“He’s fighting well,” Cirayus commented, though which combatant he was referring to, Vir could only guess.
“As it stands, I’d say Rosh is losing,” Vir said. “He’s given up ground, and his back is to the wall. He shouldn’t have let himself get pushed so much.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Watch.”
The wolves continued to harass the giant while Malak took pot shots. Regardless of Roshan’s Bairan defenses, several attacks drew blood, causing small wounds all over the giant’s body.
“And there it is,” Cirayus said. “Malak’s signature move. Given a choice, he’ll always push a battle longer. The longer it goes, the more superficial wounds he can inflict.”
The wolves lunged just as they had countless times, but this time, Roshan struck back, kicking off one of the wolves and sacrificing his forearm to the other. Its fangs sunk into his skin, and Vir winced. That had to have been painful, as the commentators happily announced.
Except, instead of wrenching the beast off, he spun, taking the wolf with him.
Malak desperately commanded his wolf, but it was too late. Rosh spun faster and faster until the wolf could hold on no longer.
Unfortunately, by the time it let go, its momentum had built to such a level that it flew high into the air… and landed on its paws well outside the stage, immediately disqualifying it.
Malak gave it an order to stand down, which it obeyed, and now it was two on one.
Except Roshan had already made his next move. While Malak was commanding his outed wolf to stay quiet, the giant rapidly closed the distance, and for the first time in the fight, put his opponent on the defensive.
The smaller demon fought well, but with only one wolf to aid him, he was quickly pushed back, until it was now he who stood at the edge of the stage.
Then, when Malak and his wolf mounted a synchronized attack, the giant dropped his katar, grabbed the wolf with both hands, spun, and hurled Malak’s own beast back to him.
They collided in a heap, and before Malak could recover, Roshan’s blade was at his neck.
“Winner! Roshaaan of Bairaaaa!”
“What a fight, Nakin. The way Rosh guided the fight…”
“That was amazing!” Aida cut in, and Vir could almost see the stars in her eyes. She’d been on the edge of her seat the whole time.
“Well?” Cirayus asked. “What did you think?”
“I think Rosh is much more dangerous than you give him credit for,” Vir said. “He had that fight in his hand the whole time.”
The demon was not only strong; he remained composed while under pressure. Which made him far more formidable in Vir’s mind. There was little doubt he’d continue to win his matches in similar fashion.
“Aye, the lad’s grown some, I must admit. He fought well. But dropping his weapon to showboat like that—can’t say I approve.”
“Really?” Vir gave Cirayus the most incredulous look he could muster, but to his dismay, his godfather didn’t take the bait.
They watched more fights over the next couple of hours, and Vir couldn’t help but notice that Aida paid special attention anytime a Bairan was up. It was more than just the thrill of a clansman’s fight, though. She was watching to learn. Trying to absorb whatever technique she could from those with similar physique.
Aida might not have been a formidable warrior now, but if she persisted on the same track, she absolutely would be someday.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Vir said, rising from his seat. “I have a friend to wish well.”
“Tell her to kick ass!” Cirayus shouted after him, and Vir waved in reply.
Vir found the Naga as she headed down the hall to the waiting area.
“Looks like I caught you. Good!”
“Vaak? What are you doing here?” Tara was clad in her full black metal armor that covered her chest, upper arms, thighs, and head—functional yet elegant. It was armor that spoke to a fast, agile style of combat.
“What else? Wishing you good luck,” Vir said.
“That’s, erm… Very kind of you,” she replied awkwardly. “But unnecessary. I’ll wipe the floor with this Bairan. So sit back and watch. It’ll be quite the show.”
Vir chuckled. “I suppose I should’ve known better than to assume you’d need any encouragement.”
Tara’s eyes softened, and she smiled softly. “Not at all. It means a lot, actually.”
Vir grinned. “Glad to hear it. I admit I have some mixed feelings about the outcome of this battle, but regardless… kick some ass.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” the Naga replied with a vicious—and somewhat feral—grin. “It’ll be over before you get back to your seat.”
98
CLANDESTINE GATHERINGS (PART ONE) (MAIYA)
As Maiya had told Yamal and Bheem, organizing a meeting with Riyan Savar wasn’t as simple as sending a runner and arranging a meeting point. She supposed they ought to have been thankful that Savar didn’t send their runner’s head on a platter, but the note he’d brought back was quite clear—anymore and heads would start to fly.
Plus, this was Riyan. Maiya knew how his mind worked. To him, Kin’jal was the enemy. It didn’t matter who ran it. Or at least, that was his current, overly limited mindset.
It was Maiya’s goal to… broaden his mind. Via any means necessary. Not that she’d resort to combat. Even if she could beat him—which, while she’d certainly be more evenly matched than she was before—it’d accomplish nothing.
They needed Riyan on their side. Totally and completely.
The logic of the matter was sound—that part wouldn’t be hard. But would she get past his bullheadedness and convince him that this was in Hiranya and Kin’jal’s best interests?
That was another matter entirely.
Which was why the three of them had spent a great deal of time and effort planning this raid.
Maiya piloted Frumpy with Yamal and another handmaiden behind her, and she was joined by two other Acira. In all, they had nine fighters, excluding Yamal, who wouldn’t take part in the attack.
Which, Maiya reflected, was exactly what it would be.
Riyan’s security net was simply too tight. There was no chance of Maiya infiltrating into his compound undetected. As much as she’d have loved to avoid involving anyone else, this was a necessary evil.
The handmaidens on this raid had been handpicked by Ira herself. They were the best of the best, and Maiya knew they wouldn’t let her down. Rather, it was her own role she was more worried about.
The operation had begun at dusk, flying from Jatan Forest rather than Sonam—to avoid suspicion. Ira’s movements had grown bolder lately, and she was having to take more and more precautions to avoid the notice of her siblings, and of course, Andros himself. No matter how dangerous the missions became, Maiya had to remind herself that the princess shouldered the greatest danger of them all.
Now, night had fallen, bringing with it increasingly severe chills as they made their way north. As usual for such an operation, several transfer points had been set up, with Acira flown and fully rested. Every few hours, they would switch to the fresh beasts, speeding up their journey immeasurably.
And unlike on her last trip, Maiya had no pressing need to be back at the Childrens’ Sanctum. With her control over the organization fully solidified, she was free to do as she pleased—nobody dared to stop her, and thanks to the previous Blessed Chosen, such behavior wasn’t without precedent, either. The madness that drove him drove every Chosen before him, and some were better at dealing with it than others.
None as well as Maiya, though. The Foundation Chakra had changed her life, and she was eager to progress to the others. Not so much for the combat application, as Vir was interested in, but because of the enlightenment it was supposed to bring. That made Maiya giddy.