The city still stood, and was recognizably itself, despite the fires that lit up its streets. Reddish light fell over the plain as the sun rose, casting the landscape in a bloody hue. There was a brief reprieve from the earthquakes, the aftershocks rippling under our feet, but for how long Phyreios would remain standing, I did not know. Aysulu’s horse stood with its legs planted wide, anticipating another shake.
“Oh, no,” Khalim whispered beside me. “No, no, no.”
He must have recognized the horror before him. He had seen it, and walked hundreds of miles to prevent it, and yet there it was, just as it had appeared in his nightmares.
I kept my hold on his hand and waited for his god to appear again, to admonish us for our lack of haste and call down some new magic. Nothing happened. Khalim’s eyes remained dark and full of fear.
The slums were emptying of people. The houses there had gone up in flames—there was no alabaster stone to hold up their roofs. As we watched, guards slammed the gate behind them shut. A cry went up from the people on either side, their escape blocked.
“We need to get them out of there,” Reva called from the head of our column. She turned to Roshani. “Can you put those fires out?”
“I can,” said Yanlong. She had prepared her magic, inking characters up and down her muscled arms. “But I will need help.”
Roshani squared her shoulders and held her head up, the fire and the sunrise reflecting in her determined eyes. “I will go.”
Lord Janek, his son Artyom, and a handful of House Kaburh’s soldiers went with them. We hoped we would see them again.
The rest of us made our way around the city, to the south gate. There, a trickle of fleeing refugees were permitted to take the route that we had in our stolen chariot, at the end of the tournament. It had been only a few weeks since we had left Phyreios, but it seemed like another lifetime, as long ago as my ill-fated journey from my father’s lands.
We approached the gate. Smoke obscured the road behind it, though we could hear shouting and the splintering sound of doors being smashed and carts overturned. Holding one side of the heavy door open was Ashoka, his shining armor blackened with soot, his helmet missing and his black hair ragged. In his other hand he held his shield, and his sword remained sheathed at his hip. The other side of the gate had been broken at its hinges. People ran past him, carrying their belongings and their children. They paid us no heed as they passed by.
“Turn back!” Ashoka shouted at us. “The city is lost. You must leave this place!”
“We don’t have time for this,” Reva muttered. To Ashoka, she said, “Let us pass. We outnumber you.”
Khalim let go of my hand. He shouldered his way to the front, and I went after, lifting my axe from my shoulder.
Ashoka’s eyes went wide when he saw Khalim. “You!” he hissed. “Is this what you showed me, at the end of the chariot race? My city in flames, my gods turned to monsters, my people dead?”
Khalim stood at the edge of the open gate, arm’s length from Ashoka. “I am so, so sorry,” he said.
I watched, ready to separate Ashoka’s head from his shoulders if he so much as moved to draw his sword.
“The Ascended have begun their ritual,” Khalim continued. “They are sacrificing their people in order to summon a monster from under the earth.”
Ashoka only nodded. He knew—as the Ascendeds’ champion, he had likely been present for the start of the ritual. What he had seen, I could only begin to guess. It had been enough to send him here, to hold a door and let a few people escape, rather than staying in his honored place at the hand of the Ascended.
“Where is the ritual taking place?” Khalim asked.
Ashoka’s tone was defeated, barely audible over the roar of fire and chaos from the city. “Under the arena,” he said. “That is where they took the first group from the slums.”
“I know the way,” said Khalim. “Will you help us?”
“I cannot.” Ashoka looked away, back toward the blackening marble of Phyreios. “I won’t fight you, but I cannot raise a sword against my gods.”
He drew the sword from its sheath, and my hands tightened around the shaft of my axe. He took a step forward, and the door began to swing shut. Instead of attacking, he threw the sword to the ground, followed by his shield.
Khalim held up his hands to stop him. “Don’t do that. Stay here. You can help these people.”
“How can I?” Ashoka asked. “I served the ones who oppressed them; I led them to the slaughter. I bear responsibility for what has transpired here. The only good thing I have done was to take a handful of citizens from the arena and lead them here so they could get away.”
“Then do that again,” Khalim said. “You can still save more.”
A moment passed. At last, Ashoka turned and flung the gate back open. “The arena will be guarded,” he said. “May the gods—true gods, if any yet remain in this land—be with you.”
He went north, toward another part of the city. We entered and made our way toward the arena. The path we had taken during our escape was blocked at several junctures, with burning rubble cast into the streets. At times, we saw handfuls of guards, and at others citizens carrying torches and clubs made of broken carts and furniture ran past. Both groups avoided us—we were too many to frighten off, and they had other concerns.
“They’re rioting,” Reva said. “The miners will bring this city down around us, and I’m almost willing to let them.”
“We will need their help against the Ascended if we are to save Phyreios,” Lord Ihsad told her.
Reva signaled with an abrupt motion of one hand. From our column, twelve of the miners with us stepped out to stand behind her.
“I will organize them,” she said. “The rest of you, keep going. We have little time.”
As if to reassert her point, another shake rolled from the mountain through the city. Dust rained from the buildings to either side of us, and a crack split the paving stones ahead.
Reva took her men toward the sound of the riot, and the rest of us went on toward the arena. Ahead, the street was clear of rubble, and we soon saw why: as we rounded a corner into the market square, we saw a fortification, hastily constructed of overturned carts, fallen masonry, and doors pulled from their hinges. Behind it stood a handful of soldiers, carrying bows and spears.
Before they could bring their weapons to bear, I crossed the distance to the barricade in four great bounds and leapt atop it. I swung my axe clean through the first soldier and struck the second with a downward blow.
Jin and Heishiro rushed up on my either side, and with the help of the rest of the soldiers with us we made quick work of the rest of the emplacement. The soldiers that did not fall fled in a panic. I was heartened by our success. If the fight to come was to be this easy, we would reach the Ascended in short order. Perhaps we could halt their foul magics and save the city—and Khalim’s nameless god would not need to take him again.
I wanted, more than anything, to keep Khalim somewhere safe, to take Aysulu and Jin and the other fighters into the seat of the Ascendeds’ power and put an end to all of this. But the city was perilous from the gates to the mountain, and even at our stronghold the Serpents could seek him out.
I decided I would keep him at my side, as much as it was my decision to make. I was the one who had sworn to protect him. And I would show his god that there was no need to intervene as he had done before.
The arena rose up in front of us, the colorful banners of the tournament fluttering darkly against the smoky sky. Underneath the ground, the bloody ritual went on. The whole city shook and the mountain thundered as the worm tunneled ever closer.
“It is time,” Lord Ihsad told his son. “I will guard this point and secure all entrances to the arena. Take the best warriors and the Sword of Heaven, and slay these false gods.”
Jahan nodded. He surveyed the group and summoned Jin, Heishiro, and Hualing, and Aysulu and myself. After a brief hesitation, he also chose Khalim. A healer would be invaluable, and I would have argued for his inclusion had Jahan not taken him, but I knew not whether Khalim had been chosen for himself or for his god.
We formed up behind Jahan, Khalim and the archers at the rear, and walked through the broken door into the colosseum.
It was dark within the arena’s walls, as though the morning light had been driven back. This had become a different place to that in which the games had occurred. The stands were empty. Where there had been stakes to mark the boundaries of the chariot track now stood seven obsidian pillars, each twice as tall as a man, with blue-white flames burning on their pointed peaks. A dais had been erected below seats where the Ascended had sat, and rings of blue and black had been painted on its surface.
In the center of the array stood a man in a sky-blue robe. His hands and face were tattooed in symbols I did not know.
“You are not welcome here,” he said, and his voice echoed across the empty arena. “Our gods are busy with divine work, and you will not interfere. Leave, or we will be forced to smite you.”
Four armored men, dressed in shining breastplates like Ashoka’s, marched up between the door and the wizard. Their helmets were plumed in blue feathers, and they carried curved swords that caught the light of the unnatural flames.
There was movement, also, in the shadowy stretches between the obelisks. Serpents were stalking us once more.
Jahan strode forward and drew the Sword of Heaven. The flames reflected in its dark metal were like stars in the night sky.
“The Ascended lost their right to divinity when they began slaughtering their own people,” he said. “By this sword, I command you to stand down.”
The armored men drew closer to us, their shields raised and their blades ready. The wizard began to chant. Eerie, inhuman tones filled the arena, and the sigils on his skin and beneath his feet were imbued with pale light. As if by a strange wind, all the flames bent toward the dais.
Jahan’s blade clashed with the sword of the first armored man, and the terrible scream of metal on metal momentarily drowned out the sound of the wizard. Heishiro and Jin stepped forward to Jahan’s either side.
I did not wish to find out what terrible magic the man on the dais was summoning. I took a javelin from my quiver and threw it with the all the strength of the hunters on the far northern sea. It arced over the melee toward the dais.
As it passed by the obelisks, lightning darted from each one toward the iron point and curled around the shaft. It struck the wizard in the chest. Pale light erupted from his eyes and mouth and poured from his skin, as though a fire had been lit in his heart. He staggered backward but did not fall.
Aysulu kicked her horse into a gallop. She tore across the sand, kicking up a cloud of dust in her wake. Standing up in the stirrups, she drew back her bow.
The wizard crackled with tiny bursts of lightning. The obelisks dimmed, but he grew brighter. He brought his hands together, readying his spell.
The horse ran past the dais, and Aysulu shot him.
There was a thunderclap that left my ears ringing. Light exploded from the mage, turning the arena brighter than day, and then darkness. Like a storm striking a tall tree, lightning stretched from the dais, striking whatever would lead it quickest to the ground.
Two bolts crackled into the nearest obelisks, and the flames atop them went out. Another hit a Serpent where he hid. Two more struck the men in armor, knocking half their number down.
When the brightness faded, the wizard was nowhere to be seen.
I took my place beside Heishiro and brought my axe down on the helmet of one of the fallen warriors. I split the helmet in two, and his head along with it, and turned to the next man.
Jahan clashed again with their leader, and this time the Sword of Heaven cut through his opponent’s weapon. The blade was severed cleanly, a hand’s breadth from the hilt. Surprised, the soldier stepped back, and Jahan found the gap between his helmet and the plate on his shoulder.
On my right, Heishiro traded blows with another armored man. I looked for an opening. Heishiro finally knocked his opponent down, but the man found his fallen companion’s broken weapon and slashed upward as he stood back up. The edge caught Heishiro across the eyes and blinded him.
Heishiro staggered backward, clutching at his face. His sword fell forgotten to the ground. I stepped in and deflected the next blow from the broken sword.
We outnumbered the Ascendeds’ forces now, but we had not driven them back. Aysulu was trading traded arrows with a Serpent and his darts, and her horse had taken one to the flank. Its steps slowed. Hualing had approached the other Serpent, flushing him from his hiding place.
The Serpent drew his swords and rushed her. She sidestepped his first blow, but the second—the poisoned blade—sliced into her shoulder.
I heard footsteps under the noise of the battle. Khalim had run to help Heishiro. I risked a momentary glance over my shoulder, and saw him pulling Heishiro away from the fighting, struggling against his panic.
“Hold still, please,” Khalim said. “I can help you.”
I caught the broken blade on the shaft of my axe and twisted it out of my opponent’s hand. I struck him across the face with my pommel, but it rang off his helmet. He took one step back, looking for another weapon.
“Heishiro—” Khalim said. Then, in the deep voice of his god that echoed from the stands, he said, “Be still!”
It was as though the sun had left the sky, torn through the smoke and the uncanny gloom that darkened the arena, and filled the space with burning light. For a terrifying moment, I could not see. I put my axe up in a guard, hoping that the man in front of me would not try a blind attack.
The light receded. I blinked to clear the spots from my vision. My axe felt lighter; the exhaustion that had weighed down my steps since leaving the mountain stronghold was gone. The cut across Hualing’s shoulder was gone, and the dart fell, harmless, from the horse.
I stepped back from my opponent and looked behind me again. Heishiro had been healed as well, without even a mark to show where his eyes had been destroyed only a moment before.
Khalim’s shoulders shook, his breathing quick and shallow. He had done a great feat, to heal without so much as touching us, but all I could see on his face was fear.
The fight was not yet over. I struck the armored man in the shoulder, and the plate broke free. Heishiro rushed in, picked up his sword, and in a single swift movement drove the blade through the opening.
The last soldier fell to Jahan and his sword. Aysulu’s arrow found one Serpent, and Hualing’s dagger the other.
It was done. Darkness still hung over the arena, as if something prevented the morning light from entering, though I could still see the sky above us.
I turned to Khalim. I meant to comfort him, and to reassure myself that he was still unhurt. He looked very small beside the first obelisk, standing in its shadow.
Before I could reach him, a terrible quake thundered through the city. The two pillars beside the dais toppled, crashing to the ground. Dust flew up on all sides. I lowered my axe, covering my face with one arm.
Wind ripped through the arena. The doors below the Ascendeds’ seats crashed open. I peered through the dust and the gloom and saw a figure approaching through the shadowed doorway.
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