by Chris Fox
“It’s quite simple,” Astria explained. “All combatants are placed in a pre-defined arena. Your goal is to disable or kill all other combatants. When the combat is over, Virkonna chooses a winner.”
“Which is theoretically the last person standing.” Aran raised an eyebrow. “Couldn’t Virkonna choose a Wyrm anyway, even if I win?”
“She could,” Astria allowed. Some of the enthusiasm bled away. “I do not think she would, though, and even if she did all would know that a human had bested every Wyrm on our world.”
“Okay.” Aran rolled his shoulder, which still ached from yesterday’s workout. “Give me a bit to get suited up.”
“You will not be able to use your armor.”
Aran sighed. “Of course not. Can I use Narlifex?”
“Of course. Many Wyrms will fight in their bipedal form to increase the level of challenge. Aurelius will be one. Olyssa another. If they fought as full Wyrms they would crush their opponents, and there is little honor in that.”
“That makes me feel better, at least.” It didn’t, though. There would be a great deal of resistance to an Outrider entering the contest, and every Wyrm involved would have a common cause.
They would remove him before focusing on each other.
41
There Can Be Only One
Aran walked down the Talon’s ramp, his teeth chattering in the frigid wind. He’d set down near the spire Virkonna had claimed, the remains of a mountain peak at the edge of the crater she’d created when clawing her way free of the earth.
Hundreds of supplicants were clustered around the base of the spire, where they were met by white-robed acolytes who sorted them into different groups. From what Aran could see the line was only getting larger, and he seriously doubted that any of those people were ever going to make it up to see Virkonna.
High above, dozens of hatchlings drifted in lazy flights, all orbiting the top of the spire where their elders would be mingling and likely playing Kem’Hedj.
Aran channeled a bit of fire to warm himself, and his teeth stopped chattering. He walked down the ramp to Astria, who stood by herself. The rest of the company had volunteered to accompany him, but Aran saw no reason for them to leave the warmth of the ship. The contest wasn’t to the death, so there wasn’t anything to get worked up about. Theoretically, at least.
“I thought you were going to bring your Outriders,” he called, his voice nearly ripped away by the wind.
“I did,” she called back gravely. Her expression was as dour as ever, visible only because her cowl had been pulled back. “Not a one is willing to risk themselves publicly. For good reason. Aurelius put it about that any Outrider who stood for you would be exiled, alongside their families.”
Aran wrapped a hand around Narlifex’s hilt, and forced a long, slow breath. He’d dearly love to hit something, though he knew it wouldn’t help. It took two more breaths to push the frustration away, and he only spoke once he had.
“Then why are we doing this?” he asked quietly. “If your own people don’t believe in this, why antagonize a goddess?”
“Because if you succeed,” she gave back without hesitation, “then children born tomorrow will know that a human can become a god.”
Aran released Narlifex’s hilt, and the anger evaporated. She was right. The people were afraid, because they should be. Humans were less than dragons, and when your god made you literal second-class citizens, what kind of message did that send to your children?
The best you could hope for was to be a loyal hunting dog, not so very different from how Xal intended to use him. It wasn’t right. People deserved better. They deserved freedom, and to stand as equals if they were to fight as equals.
“So how do we do this?” Aran asked, staring up the three-kilometer length of the spire.
“We follow them to the killing field,” Astria explained. She raised a slender hand and pointed to a field to the west. “Virkonna will arrange it to her liking, and then she will allow the melee to begin. After she creates the field, but before she allows the fight to begin, you must get her attention and request that she allow you entry.”
Aran was about to ask a follow-up question when deafening thunder cracked across the plains and mountains, drowning out any possibility of speech. Lightning veined across the sky in all directions, every bolt coming from the peak above.
A single tiny figure jetted into the air, no larger than a human. Behind her came dozens of Wyrms, the largest in the front. Aurelius’s wingspan was easily a hundred meters, and behind him came Olyssa’s nearly equal bulk. In their wake came smaller Wyrms—a dozen, followed by more.
Aran counted twenty-two in all, and assumed that since they were flying after Virkonna, they must be the ones who’d be involved in the fight to be named guardian.
“Shall we?” He used a bit of void to lighten himself, then air to guide himself into the sky. It was more costly, magically speaking, than using his spellarmor, but still a trivial act.
His recent brush with Xal and Krox had dramatically increased his reserves, and Aran still hadn’t found a daily limit to the number of spells he could cast. Today would be the first real physical contest since he’d gotten the abilities, though.
Plus, he was fighting some of the largest adult Wyrms on the planet. They could bring their own magic to bear, and it might be greater than his. As arrogant as it sounded, even in his own head, Aran doubted it. He was stronger than any mere Wyrm.
That is not arrogance, Narlifex protested. We are strong. We do not age as they do. We are a breed apart.
That piqued Aran’s curiosity. Had he passed some sort of divine threshold that meant he no longer aged? The blade seemed to think so.
“Brother?” Astria called over the wind as she pulled even with him. She’d pulled her cowl up, and the white fabric fluttered around her as they picked up speed. “You do not seem at all concerned by this fight. Why is that? Does the prospect of doing battle with Aurelius not frighten you?”
“No,” he realized aloud, yelling to make himself heard over the wind, “it doesn’t. Not because I think I’ll win, but because my pride isn’t on the line. So what if he beats me?”
“I see you do not yet understand. Look.” Astria pointed, and Aran followed her finger with his gaze.
Virkonna had stopped over a relatively intact portion of the plain near her spire. She raised both hands, and bolts of lightning stabbed down in rapid succession. They slammed into the plain, their strikes so numerous that they carpeted the earth. The ground heated, and within moments topsoil melted, then the granite underneath. The entire plain became a field of lava.
“Virkonna loves her games. She will set the terms of this one, and tell all combatants.”
“Couldn’t you have mentioned this part?” Aran watched in a mixture of horror and amazement as hunks of lava drifted up into the air.
They assembled themselves into a mirror of the solar system, with the largest hunk of lava representing the sun. It was easily six or seven kilometers across, while the hunk representing Virkon was smaller than Aurelius.
“Ages ago this system housed a colossal battle,” Virkonna’s clear voice echoed over the plains, as clear as if whispered into his ear. “My brother Inura and I fought to claim this world from one of the last demon lords. His forces flooded the system, innumerable and implacable. They were many, and we few, yet every one of us was a god in our own right.”
Countless globs of earth rose into the sky, and the wind shaped them into monstrous shapes of all sizes. Some were tiny, no bigger than Aran’s fist. Others were twice Aurelius’s size.
“Today we will re-enact that great battle. All supplicants for guardian will defend Virkon.” She gestured at the representation of her world, and that hunk of rock began to glow a bright azure. “The demons come. Defeat them and each other. Claim Virkon, and let none bar you from it.”
Astria floated a little higher than Aran, and lowered her cowl. Her hair whipped around her
like a sea of dark snakes. “Now is the time, brother. You must intervene!”
“Here goes, then.” He nodded at her, which seemed more fitting than a hug, and then Aran willed void to carry him aloft. He streaked skyward like a meteor reversing course, and rose toward the edge of the three-dimensional map Virkonna had created.
By the time he reached the goddess every eye was on him, both the Wyrms and the humans clustered around the base of the spire so many kilometers below.
Now that Aran was close to Virkonna he was able to see what she looked like, and she wasn’t what he expected. Like Olyssa, she was bipedal, with wings and a tail. Tiny scales covered her body, but where her eyes should be there were only pools of intense blue radiance. Pure air.
Like Nebiat and Kheross, she possessed a full head of hair, though. Hers was a mixture of snowy white and azure blue, a color which rippled and changed against the sky behind her. Her hair sat still against her, completely untouched by the gale winds only a few meters away.
Only in that moment did Aran realize why his mind had supplied Kheross as a comparison. The Wyrm had lived on the Talon for months, and Aran recognized him instantly, standing in midair behind Virkonna. His arms were crossed, and there was no sign of his spellaxes. Apparently he wasn’t fighting today.
Aran gave Kheross a nod, and Kheross returned it. Nothing more needed to be said.
“You’ve clearly sought to disrupt these proceedings,” Virkonna called imperiously. She drifted closer to Aran and her eyes narrowed. “And I am aware of who you are, Outrider. What is your intent, and could it not wait for a more opportune moment?” Curiosity softened the anger, though Aran sensed the balance could shift at any moment. Virkonna was as changeable as the wind.
“I’ve come to enter the contest for your favor,” Aran called, using the ritual greeting he’d been taught. “You will choose a guardian, the strongest on this planet. That’s me, and I want a chance to prove it.”
“An Outrider?” Aurelius scoffed, his laughter booming like thunder.
“Even one as accomplished as you would fare poorly,” Olyssa offered, a flap of her enormous wings bringing her closer to Aran. “You have earned much honor, but this is not the way, Outrider. Stand down, before you lose face, and possibly your life.”
“I don’t care about losing face,” Aran pointed out. He met Aurelius’s slitted gaze, and then Olyssa’s. Virkonna hadn’t said anything further, which suggested she wanted him to fend for himself. He could do that. “My life is mine to do with as I will, and I choose to risk it here. I will win your contest, and by the end you’ll realize that a human is more powerful than any of your children.”
Many Wyrms began to laugh, but that laughter was silenced when Virkonna raised a clawed hand. “The Outrider may fight.” She lowered her hand with a dramatic flourish. “Let the battle begin.”
42
Sky Brawl
Aran shot skyward the instant Virkonna’s claw came down. He twisted around one of the outer ‘planets’, which still glowed an angry molten orange as it rotated past him. Swarms of demons shot up all around him, though most of the living rock constructs plunged deeper into the system, toward the representation of Virkon.
The Wyrms reacted almost as one, each winging up to defend that planet. It was a stable, predictable strategy. Get between your opponent and their target. Unfortunately, defending a single point in three-dimensional space was difficult when your opponents were attacking from many directions at once.
Wards sprang up around miniature Virkon, and Wyrms breathed bolts of lightning to surgically remove larger targets, while swiping at smaller ones with their claws or tail. Aurelius and Olyssa both fared well in the initial rush, but not all the Wyrms were so lucky.
Magma demons swarmed around those fighting alone, and quickly engulfed them. The first Wyrm’s body tumbled end over end toward the lava below, and Aran glanced around frantically but no one was making a move to save the unconscious creature.
Aran shot toward the Wyrm and wrapped a tendril of air around the creature’s tail. He used gravity to lighten its body, and flung it gently behind the bounds of the lava. The dragon might not enjoy the landing, but at least it would be alive to complain about it.
He glanced back at the combat, and could no longer see any dragons. Virkonna’s demons swirled around the planet she’d erected, where Aran assumed the dragons must be. That was confirmed when another body tumbled out of the swarm, and another.
Virkonna did nothing, merely hovered in the sky watching. She made no move to save the fallen Wyrms, and seemed utterly oblivious to their potential deaths.
Rage rolled through Aran.
Why are you so angry? Narlifex asked, his confusion evident. We should join the killing. The fallen have no one but themselves to blame. They chose this.
Aran extended both hands, and used gravity to seize each Wyrm as it fell from the cloud around Virkon. One by one he got them to safety, though it meant avoiding combat completely. Perhaps for that reason the demons ignored him, and instead focused on the surviving defenders.
Neither Olyssa nor Aurelius had tumbled free, so they were probably forming the center points of the resistance.
Aran quickly realized that playing a reactive game wasn’t going to win this battle. There were thousand of demons, most smaller than him, all attacking at once. He needed to neutralize them, and do it in a way that wouldn’t kill the dragons.
He flew up a few dozen meters, and surveyed the system. The ‘sun’ still glowed an angry red, and dwarfed everything in the system. If this were a real battle that would be the largest source of gravity in the system.
Aran darted down toward the sun, and extended a hand toward the cloud of demons obscuring the vision of tiny Virkon and whatever defenders might still be alive.
We fight now? Narlifex pulsed hopefully. The blade so badly wanted to kill.
“Sorry, bud.” Aran gritted his teeth and reached deep into the well of void in his chest. “This is going to take something a lot more broad than swordplay.”
Aran extended the gravity magic toward the makeshift sun, and pulled a tendril of molten rock away from the core. He added fire to keep it heated, something he wouldn’t have had to do with matter from a real sun, and wove that rock toward the cloud of demons.
The molten rock slammed into them, pulling most of the demons away in a shower of magma. Aran yanked them back toward the sun, and flung all the demons he’d collected into the blazing ball.
The reduction in attackers allowed Aurelius to make a push, which Olyssa quickly supported. The two flew back to back, picking off demons as they cleared a space around the planet. Only a handful of other Wyrms still flew, and most were visibly wounded. One had a shattered wing, and was only aloft through the use of air magic.
“Okay, now you get to show off.” Aran unsheathed Narlifex and flew toward the combat. He surged fire to increase his strength, and air to become more agile.
Then Aran became one with the combat, as Drakkon had taught him. He flowed through the battle, Narlifex darting out in quick strikes, the shards at the end of the blade exploding into furious death that shredded every demon it touched.
Aran forced a path through the remaining demons, twisting around answering blows as he made for the blue rock Virkonna had created to represent her world. He became one with the blade, and time itself seemed to blur.
How long he killed he didn’t know, but suddenly it was over. The last demon was down.
Aurelius’s form swept toward him, and human-sized claws slashed toward his face. Aran used a bit of void to blink down about twenty meters, under Aurelius’s blow…and into a lightning bolt fired by a large white Wyrm he didn’t recognize.
The bolt caught him in the back, and the magic played through him, causing his muscles to seize. Had he not been naturally resistant to air from the gifts Virkonna had given him, Aran doubted he’d have survived the breath weapon.
As it was his shirt burned away, and s
econd-degree burns made his back a sea of fire. Adrenaline made the pain bearable, but only just. He blinked again, this time behind the Wyrm who’d attacked him.
Aran flung Narlifex toward the creature’s back, directly over the heart. He channeled his rage into pure void, and increased the sword’s weight a thousandfold. The weapon punched through the creature’s heart, and its body fluttered weakly toward the lava below, blood spurting from the wound.
Narlifex ripped free from the creature’s body and shot back into Aran’s hand even as he touched down on the blue rock Virkonna had demanded the victor hold.
Looking around only Aurelius and Olyssa remained. A few demons survived, but whenever one approached either Wyrm it was ruthlessly crushed.
“Come, cousin,” Aurelius roared as he swung his massive head in Olyssa’s direction. “Let us tear apart the mortal, and then give this farce the only end it could have ever had.”
“There is no honor in that,” she snapped. Olyssa’s form rippled and changed, until she stood in her human form a few dozen meters from Aran. “You pride yourself on your skill as a blade master. Do you really think yourself unable to best an Outrider in such a contest? He has proven himself this day, as I expect Mother will agree. You owe him your respect.”
Aurelius’s slitted eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer. Finally he looked directly at Aran. “I am accounted the finest swordsman this world has ever—”
Aran was kind of done.
Today had shown him something. He wasn’t mortal any more. He wasn’t playing by the same rules. The level of magic Aran had been gifted, and the magic he’d stolen, had elevated him far beyond some stupid, petty Wyrms. No matter how old those stupid, petty Wyrms might be.
Aurelius’s tail, arms, and legs were suddenly crushed against his body. Aran lifted a hand, and tightened it into a fist. The Wyrm’s long neck scrunched inward as his massive body was forced into a fetal position. The magic was frighteningly easy to maintain.
