“That’s what I’m talking about!” yelled Leonis, rising in the stands.
“Last warning, Leonis!” barked Feng, whipping around.
Jova inhaled powerfully, stretched out her ribs, then glowered at him, her dark-rimmed eyes narrowing to slits, her black hair falling before her features in a curtain.
Elated, feverish, Scorio grinned at her. “Right now you could care less about me,” he said, “but mark my words, you will care by the time I’m done.”
Jova snarled, rose to the balls of her feet, then rushed at him. Scorio saw death in her eyes, and his grin slipped just as she leaped up, her right leg passed before him, not a strike, he realized, but a preamble, a setup for her other leg which came scything all the way around as she spun in the air like the apocalypse itself. The outside of her left fist slammed into him with the force of a charging fiend; Scorio felt himself lifted clear off the ground and sent flying, to bounce once then fall off the edge of the sparring circle, crashing to the ground below.
Feng’s voice seemed to come from a mile away. “And we’ll say that’s the third point, making this an easy victory for Jova.”
Scorio lay there blinking, staring up blearily as he felt pain course through him. A dark shape appeared at the edge of the ring to stare wrathfully at where he lay.
“I won’t believe your lies!” he heard Jova snarl.
That made no sense. What was… but it was too hard to think. Instead, he rested his head back and grinned. The sweet glow of having scored a point enveloped him, and her anger, strangely personal, made his accomplishment all the sweeter. He could hear voices, hear people rushing to his side. “I think she likes me,” he said to nobody in particular, then everything dropped away, as if falling down a well, and he blacked out.
Chapter 60
The remaining three days passed all too quickly. He trained, sparred, studied, and meditated in a frantic blur. There wasn’t enough time. Not enough cycles in the day. The sun-wire became his enemy, sleep his begrudging opponent. His Heart was his challenge and obstacle, the altar at which he worshipped and the source of all his greatest frustrations. He came to know the angular cracks and deep fissures that rivened it in intimate detail, and its topographical map haunted his dreams.
But there wasn’t enough time to heal, and the paltry Black Star pills he received each morning were a mockery of the treasures he’d been promised. He swallowed them bitterly, thinking on his farm out in the ruins, and yearned for the next time he could harvest his plants. Better, he’d grow a veritable jungle, he vowed, and steep himself so deeply in its noxious power that he’d never lack for mana again.
Hunting proved more fruitful. He finally managed to pay Jelan a visit with his heavy sack of Heartstones, and negotiated with the shocked alchemist until he was able to wrest an upfront payment of thirty golden octs with the promise of fifty more once the man secured the funds.
“There are more proper avenues for dispensing such… items,” Jelan had said with obvious dismay as he’d hefted the ichor-soaked sack. “They might pay you better rates, too.”
“They might,” Scorio had said. “But I trust you.”
“Trust,” Jelan had sniffed. “Oh, my dear child. You’re entering a very dangerous part of the economy, you know. Those who hunt Heartstones do so in large teams and are led by experienced veterans. Please tell me you are not doing this by yourself.”
“Less folks with which to split the profit,” Scorio had grinned. “What about Black Star? How much might you be willing to pay if I brought you syrup?”
“Black Star syrup?” Jelan had sounded less than impressed. “I suppose there’s a need for it. Refined?”
“If you prefer.”
They’d haggled, Jelan complaining that the substance was practically worthless, Scorio coming back with how the Academy clearly saw fit to serve it to students. Jelan had protested that the market was already saturated, to which Scorio had replied that Jelan could sell at cut-rate prices.
In the end, Jelan had made an offer: two iron octs per refined pill.
Scorio’s heart had sunk, but he’d forced himself to agree.
“Now,” he’d said. “Let’s talk about what I’d like to spend these gold octs on.”
And with his profit, he was able to triumphantly purchase his first Sublime Purification pill. Which meant handing his thirty gold octs along with another twenty from what he was owed right back to Jelan, who procured the pill from private sources and had it delivered to Scorio’s room in a prim case of ebon wood.
“You can’t go on like this,” said Lianshi, standing before him with her arms crossed. He was sitting on the floor of their common room, bathed in sweat, fighting to regain his breath after the umpteenth time of practicing the First Form.
“What?” He gazed up at her, wiped at his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re fighting tomorrow. You think you’ll do better if you’re an exhausted wreck?”
“She’s got a point,” said Leonis from the nest of cushions in the corner of the room where he lay, hands interlaced behind his head, eyes closed as he ostensibly meditated. “A good night’s sleep will do more for you now than another dozen run-throughs of that form.”
Scorio scowled. “I’m not ready. My Heart’s nowhere close to Emberling. The Sublime Purification pill helped, but I need more. When… when Jelan delivers the next one… but that won’t be in time for my fight. I need…” He trailed off, frustration gnawing at his innards like a starved rat.
“And you think you’ll make Emberling tonight?” Lianshi’s tone was flat and uncompromising. “Sleep, Scorio. Give the Sublime Purification pill time to work on your Heart. You’ll have to face your opponent tomorrow as a Cinder. There’s no way around it. I’m sorry.”
Scorio bowed his head, felt sweat bead its way down his temples, run along the line of his jaw. “Damn it.”
“I’m sorry.” She crouched before him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know how important this is. I wish I could help, but you gave it your all. Whatever happens tomorrow, you know you couldn’t have done more.”
“Truth,” said Leonis. “Your Heart’s too big and your treasures too paltry. It was an unfair playing field from the start. You can’t get mad at yourself when you had no chance to begin with.”
“Not helping, Leonis,” said Lianshi with false sweetness.
“I know, I know,” said Scorio at last. “It’s just… I can’t think of what else I can do. We’re hitting the old Gauntlet, I’m training in every waking minute I’ve got, I’m pushing myself in every way I can think, and all Hera can counsel me is to be patient and give my Heart time.”
“Look.” Lianshi withdrew her hand and briskly brushed her hair back. “Think of it this way. You did the impossible to get here, but at the cost of your Heart, right? Now half of all your training is wasted as the benefits are vented. You have to literally work twice as hard to accomplish what anyone else here does normally.”
“Lianshi,” said Leonis in the same false, cheery tone. “Not helping.”
Scorio scowled at his hands. “I know. I just thought—hoped—I could force my way through. Just… overcome my limitations through sheer effort and willpower alone.”
“Doesn’t work that way,” said Lianshi softly. “It’s why the Academy doesn’t duplicate your approach for everyone else. It’s why we’re warned of excessive Coal use, why we’re told from the get-go to not consume treasures beyond our abilities. Sure it would give anyone a momentary advantage, but the cost…”
Silence. Scorio felt a pain in the back of his throat as nausea roiled through his guts. His hands were shivering, he saw, while the muscles across his back and neck were so tight, they felt as if they were cramping. “I just wanted…” He forced himself to stop, then hung his head. “I know. You’re right.”