Page 64 of The Only Way Out Is Up

The weapon emerges from Star’s underside and he leaps toward Vripiai, putting himself as close as possible to the snake. I concentrate, and feel the familiar tug. Power flashes in a burst like a sigil popping. Lightning erupts across Vripiai, running the length of the giant snake in crackling pulses. The energy seems to slow it, and Star instantly moves to take advantage, charging blade-first.

But before the lightning has even died away, the snake’s head snaps out, abruptly showing no hesitation at all. Its bite snatches Star out of the air, pinning his carapace between wickedly sharp teeth. Star’s legs scrabble, tearing great rents in the sides of Vripiai’s face, but the giant runic refuses to let go.

“Was that your big play, Taj?” Quech says, his enhanced voice ringing in my ears. “The trump card you’ve been holding back? Please.” Vripiai’s jaws close another few centimeters, sparks showering out of Star as his sigils collapse. “This is a real runic, not your half-assed junk-heap trash. You’re not going to beat him with street-runic tricks.” Another crunch. One of Star’s optics shatters. Quech meets my eye again and shakes his head.

“Pathetic,” he says. “I expected better. Foolish of me, I know.”

Star’s body collapses in a brilliant shower of sparks.

TWENTY-TWO

Star!

[Assessment: ow.]

A knot inside me relaxes. I know his foundation sigil is indestructible, but I still feel a jolt of worry every time I watch him get mangled. The relief doesn’t last, though, because our other problems are rapidly closing in.

“Unbelievable!” Venci says. Her voice sounds shaky. “After seventeen consecutive wins, the champion has fallen! Vripiai is the new king of the pit!”

“As if I would lower myself,” Quech cuts in. “Go back to your little games.”

The snake opens its mouth, letting Star’s crushed remains fall to the arena floor. The crowd boos. Up on the top floor, where the snake’s tail punched a hole in the fence, someone hurls a glass bottle through. It tumbles down, catching the lights, and shatters into glittering shards on the pit floor.

“We have to go,” Ky says, but her voice sounds dead.

“I have to get Star.” I move to the ramp, now raised and blocking access to the pit. It shudders when I give it a shove.

“You want to scavenge? Now?” She shakes her head, then hisses and puts a hand against her scalp. “They’re coming to kill us, Taj! Let’s go.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“He’s just a runic! You built him once, you can build him again!”

“You don’t understand.”

“Taj!”

Venci’s echoing voice is trying to convince the spectators to leave, but they’re not happy about it. Some of them are shaking the fences, adding a rhythmic creak and groan of metal to the roar of many voices. In the gallery the knots of thugs are moving toward us, pushing their way through the angry crowd. I catch a glimpse of a tall, thin man in a coat that looks too fine for Malkuth—Gestian? Ky is frantic, tears at the corners of her eyes, grabbing my arm.

Down in the arena Quech has his arms out, drinking in the hate of the crowd with a broad smile. Vripiai remains coiled over Star’s body, its head swaying gently to and fro as if to invisible music.

“I’m getting Star!” I shout, barely audible above the bedlam. At the same time, I lean back and give the ramp a kick with all my weight behind it. The mechanism gives way and it rattles down to the pit floor. My boots echo on the metal as I pound toward Star.

[Apologies: I cannot see much. But this seems dangerous.]

I’m getting you and getting out of here.

[Agreement: an excellent course of action.]

Star’s body is mangled, a mess of shredded armor and smashed internal parts. The hatches that give access to his core are hopelessly bent and jammed, but I can see the fitful ruby gleam of his foundation sigil through the gaps. I jam my boot into the widest rent, trying to push it open farther.

It widens a couple of centimeters, but I still can’t see the ruby sigil. Swearing violently, I kneel beside the wreck and jam my arm in. I know Star’s internal architecture better than the back of my hand. Even mangled, I can feel my way through. Broken bits of metal and wire leave bloody scratches on my skin.

“Taj!” Ky grabs my shoulder. I glance back and see a mass of thugs on our platform, the tall man I spotted earlier out in front. They’re watching us from the top of the ramp, confident we have nowhere to go.

Nearly there. I worm my fingers through the shattered ring of sigils around the all-important ruby THINK. A busted spar digs into my forearm just as my fingers brush the prize. I can’t quite grab it. Another couple of centimeters. Deep breath.

I jam my arm in. The spar punches through my skin until it scrapes bone. I twist Star’s sigil free of the threading wire and start trying to extricate myself. Pain crashes in on me, and I have to grit my teeth not to scream.