Seventeen
The door opens.
The noise, which I’d thought loud before, doubles again. In addition to the roar of hundreds of people shouting at the top of their lungs, there’s a voice that seems too loud and deep to be human speaking over the pandemonium.
“Tonight’s challenger!” it says, and I recognize Venci’s cadences. She must be using sigwork to project her words. “A true underdog, hoping to work his way up from nothing! Will this be his first step on the road to glory, or has he run into a dead end? Please welcome Taj and Star!”
Everyone’s shouting, but I can’t make out any of it. Even Star seems to be cringing. Ky gives me an encouraging nod, and Weslai makes shooing motions. I climb a short set of stairs and pass through a ratty curtain.
Venci’s pit takes up the whole building, twenty meters across and four stories high.
We’re on a circular walk above the pit proper, a sunken circle ringed by a tall metal fence.
Around and above us, spectators press up against more fences on the second, third, and fourth levels, the central gap narrowing in imitation of the tiered city until those highest up are looking almost straight down into the arena.
Every available square centimeter of viewing space is packed; there are even children clinging to the fences like monkeys above the heads of the adults, their high-pitched screams adding a soprano counterpoint to the roar.
In front of me there’s a small platform that extends out over the pit, with a gate and a ramp leading down. This, apparently, is where I’m supposed to stand during the fight. Star scuttles forward, and I follow. Once we come into view of the crowd, we start getting jeers. I fight the urge to wave.
“Facing them,” Venci booms, “a fighter who you all should know by now. A competitor as vicious as she is beautiful, swelling her pot with win after win. Still king after twelve fights, it’s Lorrimer and Mordax!”
The jeers turn to screams of approval. Lorrimer comes through the curtain first, a woman with dirty blond hair that hangs low across her face like a curtain, leaving only a slight gap in front of one eye.
It’s an odd look, but I don’t have much time to contemplate it, because my attention is riveted on the runic that emerges behind her.
Mordax. It’s twice Star’s size, wide-framed and four-legged, with an upper trunk at the front like a centaur’s sporting four bladed limbs.
There’s no head; the primary optics gleam in the center of the trunk, and secondaries run down either flank.
It looks mean, covered in articulated plates painted a deep, bloody red and marred with the scratches of fights past. Spikes and flanges with no obvious purpose stud its shoulders and sweep back from its flanks.
I suddenly appreciate why Venci and Weslai were unimpressed by Star. Compared to this thing, he seems… plain. Workmanlike, like a battered set of overalls beside a tailored uniform. I’ve never thought about painting him. Why bother? It isn’t like the Twisted are going to be intimidated.
[Observation: that runic is very large.]
I noticed.
[Further: much larger than me.]
Yeah, I got it.
[Unacceptable: I consider this a failure on your part.]
If I made you any bigger, I wouldn’t have been able to carry you up here. Not to mention that would require more sigils. I’d stretched Weslai’s advance as far as I could. Are you scared?
[Affront: obviously not.]
Then let’s do this.
Star scrapes two of his legs together with a noise like tzing, shedding a shower of sparks.
He scuttles through the gate and down the ramp to the pit floor.
Lorrimer mutters something, utterly inaudible under the noise of the crowd.
There’s something on her throat that gleams with sigwork.
I’m guessing it carries her voice to the runic, because Mordax starts forward, prancing down the ramp with a strangely dainty gait.
“Will the champion continue her reign of terror?” Venci calls out. “Or will we see an upset for the ages? Are you ready?!”
The crowd’s roar rises to a crescendo, like a spike of pain in my ears. Venci’s wild laughter cuts through it, followed by a deep bong like a bell the size of a mountain.
“Begin!”
Let it come to you, I send. We have to figure out what we’re dealing with.
[Acknowledged.]
Lorrimer is speaking to Mordax, giving rapid-fire instructions. The big centauroid construct comes straight forward, four arms spread wide like the jaws of a trap. It seems like too simple of an approach, offering its broad chest as a target.
Don’t go for it. A head-on counterattack is clearly what Lorrimer anticipates. Get out to one side.
Star is clearly already thinking the same thing.
He drifts to the right and scuttles back and away just as Mordax comes into range.
All four of the centauroid’s limbs snap inward, exactly as I’d imagined, in a move that would have hugged any attacking runic to the thing’s chest. Star’s dodge puts him outside the cage, skittering off to one side in a blur of legs.
Lorrimer mutters, and Mordax starts to turn to face him, clumsily repositioning one leg at a time.
It’s slow enough that I suspect another trap; surely the champion has to move better than this?
When it’s lined up, Mordax lunges. It’s fast but easy to spot coming, and I don’t even need to give Star a warning. He leaps to one side again, letting Mordax’s momentum carry it nearly to the pit wall.
The crowd’s roar is starting to turn to jeers. I look over my shoulder to find Venci coming up behind me on the platform, the tails of her coat sparkling. She’s wearing a construct on her throat, like Lorrimer, and she touches it with one finger as she approaches. Its sigil-light dims.
“I told you to put on a show,” she shouts in my ear, without the booming amplification. “Not waste everyone’s time. No tip if you can’t even put a scratch on the champ.”
I give her a tight smile and turn back to the fight. Mordax has gotten turned around again, and Star shuffles back and forth, gauging the distance.
Okay. Try to go for it from behind after you dodge.
[Finally.]
The big centauroid comes on again. The same motion, the same widespread arms. It’s simple, predictable, just like the little runics in the street matches. A Twisted this size would be a hundred times more dangerous.
Star gives a showier dodge this time, flipping end over end on his reversible limbs. He scuttles back, then surges forward, coming in fast toward Mordax’s rump.
Beside me, Venci is smiling.
Watch—
The big runic lifts its back half into the air, balancing on its front legs, and kicks.
Star, already committed to the attack, can’t evade; he takes one broad foot on the rim of his body, tossing him back like a flung discus to carom off the pit wall and roll over and over in the dust. Sparks from popped sigils train behind him.
The crowd roars approval, and I can just see Lorrimer’s grin through her curtain of hair.
Shit. Star is still for a moment, then his legs twitch. You okay?
[Assessment: minor damage. One leg moving slow, lowered armor integrity. Addendum: ow.]
“The champion shows his stuff!” Venci is still standing behind me, but her voice now booms from all over. “But it looks like the challenger is still coming!”
[Suggestion: perhaps a frontal approach would be preferable.]
I don’t… think so. I’ve been watching the way Mordax moves. Hind legs first, and a bit… Hang on.
[Observation: time is short.] Mordax is turning for another charge.
I’m trying to think. Something is tugging at me, some bit of intuition.
Fighting runics isn’t like fighting Twisted.
Not just because the runics are slower and simpler.
Runics have a core, a foundation sigil, and that’s a single point of failure—break that, and they’ll shut down entirely.
It’s as true of Star as any of them; while his ruby THINK may be indestructible, the wire that connects it with the rest of him isn’t.
Tear it free and his body is just so much metal and clay.
For that reason I’d put his core at the very center of his body, behind as much armor as possible. Simple enough. But in a design like Mordax, where would the core go? In the trunk with the arms? That would minimize lag to the fighting limbs, but…
Then I smile and silently compliment Lorrimer on her design. It’s a good trick. But it’s not going to work this time.
If you came at it sideways, do you think you could avoid that kick?
[Speculation: probably. I would have to stay low.]
Try that. See if you can get a hit along its belly.
Mordax charges. Star evades. This time as soon as he’s clear of the fighting arms he changes direction and closes with his opponent.
Lorrimer shouts something and Mordax rears up again, twisting and kicking out.
Instead of jumping, Star flattens himself, slipping under the flailing feet.
He jabs two long blades into Mordax’s belly with a scream of twisting metal and a spray of sparks.
Then he’s out again, skidding to a halt on the other side of the pit.
“A hit!” Venci shouts. “Score one for the challenger! How will the champ respond?”
Mordax is still moving, but I can see some effects from the damage. One of its four fighting arms is drooping, which confirms my suspicions.
The core is in the back half, I send to Star.
That’s why it comes in dumb. An opponent who met that charge head-on—as I’d seen many runics do in the street fights—would find itself tearing frantically at a trunk that’s mostly armor and spars.
All the important pieces, the core and the movement sigils, are in the “horse” part of the centaur.
It makes for slower reaction times, but provides the ability to absorb an enormous amount of damage in a straight-on contest of strength.
That must be the dominant style of fighting, and this is a clever adaptation; pity for Lorrimer, then, to draw an opponent who has no idea what he’s doing.
I explain all this to Star, and I can sense his indignation.
[Irritation: it’s like fighting a hand puppet. Very undignified.]
I agree. My grin spreads farther. So get in there and dismantle that thing.
[Gladly.]
Once again, Mordax charges. Its specialized design means it can do little else.
Star backs up, gauges the distance, and gets clear with a single leap.
His legs dig into the pit floor, moving far faster than his bulky opponent can manage.
Lorrimer is shouting frantically and her runic tries its kick, but Star sees it coming easily.
He slips underneath and bounces up, six legs digging into Mordax’s painted flanks while his front two slash viciously into the thing’s belly.
Mordax bucks, backward and forward, twisting to try to rid itself of this unwelcome passenger.
But Star is impossible to dislodge, and red and orange sparks start to shower down around him.
Lorrimer screams and the crowd roars in disbelief as Mordax’s legs give way.
The champion stiffens and topples sideways with the momentum of a collapsing building, and Star jumps neatly away and lands on his feet.
He takes a shallow bow as his opponent twitches and sparks.
Venci is staring goggle-eyed at the arena. I pat her firmly on the shoulder.
“Guess I won’t be needing that tip.”