Vayra sprinted across the arena, closing the distance between herself and Varion as quickly as she could. In a blink, she covered half the arena and leapt at Varion, aiming for his side, poised to cut him in half. He blocked the swipe with ease, but ever since their bind in the first fight, he had been avoiding prolonged contact of their weapons.
But she didn’t need to hit his axe for long—just a couple hard strikes in the right place.
The second round had already taken three or so minutes, and she’d depleted half her mana without landing another direct hit on Varion’s axe.
‘You need to pick up the pace,’ Phasoné warned. ‘Use the Mediator Form?’
“Unless we want to run out of mana even quicker, that’s off the table,” Vayra hissed, deflecting a counterattack then slipping around to Varion’s other side. He whirled the opposite direction, holding his axe in precisely the right place to catch her across the gut—and the hit would’ve landed had she not Warded her robe.
‘You need to take a risk if you’re going to do what you need. He’s too fast, strong, and experienced for you to take on any other way.’
Phasoné meant the Mediator Form, but Vayra had other plans. As far as she knew, she didn’t need better techniques. She needed more skill, and the Mediator Form wouldn’t accomplish that. It’d make her Astral Shroud better, sure. It’d make her Wards stronger, but they were already strong enough.
No, she needed to take other sorts of risks.
Opening herself up, she attacked Varion with a high scythe swipe. If he chose, he could attack her body anywhere, and for the moment, she’d be powerless against it.
At least, so he would think. He Warded the air just beside his head, creating a shield of frost to catch her scythe, while aiming an axe swipe right at her chest.
She released her mechanical hand from the grip of the scythe, then reached out and punched Varion’s axe down while activating the disruption runestone—and right on top of the joint between the axehead and haft. It didn’t break it, but pulses and vibrations ran through the weapon, temporarily loosening it Moulded Arcara innards and joints.
She jumped over the axe and pulled her scythe back, then, with the Astral Shroud still active, delivered three precise blows to the joint between the axehead and the haft with her scythe blade. The first cut an inch deep, the second made the head wobble, and the third cut it free.
A burst of force ran through the axe’s haft, splintering the wood and ripping apart the entire haft in an explosion of splinters. The axehead skittered across the sand. Its runes, still fuelled with an Arcara-frost mixture, expanded and quivered. With a cannon-like boom, the axehead blasted apart, spewing out metal shards.
One caught her in the shoulder and sent her staggering back. Karmion raised a wall of water to shield the crowd from a cluster, and Varion ducked under the last clump.
Then he wheeled around and kicked Vayra in the gut, flinging her back onto the sand. Two shards of ice rose out from the sand on either side of her head, only a fingernail’s width from her temple on both sides.
She shut off all her techniques and raised her hands in surrender.
The crowd fell silent and stared at her. Varion spat at her feet and turned away, shaking out his hands. “Weak. You are nothing, and now the galaxy will be ours.”
Vayra only smirked, then stood up, brushed herself off, and marched back toward her waiting room.
Everything had gone to plan.
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At first, Karmion had been elated at the victory. Until he remembered the very first swipe that Vayra had made.
She had aimed for the axe. Now the axe was gone.
For the first time in centuries, a pit formed in Karmion’s stomach. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted, and anyone in the crowd with half a brain would’ve seen it as well. She was paving the way for the Order disciple. That final smirk of hers had been broadcasted to the entire arena through the sunlight projection.
He clenched his fists and flew down to his viewing tower, then marched across the room to the central table. Grabbing hold of the nearest Admiral he could find, he said, “Send word to Summerfall. Activate the Ko-Ganall immediately. They will arrive here in three days, given no interruptions, and I need them as soon as possible. I hereby consign the entire sector to destruction.”
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The Admiral’s eyes widened, but she gave a dutiful nod and swallowed. “Yes, grandfather. It will be done.”
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Vayra ran back to her apartment in the contestant quarters as fast as she could, with Glade close on her heels.
“Good work!” he called.
“Thanks!” she said back, looking over her shoulder for a few seconds. “Now, it’s in your hands. Finish the job!”
“Where are you going?”
She took the final flight of stairs up to the contestants’ quarters two at a time. “I’m going to the Vale Chambers on Barra Secundus! I can’t stay here, or in the public eye for much longer, now that I’m out of the tournament. They’ll take every opportunity to destroy me.”
“You cannot go alone,” Glade stressed.
“I’m not a Quartermaster anymore. I can delve deeper.”
“The depths of the chambers were made for Grand Admirals or higher. The Dragon Gods built them, Vayra. There will be powerful enemies guarding the Vale Cores.”
“I—”
“She will not be going alone.”
They both stopped halfway up the flight of stairs. At the top stood Myrrir, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “We will delve together. I’ve shown my hand, and I have a target on my back as well. I need to leave, too, and you’ll be better off with me.”
Vayra sprinted to the top of the stairs and lowered her voice as well. “How do I know you won’t stab me in the back as soon as we’re in the depths of the Chambers?”
“You don’t, really.” Myrrir backed up as she walked down the hallway, facing her. “But I haven’t led you astray up until now, and I don’t plan on stabbing you in the back ever. I made a promise to an old man that I’d do the right thing, and this is how I start making things right. I have to do something to help.”
‘To be fair to him,’ Phasoné said, ‘he has always been upfront about his intentions, and he’s never lied to you.’
Vayra nodded. “Alright. Come to our apartment. I’m grabbing my supplies. Do you have everything you need?”
He patted a small brown haversack hanging at his hip. “I have everything. Rations, a few elixirs I had left.”
“Give me a few minutes, then.”
The three ran down the hallway until they reached their room, then stepped inside. Glade led, and Vayra followed close behind, stepping slowly. There shouldn’t have been time for anyone to lay a trap, but she couldn’t be too careful. Not when they were so close to absolute victory.
She flitted around the room, filling her own haversack with rations and leftover food from the tournament rations. She made sure to keep some meat for Adair, then made sure her Namola elixirs were still intact. She took a swig of one—she didn’t know what Varion’s axe had been made out of, but she didn’t want to find out the hard way—then tucked the rest back into the sack. Finally, she snatched her old white cloak off a wall hook and threw it over her shoulders.
“I’m ready,” she said. “Good luck, Glade. I’ll try to be back before the final fight.”
“Now, both of you, please wait,” Glade said. “Karmion’s Ko-Ganall. He is not stupid. He will launch them. In order to keep you trapped here, he will try to block off the port. I imagine he is planning on using his weapon on you, then letting the Ko-Ganall finish the job while he abandons ship. You will have died in an accident, or so it would look.”
“Captain Pels can run whatever blockade they have. Especially if we go fast.” Vayra looked out the window on the opposite wall. It was midday, but a chunk of the Shattered Moon’s crust floated in front of the sun, blocking out the light. Lanterns and torches lit up all around the arena. “If we can make it to the port soon, we’ll be there before Karmion’s fleet can surround the Stream.”
She clasped his wrist, and he clasped hers back. He said, “Be safe.”
“Find Ameena,” Vayra said. “She’s your best ally here.”
“I will.”
Then, she turned back to Myrrir. “I’m going to sprint to the Harmony and tell the crew to make ready. Keep up as best as you can, but if you’re not there by the time the sails are down, we’ll leave without you.”
“Understood,” Myrrir said.
Vayra activated the Astral Shroud. She hadn’t had time to refill her mana much, leaving her just over a half core full, but using just the Shroud to travel from the arena to Shatterport shouldn’t run her empty.
She darted off through the hallways of the arena, passing between flustered workers and guards, and in less than a minute, emerged out onto the road to Shatterport.
With her head tucked, she sprinted to the city as fast as she could. The chunk of crust shifted away from the sun, and illumination fell back onto the central island of the arena. In the distance, along the frayed ends of the Stream, she spotted an unusually large number of ships sailing down to the planet.
Probably more of Karmion’s fleet coming to join the effort.
She arrived in the Velaydian section of the port with only a sliver of mana to spare, then ran down the pier to the Harmony. Kertogg and Tressdott still stood on the pier in front of the ship, arguing, but this time, Vayra ran past them and sprang up onto the Harmony’s main deck in a single leap.
“Captain Pels!” Vayra called. “Can the ship sail any time soon?”
After a few seconds, Pels ran to the front railing of the quarterdeck. “Vayra? What do you need?”
“How are you feeling about running a blockade?”
Pels glanced over his shoulder at the base of the Stream. Already, the Elderworld fleet was forming a line abreast, blocking off the Stream’s junction with the surface of the planet. “That? No problem.”
“One other thing,” Vayra said. “We’ll have an extra passenger this time.”