing on the handrail to see better over the arena wall. I pressed myself to the opposite wall and slid past them, descending the stairs.

“All right, Hoid,” I whispered at my pack. “Give us some cover at the bottom of the stairs.”

We were relying on our verbal communication—I couldn’t communicate mind-to-mind with Hoid to give him an exact picture of what I wanted like Alanik could. As Nedd and I slipped through the door at the bottom of the stairs, we flattened ourselves against the wall, hoping that Hoid had an illusion up in front of us.

This room was filled with empty cages—the place where the injured scions had been kept. The scion handlers had retreated into the room and were hanging up the barbed spears they’d used to drive the scions through the tunnel to our right and onto the arena floor.

None of them looked up at us, which was promising. We slid along the wall until we reached the second set of stairs, and then we descended into the bowels of the arena.

At the bottom of the stairs, we came to the locked door Arturo and Alanik had broken through. Nedd pressed himself against the wall near the side of the door. Now out of sight of the humans upstairs, I dared step away to make sure Nedd was covered by an illusion. All I saw when I looked at him was a flat section of wall, so I stepped close again. I reached for the door handle, half hoping it would be open and we wouldn’t have to shoot the lock the way Arturo had.

But I had no sooner set my fingers on the door handle than it turned and the door opened, revealing a creepy, faceless varvax in a hooded robe. I didn’t know if it had heard us in the hall, or if they had installed some kind of alert system to let them know if anyone came down the stairs during the fight. Regardless, the thing was less than a meter away and had a pistol protruding from its sleeve.

I drew my hand quickly under the illusion, hoping the varvax hadn’t seen, but I was too late. The varvax stepped forward, running its hand along the wall where I’d disappeared, and grabbed onto my arm with smooth, cold fingers. The varvax hissed something, though the translator pin I’d brought in my bag was still turned off, so I had no idea what it said. Probably something along the lines of “Stop right there!” or “Intruders!” or “I will mop the shiny tile floors with your entrails, vile fiends!” Its pistol pivoted in my direction.

I did the only thing I could do. I aimed my own sidearm at the center of the robes where I knew the varvax would be housed in its strange suit, and fired.

The shot rang up the stairwell, and the varvax collapsed in the doorway, a sickly fluid leaking from the remains of its exoskeleton. Nedd and I ran through the doorway, escaping down the hall before the scion handlers could come to investigate. We pressed ourselves against the wall as two more varvax ran down the hallway past us. Camera drones followed behind them. Probably Ivy’s eyes, searching for us from the safety of the space station.

The scion handlers came partway down the stairs and yelled in surprise when they ended up face-to-face with the robed varvax. The handlers were speaking another language, though I didn’t know which one. One of the varvax began to speak to the handlers through a translator pin, the stilted voice telling them to go back up the stairs.

We didn’t stop to hear how the handlers reacted. Nedd and I hurried farther into the facility while Hoid blocked sight of us from the doorway. We found the next staircase Arturo and Alanik had described and took it to what must be the weapons room, though it was mostly empty, probably because the weapons were all in use above us in the arena. I could hear vibrations through the floor—the shouts of the crowd and Ivy’s booming voice, though I could only make out a few of her words.

“This way,” Nedd said, pressing his back against the doorway where the stairs led up again, toward the gate to Elysium. He held his pistol in front of him with his bio hand, peering around the doorframe. I slid against the wall beside him.

A few minutes later, two of the varvax returned, chittering in their harsh language. They passed through the weapons room and headed up the stairs to the gate.

I strained my ears, trying to make out Ivy’s commentary. We couldn’t be sure the gate was open until they called the gladiators to Elysium, but when it was, we’d make our move.

Thirty-Seven

Arturo

The arena was packed, everyone standing shoulder to shoulder. Alanik, Gilaf, and I couldn’t get seats, so we squished together in the aisle, pressed in on all sides by sweaty, cheering fans. I was glad we’d sent half the taynix with the other group—it was hard enough to shelter Suki from the crowd. Crammed in this close, there was no way we could talk to her without our neighbors wondering why our backpacks could speak.

Sadie and Nedd had disappeared down the stairwell that led beneath the arena. I hoped they wouldn’t meet too much resistance down there, but if they did, at least they were together. Alanik could still communicate with Bob and hyperjump our team if she needed to, though that would obviously draw varvax attention. And we didn’t know if the communication would work once Sadie and Nedd passed through the portal.

Ivy’s voice finished introducing the gladiators. Kalia Killcot was there, as well as a large guy with his chest and arms completely covered by a tattoo of a mighty scion. Its eyes stared out from his chest and wicked branches spiraled out over his shoulders and down his arms. I didn’t know if a scion could be intimidated by tattoos, but I sure would have been. He carried a massive axe in both hands, the handle nearly as tall as he was. He’d been introduced as Errol Executioner, which was a fitting name if I’d ever heard one.

“My money’s on that guy,” I said, nudging Alanik as Errol jumped down into the arena, and the other gladiators followed.

“Shouldn’t you be cheering for our ally?” Alanik whispered to me.

“I am,” I said. “But look at him!”

The gladiators all ran toward the scions. Dayan shot out in front of the pack, running up to one of the battle-scarred creatures and lassoing a top branch with their light-whip. Dayan hauled themself up into the branches, planting their feet and wrapping the whip around a nearby limb. The tree thrashed, but Dayan held on tight.