Page 47 of Blightfall

Kalia and Timon had almost reached the scion, but Dayan hung back. They climbed up on one of the fallen trees, held their staff aloft, and then flicked their wrist in a whipping motion. Three light-lines shot out of the end of the weapon, cracking through the air.

Oh.

“Wait, wait,” Nedd said. “One of them gets a metal sword and the other gets a light-whip? I want to change my vote.”

Neither of those weapons would be first on my list when facing a tree, but what did I know?

The cheering died down as the crowd focused on the action, and the man in front of us turned around. “They choose their own weapons,” he said in accented English. “Timon is trying to get a preponderance of severed branches for the bonus. Can’t sever a limb with a light-whip.”

“Oh,” Nedd said. “Thanks.”

Arturo shot him a look. We weren’t supposed to draw attention, but the guy in front of us didn’t seem to think anything of it. I never watched digball back home, but it seemed asking stupid questions about sports wasn’t a dead giveaway that we were from another planet. Besides, Arturo had said back on the street that I was allowed to ask questions.

“Hey,” I said, tapping the guy on the shoulder. “Can you tell me why Kalia chose her weapon?”

“I think you’re about to see,” the man said, turning back to the match.

Kalia approached the scion, parrying branches as the thing reached for her. The thick bases of the branches moved slowly where they connected to the trunk, so the scion flung them in a whipping motion, lashing the thinner tips at Kalia, pummeling the flat handle of her spear.

While she distracted it, Timon approached from the other side with his sword, swinging it with both hands at the rear branches, lopping off one as thick as his arm with one swipe.

The crowd cheered, and the scion twisted, flinging more branches at Timon, who stumbled backward to avoid being tossed. His smaller weapon was clipped to the waistband of his shorts, though he hadn’t used it yet. Kalia took that opportunity to duck close to the trunk and stab her shock spear through the bark. The area around her erupted in sparks, and the scion convulsed, momentarily stunned.

Timon rallied, driving forward with his sword, but Kalia grabbed the branch he’d severed and threw it at him, forcing him to dodge back again.

“It seems like they’d be more effective if they worked together,” Nedd said.

Alanik gave him a horrified look. “They are competing. They can’t help each other win.”

“Sure,” Nedd said, “but which is most important? Beating each other or surviving the scion?”

Dayan appeared to prioritize survival. They worked their way closer, letting Kalia and Timon fight it out, until the scion, fleeing Timon’s blows, tumbled over to the carcass where they were perched. Then Dayan drew back their light-whip and lashed it toward the base of the top branches. The strands of light tangled there, anchoring the whip, and Dayan pulled on it, launching themself onto the scion’s branches and holding on for dear life.

Oh—Dayan wasn’t a conservative fighter after all. They’d only been waiting for an opportunity. The scion bucked and tossed, flailing at Dayan in an attempt to dislodge them. They crouched low to avoid being whacked, rolling with the shifting center of gravity and trying to stay on.

The crowd began to chant, counting the seconds that Dayan remained on top of the writhing tree. Meanwhile Timon cut off three more branches on the scion’s left side, and Kalia stabbed toward the trunk again.

Her spear connected, and the scion trembled as another current of energy ran through it. Dayan’s body jerked back as the shock hit them, and they flew from the top of the scion, landing in the dirt.

Wow. The competitors really weren’t worried about hurting each other.

The scion dragged itself backward by its branches, then lifted its trunk into the air. It stabbed toward Dayan, and they rolled to the side, barely avoiding being impaled.

“Stars,” Arturo said, “one of them is going to get killed.”

That seemed pretty likely. The competitors didn’t appear to be out to kill each other, but the scion wasn’t holding back.

“Is this what the games are like where you’re from?” Arturo whispered to Alanik.

“No,” she said. “People die sometimes, but it is very rare. We have rules to protect our athletes.”

That made sense. The sports leagues on ReDawn flew starfighters through complicated maneuvers. If they tried to kill each other, they’d lose a lot of skilled pilots and valuable spacecraft. Our sports leagues used hoverbikes with small acclivity rings. The competitors weren’t as protected as pilots in starships, but they also didn’t go nearly as fast.

Dayan was back on their feet, circling the scion, clearly searching for an opening to jump back on top. They weren’t going to kill the scion that way, so there must be some kind of point system that rewarded riding the scion for long periods of time. Dayan found a gap and jumped on top again. They lasted longer this time before the scion dislodged them with a flung branch. They used the light-whip to pull themself to safety on a nearby log.

“That looks like fun,” I said.

“Sadie,” Arturo said, “if we encounter another of those things in the wild, you are specifically ordered not to try to ride it.”