A bridge loomed before him, brutal and broad, without guardrails of any kind, a simple, rugged plinth of stone crossing out over a familiar void.
He’d come a third of the way back into the ruins, leaving the periphery that hugged the city proper. This bridge marked a crossing into deeper territory. Greater predators lurked beyond, thicker mana. If he crossed it, he’d be making his choice undeniably clear, even to himself.
He’d be returning to the Academy tonight.
Scorio raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. His nostrils flared as he breathed slowly, forcefully.
Back to the Academy. To lie down on that jeweled bier by himself. To enter the Gauntlet alone. To face that bright, searing beam and dive through it, evading the blades, then pass into the second chamber.
Where those stone statues awaited him, even now. Serene, blood thirsty, indifferent, and murderous.
He could vent his fury on them. Could throw himself against their forms again and again. Could fight until he couldn’t force himself to rise again.
“Where are you going?”
Scorio wheeled around and jerked his head back at the sight of Naomi. She crouched atop a freestanding stone column off to the side, studying him with an overt stare, lips pursed.
“What’s it to you?” he growled.
“It looks like you’ve taken a wrong turn,” she said, voice flat. “Your room lies back that way.”
“I know where my damn room lies,” he said. “I’m not going there.”
“You should. You look terrible.”
“Since when do you care how I look?”
She didn’t respond at once, nor did she flinch as he’d hoped at his hurled insult. Instead, she remained crouched up there like some malignant crow, her face a pale smear in the bloody light, her gaze penetrating. When she did answer, her words hit Scorio like a blow to the chest.
“Since when do you have an active wish to die?”
He bared his teeth in a mocking smile. “I’m not going to my death.”
“Then where are you going?”
He wanted to swipe a blow at something, to vent his anger, but there was nothing close. “To the old Academy.”
“Leave something behind?”
“My training.”
“Training is best done with a clear mind. The way you’re looking, you just want to pick a fight.”
“Maybe I do.” He took a few steps toward her. “What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing. If you can win that fight.”
He laughed. “I’m guaranteed to die, but it doesn’t bother me.”
Her posture stiffened. “Guaranteed?”
“Sure,” he said, voice turning into a lazy drawl. “The Gauntlet’s a terminal kind of place.”
Naomi considered him for another long spell, brow furrowed. “So the old Academy has access to the Gauntlet. That’s what you did all day.”
“Don’t worry. It’s the old Gauntlet. Nobody in the new Academy is any wiser.”
She nodded slowly, tonguing the inside of her cheek. “Interesting. And you think it’s a good idea to go back and try it again.”
“Already ran it five times,” he said. “Another five won’t hurt.” He paused, considering. “Not for long, anyway.”
“It’s influenced you. I’ve never seen you this… wild. Out of control.”
“You don’t know me.”
“And I never will if you destroy yourself.”
Scorio snarled and swiped his hand through the air. “Why is everybody trying to tell me what to do?”
Naomi’s smile enraged him further. “Because there’s a small handful of people in this world that don’t want to watch you throw your life away?”
Scorio frowned and averted his gaze. “I need the training. I need to get stronger.”
“The Gauntlet’s not going anywhere,” she said. “Go tomorrow. Rest first.”
He knew she spoke wisdom. Knew that under his fevered anger was a well of simmering exhaustion. But he didn’t want wisdom. “No. I’m going.”
“Fine.” She sighed, rose, and hopped off the top of the pedestal to land neatly at its base. “Then I’m going with you.”
He’d been about to turn away but stopped mid-stride. “You are?”
“Sure.” She considered him with her rich hazel eyes. “That way I can at least make sure you don’t die on me.”
He felt his gaze turn cold. “And why do you care?”
“Oh, come on, Scorio,” she said impatiently. “Stop being an ass.”
Any further response would have been churlish, so instead, he forced himself to stare upward at the blood-red sun-wire and release a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Fine,” he said at last. “You can come.”
“Lucky me,” she muttered and moved past him to step onto the bridge.
He watched her go, nonplussed, and then followed.
They traveled in silence. Naomi clearly wasn’t interested in conversation, walking apart and picking her way silently through the rubble-strewn streets. Scorio followed a little behind, and slowly his anger faded away and he was left with a pensive wariness that bordered on regret.
Occasionally he’d glance over at her, but she was never looking in his direction. She could have been marching into the heart of the ruins by herself for all the awareness she displayed of his presence.
Without warning, she turned to climb the facade of a great temple, and he wordlessly followed; they traversed rooftops for a while before she dropped into a street and continued south, only to veer hard east for a half-dozen blocks before turning south again.
He tried to piece together her rationale but wasn’t sure he understood. No matter; she’d been out here far longer than he. If she wanted to walk backward, he’d do the same without complaint.
The ragged sheets of steam were rising right up to the sun-wire now, curling around it and further muting the light. Second Clay was nearly over, and the air was gradually growing chill.
“We fought our way directly to the Academy,” he called out at last as they drew near the far end. “Defeated this engorged toad and drove it off.”
“Uh huh,” she said, not looking back.
“I’m not boasting,” he said. “I’m simply pointing out the direct approach is clear.”
“Was clear,” she said, still not looking back. “Since last you checked.”
Almost he said obviously, but he bit back the retort. He followed along as she angled obliquely toward the main bridge, and there paused to sight down its broad length to where the Academy arose, dour and vast.
The sun-wire began to go dark, the last of the red light fading away, the world around them dimming from crimson to burgundy to rust to blackness in a matter of seconds.
Almost immediately a light rain began to fall.
“Come on then,” said Naomi, only to pause and look back at him. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“No,” he said stoutly, though as the last of his anger had burned off it had been replaced by an emotional weariness and physical exhaustion. “Lead on, Emberling.”
The corner of her lip curled up in disdain, but she did just that. Together they crossed over the bridge, the nubbin of chalk held in his hand.
Scorio saw movement on the far side of the mound of rubble. Was that the toad? Whatever it was quickly ducked back out of view and was gone.
Wary, Scorio kept an eye on the collapsed house at the foot of the bridge but saw nothing more.
“Haven’t been here in a long time,” she said as they drew close to the Academy’s impressive architecture.
The rain was delicious, heavy, and warm, and Scorio had to fight the urge to raise his face and close his eyes. “I thought you avoided this part of town.”
“I do now.” She led the way up the huge steps to the massive portico with its huge double doors. “Too many ways to die for no good reason.”
“And that’s no longer the case?”
She considered him, expression enigmatic. “The Gauntlet might change the equation somewhat. Lead the way.”
It was eerie to walk back through those halls and rooms without Leonis and Lianshi. The darkness was so thick now that he was forced to use his darkvision constantly, swinging the sole patch of clarity it imparted from side to side as he walked, fully expecting to be surprised by some horror at any moment.