The space within was some sixty or so yards in diameter, not perfectly circular but more of a rough oval. Fyrona led her team to the far side, trekking out over the packed sand, while Merideva stopped short so that they stood in a loose cluster.
“You’re all Dread Blazes,” she said, tone terse as she watched the other team. “You don’t need uplifting words or hand holding. You know the plan. All you need do is your best. The point of this exercise is to learn how our pieces fit together. Watch, observe, fight, learn. Remember, if your injury is beyond endurance, one of us will give you a mercy kill. Regardless, all will be undone three minutes after we begin.”
Scorio nodded and watched the far team. The last time he’d attempted such an exercise was with Manticore in Bastion. That had been enjoyable, low stakes, rough but not lethal.
This?
Any one of the other Dread Blazes could kill him quickly.
He cracked his knuckles within the palm of his other hand and fought to relax. He could deal plenty of damage himself.
Taron entered the circle but remained close to an obelisk. “Is everybody ready?”
Fyrona’s team spread out. Penaela stood in the center, arms hanging loose by her sides, expressionless. Nyrix and the Shadow Petal stood to one side, Fyrona and Ursan on the other.
“Don’t hold back,” whispered Merideva as she raised her fist in turn. “All damage dealt in here is temporary. Destroy them.”
Taron drew forth the vial and unstoppered it. Even at this distance Scorio could sense the alluring glimmer of Gold, but then it was sent deep into the heart of the obelisk and was gone.
For a second nothing happened, and then a deep thrumming filled the air, a resonance that built within Scorio’s chest and made his gorge rise. A second later it smoothed out as fog began to spin around the periphery of the oval; not fog, but something more mystical, spinning in tight, cottony curls even as it whipped around them. The sky disappeared, covered by a pall of gray, and everything became incredibly distinct, as if more real, more vibrant, more granular and detailed.
“On my count!” Taron raised his arm. The rules were similar to that of the Iron Tyrant’s dueclass="underline" no igniting till the contest began.
“Three! Two! One! Begin!”
Five Hearts burst into flame as one. Scorio immediately drew on the ambient Bronze, siphoning it directly into his Heart and sparing his reservoir.
Everything happened quickly.
Wesanin let out a great shout and leaped into the air, sand erupting around him to spin about his form, enveloping him in a vortex that rose some ten yards in height.
A small black sphere the size of a head appeared over the center of the field, casting a dismal pall over the heart of the oval.
Galvon took an abrupt step forward and shoved with both hands as if at a stuck drawer, and the world seemed to shudder as a great wave of heated air burst forth from the oval’s center to wash over the other team.
But Nyrix had already raised his crossbow of burning white fire and loosed a shot to their team’s left; the bolt hit the ground and burst into a portal of raging flame.
Rharvyn leaned back, arm extended near to the ground, and in his palm a ball of swirling black fire appeared.
On the oval’s far center Ursan swelled in size, doubling height and quadrupling in width, becoming as massive and broad as a barn door as he became an ogre. Massively muscled, bald and lantern-jawed, his eyes were nearly lost under a huge ridge of a brow, his hands large enough to palm barrels, his chest and shoulders swelling up to ludicrous proportions, his waist narrow, his legs bandy. He and Fyrona began to lope out wide to the left, avoiding Penaela’s black sun.
All of this within the first second.
Scorio leaped into the air as he surged into his scaled form. Burning Bronze was a euphoric experience after all the Iron. He extended his wings with a bark of sheer exultation, and felt Merideva leap up to land upon his back, arms wrapped around his neck.
A moment of duality, of regret: only Naomi had ever ridden him like this. For Merideva to wrap her long, muscled arms around his neck felt like a trespass.
But then he flew forward, chasing Wesanin’s roaring tornado as it curved out wide around the dead zone in the center of the arena.
Rharvyn’s fistful of fire flew from his hand as he pitched it with all his might. It soared high.
Fyrona and Ursan were racing around the sun’s far side. Nyrix and the Shadow Petal had no doubt already emerged beside Rharvyn, spelling their teammates end.
Which is why his strike had to count. The fistful of fire flew straight at Penaela’s baleful sun, fast enough to evade the worst of the warping power, and hit it head on. Rharvyn had assured them he’d be able to find a target on the oval’s far side that would cause his attack to pass through wherever the sun might be placed; the interception was perfect, and the resultant explosion calamitous.
The black sun exploded, its release of power doubled by Rharvyn’s own detonation. Scorio had been ready; he dropped to the sands and dug his burning talons into the sand, and even so he was forced back a half-dozen yards, the waves of burning power washing over him and searing his scales.
His wings furled around Merideva, shielding her from the worst of the blast, but he heard her hiss in pain regardless.
Even as the center of the oval roiled with a cacophony of flames, he sprang forward, straight through the now cleared center. Merideva bounced upon his back, and just as they emerged through the maelstrom he leaped back up into flight once more.
Just as Ursan turned to slam his fist into the ground, releasing a huge shockwave that sent waves of sand blasting out around him.
Merideva released her grip around his neck to drop. The second her foot touched the sand she darted forward, appearing nearly twenty yards ahead to bring a burning staff whistling around her head and smash it into Ursan’s upraised arm.
Scorio searched out Fyrona, saw her drop into a crouch and stare at him.
Here it came.
Her eyes crackled ebon, and a sheet of utter darkness flew toward him.
Panic. Scorio summoned his Shroud before him, but the flat plane of blackness cut through the Shroud as if it weren’t there. Without thinking he summoned his flame form, and became a living silhouette of fire just as Fyrona’s eyebeams passed through him.
Scorio felt his form be cut in half, bifurcated perfectly by the blast. He’d no idea if he’d survive the assault, but as his center sealed over, unhurt, he fought the urge to laugh and instead inhaled the mass of flame into his chest, becoming scaled and solid once more.
Fyrona rose to her feet, eyes going wide, then crossed her arms before her face.
Scorio unleashed his flame upon her, swooping in as he did so.
Fyrona’s entire body became enshrouded in black fire, which washed over her Shroud and roared into the fog. She screamed but remained immobile, leaning into the flames, head bowed.
Damn, but she really was fucking tough.
Scorio dropped just as his flame ended. Fyrona lowered her arms, dazed, and again her eyes widened as she caught a flash of Scorio’s downward swing, and then his searing talons slammed into her battered Shroud and shattered it.
It felt like striking a rock face. His white-tipped talons sank perhaps an inch into her ribs, causing her to snarl in pain, but before he could rake his other hand across her face her eyes widened and turned black.
A second blast.
STOP!
His command hit her like a slap across the face, and her head rocked back just enough that her attack sheeted out into the sky.
Giving him time to slam his other talons into the side of her head.
Fyrona screamed, tried to bring her gaze down to bring her blast against him, but he’d stabbed his talons into her temple in such a way as to find purchase of her whole head, and now he craned it back, causing her to gaze straight up.
With a grunt, he tore his other hand free of her side and tried to slash her throat. It felt like swiping a knife across a log. Again and again he slashed, all the while keeping her head tilted back, and she stumbled, wrestled with him, screaming in fury and pain.