“It wasn’t stupid. It was exactly what I needed. It’s our edge, reclaimed.” Scorio lowered his voice. “Look, I can’t do this playing Praximar’s game. This Academy is designed to slot us all into our places and keep us there. I need an outside element, a wild card with which to shake it up. I plan to make octs with Heartstones, to return to harvesting Black Star, but the old Gauntlet’s my only real chance at winning this whole thing.”
“You’ll get expelled if you’re found out,” protested Lianshi.
“I’ll get expelled if I don’t,” said Scorio.
They stood in silence, stalemated, till Lianshi turned back to Leonis. “Reason with him.”
Leonis looked up and scratched at the stubble on his throat, lips pursed in thought, then sighed. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“You what?”
“Scorio’s right. Mad, but correct. Our current trajectory is taking us where, Lianshi? You know as well as I do that our time running the old Gauntlet saw us grow the fastest. I thought I was about to hit Emberling in less than a month, but that month has since come and gone and I’m still struggling.”
Lianshi frowned.
“Think,” said Leonis. “You gave up your hopes of rapid advancement when you turned down Kraken and their advanced treasures. I never had the chance because I died too soon in the original Gauntlet run. Since then we’ve been trying to catch up with the top fifty Great Souls in our cohort and falling behind. We’ve been killing ourselves with training, even going so far as to literally die in runs through the old Gauntlet, and still, we’re falling behind. Why? Because they get to devour those high potency treasures that duplicate all our hard work. What it takes us a week to achieve they accomplish in one swallow. We’ll never catch up without an edge. There are how many Emberlings now? And none of us are even close.”
Lianshi had no response, so she simply stood there, arms akimbo, scowling at Leonis.
Scorio hesitated, then stepped in a little closer. “You obviously don’t have to come—”
Only to bend over as she elbowed him, hard, in the gut. “Don’t say stupid things. Of course I’ll come. You’ll need at least one adult watching out over you two.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Leonis smoothly as Scorio straightened up. “Every Eighthday we’re back in the ruins.”
Scorio winced and smiled at Lianshi. “How close are you to Emberling, do you think?”
“Close,” she said, tone growing morose. “I’m having trouble igniting my Heart, but feel like I’ve plateaued.”
“There you go,” said Leonis. “We’ve all day today to push ourselves past any sane limit. I’ll wager you reach your First Trial before Second Clay.”
Lianshi stilled. “You think?”
“One way to find out,” said Scorio with a grin. “Nox said we could use the tunnel whenever we want, though he takes no responsibility for our dying horribly if we run into something bad down there.”
Lianshi’s hopeful expression fell into a deadpan stare.
“Which won’t happen,” said Scorio, raising both hands and backing away. “Because I lead a charmed life, and all who travel with me are equally blessed.”
“Uh-huh,” said Lianshi. “You’ve been spending too much time with this big idiot.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Leonis punched a fist into his other palm. “Let’s get going. We’ve only ten Eighthdays left before our real Gauntlet run. We need to make the most of them.”
“Well, all right then,” said Scorio with a grin, and led them back out into the hall and turned left, toward the closest Academy exit.
“Speaking of,” said Lianshi, stepping up to Scorio’s side. “How are we going to convince Naomi to come back? It doesn’t feel right without her, and I don’t want to invite anyone else to complete our team.”
“I don’t know,” said Scorio, rubbing at his chin. “Asking her back won’t work.”
“I know,” said Leonis. “We each reach Emberling and approach her with a show of force. Show her that we’re not a group of spoiled children, but warriors in our own right. When she sees that we’ve caught up with her, she’ll take us seriously and agree to come.”
Scorio and Lianshi exchanged a glance.
“That actually sounds pretty good,” said Lianshi. “What did you do with the real Leonis?”
Who only groaned and placed his hand over his eyes. “I was once worshipped as a grand king, and now I’m subjected to such paltry taunts? How the mighty have fallen.”
To which Lianshi dexterously slipped her foot between his two and tripped him up. Leonis let out a cry of alarm, staggered, then fell to one knee.
Lianshi let out a high-pitched laugh and took off running down the hall, followed a second later by a roaring Leonis.
Scorio chuckled as he watched them go. But his smile faded, and he proceeded alone, his mood turning somber. It was heartening to see them play, but on some level, it only served to remind him of how different their worlds were. The thought of playing such antics himself felt surreal.
No. He didn’t have it within him to fool around. He had to focus. For Leonis was right: they had but ten more Eighthdays, and Scorio intended to wring blood from each and every one.
1
“Gah!” Scorio awoke upon the ancient, jeweled bier and clutched at his stomach. Pain sliced through his core where the statue’s spear had impaled him in the gut, and he curled over onto his side, grimacing and fighting down the urge to moan.
Just pain, he told himself, just pain.
But the wound felt so real. On some level, it just didn’t make sense that blood wasn’t flowing through his fingers, that his stomach wasn’t torn open, that he wasn’t dying. The pain was primal, overwhelming, flattening out the rest of the world with its terrible immediacy.
But Scorio forced himself to breathe through it, and by slow degrees, it abated, like a tide withdrawing from the shore. When he was able to, he ignited his Heart, and then unknotted himself and breathed deeper as the pain faded away. With great effort, he sat up. He was drenched in sweat, beads running down his face, his robes clinging to him.
“You guys all right?” he called out, and then blinked and sharpened his darkvision so that the impenetrable darkness before him resolved into a narrow tunnel of outlines and gray shapes.
Whoever had sealed off the Academy had done a masterful job; a smooth stone shell a foot thick flowed within the other walls, plugging every gap, sealing every door and window, and reinforcing the masonry so that no new holes could be knocked into the walls. Imogen’s destruction was completely sealed over. As a result, everything within was pitch black, a swarming, utter absence of light that felt smothering.
“Loving life,” rasped Leonis from one side. Scorio looked his way and saw the huge man rubbing his neck. “Especially when being the greatest threat results in having knife thrown at your throat.”
“Your fault for being so good-looking,” said Scorio, then glanced around. “Lianshi?”
She wasn’t there. Scorio wiped the sweat from his eyes and swept his narrow beam of darkvision over the biers. She’d laid down on the one to his immediate left, but it stood empty. Had she rolled off in pain upon appearing? Sliding off his own, Scorio limped around her bier, his core still wrenched and in pain.
“She’s not here,” he said, turning to Leonis, dark panic opening its wet wings in this throat.
“Not here?” Leonis forced himself up to sitting and stared back. “What do you mean, not here? We always return at the same time.”
Scorio forced himself to stand still and think. “Perhaps the mechanism is getting older. Perhaps her return is being delayed.”
“By the ten hells, I hope not,” growled Leonis. “That’d mean this whole system is falling apart. Or perhaps she’s still stuck inside?”
“No,” said Scorio. “I saw her go down fighting that axman. She died just before I did. She should be here.” And he turned to stare angrily at the bare surface of the bier. “Where the hell is she?”