“Stay down,” hissed Scorio.
“Stop, I concede!” cried Yuze, who had appeared against the caldera wall, curled up with his arms wrapped around his head, his Shroud hanging before him.
The Nightmare Lady loomed over him, her tail angled for a strike.
“The Testament is over!” Did Valdun sound shocked?
Nobody applauded. Scorio raked the observing crowd with a quick, indifferent glare. People were staring, wide-eyed.
“The bout goes to Scorio and Naomi,” continued Valdun, his pegasus gliding down in a tight curve to the ground. Its hooves clopped on the rock as the Pyre Lord slid off its back, and then the steed disappeared in a flash of golden light.
“And in truth, that was a very… convincing fight.” Valdun gazed at where Dakshina still lay curled up on the ground, then over at Jaks who was bleeding freely at Scorio’s feet. “I had thought we’d have more sport, but it seems Scorio and Naomi are in need of a greater challenge.”
The Nightmare Lady shrank back down and became Naomi, who refused to look at the audience and instead gave Scorio a wink.
“What…?” Jaks sat up, completely healed. “Is it…?”
“Over?” Scorio extended his hand. “It’s over.”
She took his hand, more out of reflex than anything else, and he heaved her up with such strength she near lifted clear off the ground before settling and staggering back.
“We lost?” Jaks struggled to understand. “But I didn’t… we didn’t…”
“Do much of anything?” Naomi strode up, eyes narrowed. “No. You didn’t. If we’d known it would be this easy we wouldn’t have accepted your challenge. Disappointing, really.”
Jaks flushed and looked away.
“Might need to make it six against two for this to be interesting,” said Valdun, stroking his beard as he strode over. “Or hell, maybe we should pit the two of you against Dread Blazes.”
“Maybe you should try us against Pyre Lords,” said Naomi, her smile cutting.
Amity ambled over. “I think not! We already saw how that went for Praximar. How’d you just walk through Yuze’s wires, Scorio? I’ve tested my thumb against them and they’re wicked sharp. Valdun and I can handle them, but you’re just a Flame Vault. Should’ve given you pause.”
For a moment, Scorio wanted to admit he had a Gold-tempered body, but then he shrugged. “Maybe it’s a unique property of my scales. Just lucky, I guess.”
“Just lucky,” said Amity, nodding amicably as if this were the most logical explanation in the world. “Just as you were able to overpower Dakshina by… feeding her too much power?”
Jaks and Yuze had retreated to their fallen friend, and having propped her up were trying to get her to drink some water.
“That’s how it looked to me,” said Valdun, who crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “You must have an immensely deep reservoir.”
“I guess all that training in the ruins paid off,” said Scorio, voice quiet. “If Bastion had a future, I’d recommend it to future classes.”
“Hmm,” said Valdun, frowning as he scrutinized Scorio.
“Oh,” said Naomi, as if suddenly remembering. “Wasn’t there a reward for winning?”
Amity tapped Valdun’s elbow and pointed up.
Scorio looked up as well and saw a shadowed figure step back into the darkness of the highest balcony.
The Pyre Lords exchanged a significant glance.
“Yes,” said Valdun. “I’ll have the other three swear their Heart Oaths as soon as Dakshina’s recovered. I can ask them to present themselves at your cluster later to both acknowledge their debts and congratulate you on the victory.”
“No need,” said Naomi before Scorio could reply. “I’ve little interest in their company. Was there anything else, Pyre Lords?”
Amity rubbed the back of his neck. “Just my congratulations, I suppose. And watch out. You’re going to have more challenges coming your way, but I reckon they won’t be Flame Vaults.”
“That allowed?” asked Scorio.
“You’re always free to decline,” continued Amity. “And refusing a challenge from a Dread Blaze carries no shame. But I’d be interested to watch you go up against the likes of Sharess or Gorgias.”
“Thank you,” said Scorio. “Maybe some other time.”
Valdun smirked. “Well, I’d best get back to my duties. And you, Amity. Got caught sneaking in here to watch, eh?”
Amity laughed. “I’ll pay the price. It was worth it. See you Flame Vaults around.”
Valdun headed over to where Jaks and the others were still tending to Dakshina, and Amity strode toward a side tunnel, fending off some other Great Souls that wanted to talk to him.
“Told you,” said Naomi, tone clearly pleased. “Easy as easy could be.”
“Felt like fighting children,” said Scorio. “It was almost too fast.”
“That’s what happens when you spend all your time fighting for your life, as opposed to just hanging out in the Fiery Shoals or Fury Spires, waiting to be told what to do.” Naomi linked her arm with his and they began walking toward the same tunnel they’d come from. “Though someone like Jova would be far more interesting.”
“Hey,” said a young guy, hurrying up to them both. “Great fight!”
“Real Flame Vaults versus pretend ones?” mused Scorio. “Maybe that’s the problem with the war. Too many of our number are shepherded through the process instead of having to really fight their way through.”
“Guess it was a blessing you were thrown to my tender mercies instead of being fattened on pills and elixirs in the Academy,” said Naomi. “I honed you to a sharp edge.”
The kid raked his fingers through his black hair in frustration, spiking it up. “Hey, idiots! I’ve been told to spy on you. Hello?”
“Go ahead and claim all the credit,” laughed Scorio. “I clearly had nothing to do with it.”
“You’re a quick student,” Naomi allowed. “And remarkably willing to endure pain while trying to understand the most obvious of lessons.”
Scorio gave up and simply shook his head. Nobody approached them, but he could feel scores of people watching them as they departed. He wondered briefly if Leonis and Lianshi would try to catch up with them, but when they didn’t, he couldn’t tell if he was relieved or not.
They walked in companionable silence along the tunnels, making their way slowly back to their own cluster. A kid followed them for a time, then sighed and peeled away, leaving them alone. Occasionally they got lost, but always ran into someone eventually who could point them in the right direction. Upon returning to their quarters Scorio half-expected to find a messenger from the Iron Tyrant awaiting them, or a line of new challengers, but all was still, all was quiet.
Morose, his mind returning to old memories of friends no longer with them, he excused himself and entered his room to lie upon the thin mattress stretched out on the stone shelf.
One hand under his head, he allowed his darkvision to fade away, and simply gazed up into the nothingness. The stone walls were so thick that no sound penetrated his room; he lay as if entombed, hidden deep within his own private grave.
Had it already been almost four years since he’d been reborn in the Academy? Most of it had been spent in the Crucible, true, but somehow time was already slipping by.
He’d have to turn his attention to making Dread Blaze. Idly, he willed his Heart to ignite, then set about the exercises that Druanna had taught them, causing the flow of mana to the flames to ebb and flow, over and over again.
But even as he practiced his thoughts strayed. LastRock felt a world away, a diffused goal that he couldn’t begin to imagine how best to approach. All of the Telurian Band and the Blood Ox’s forces lay between him and that lost city, and the Blood Ox himself was apparently as powerful as an Imperator.
Was he wasting his time, angling for this information? Should they circumvent the entirety of the war with its doomed politics and invisible angles to travel into the Silver Unfathom?