by Spoor,Ryk E
“Just a bit. Like you did before.”
That didn’t completely keep him from losing ground, but once they hit the second no-gravity section Wu started eating up the space between the two …until an unexpected flurry of zikki intercepted him in mid-leap. Wu managed to beat them down with his staff and claws (since no inter-competitor combat was allowed, apparently the Arena didn’t object to either Wu’s staff or the chain-link belts that Tunuvun wore), but by that time Tunuvun was scrambling across the ice and tundra, seven hundred meters and more ahead of Wu.
And it kept happening. Every good hand DuQuesne got, somehow Byto had a better one. He couldn’t bluff or trick his opponent. Reading a guy’s tells doesn’t help much when all it tells you is that he’s going to hand you your head on a platter.
At the same time—ominously—Byto had stopped throwing obstacles at Wu. Wu was slowly making up ground, but by that time it was looking very grim. Wu was almost a full kilometer back and the two were toiling their way across the badlands, with Tunuvun—wearing a desperately focused, yet despairing expression—about to enter the immense building for the final stretch.
“I am very much afraid,” he heard Orphan say, “that our friend is going to lose.”
DuQuesne looked up, and finally grinned. “That would be a really bad bet to make.” He lowered his voice—even though he didn’t need to. “Wu, this guy’s kicking my ass, luck’s on his side every moment. So it’s time to stop playing around.”
“You mean it?” He heard the excited tension in his friend’s voice, and chuckled.
“I mean it, Wu. Go, Wu, GO! Go all-out and show them what Sun Wu Kung can do!”
Wu laughed aloud with delight, and there was suddenly a murmur, a rumble, a roar from the crowd, an outcry of stunned disbelief as the Hyperion Monkey King tore his way across the remaining badlands at a speed that made Tunuvun seem to be standing still. Ariane’s jaw dropped, and then she began clapping furiously, the other members of Humanity joining her.
Byto made a noise that DuQuesne was sure was something obscene, then turned his head to his cards.
But, DuQuesne noticed with concern, he still did not call for a single obstacle.
The building-maze was now visible to everyone, and Tunuvun sped through corridors, along perilous cables suspended over drops, through narrow tunnels, always at speeds to put a human runner to shame. But behind him Wu Kung burst through the entrance and ran so fast that as he turned a corner of a corridor he was running on the wall, then bounding back and forth between the walls enclosing an otherwise empty space, spurning the tightrope there as too trivially easy, satisfying the Arena’s requirements by constantly re-crossing the path of green sparks.
DuQuesne made another play, lost, saw his last stake appear in his account. I have no idea how many points Byto has now. He heard an incomprehensible mutter, saw Tunuvun stiffen and redouble his efforts, leaping from isolated pillar to pillar in yet another room; but halfway across, Wu Kung streaked into view, jumping not from one pillar to the next but clearing half a dozen pillars in a single impossible jump, then another and another, passing Tunuvun as both reached the far side of the room.
The Genasi leaned forward and, somehow, wrung another burst of speed from what had seemed to be his ultimate effort, but he was still falling behind at a ludicrous pace. Wu was ahead by a hundred meters, two hundred, four hundred, outdistancing his opponent effortlessly, closing in on the final room: a huge cylindrical room, two hundred meters across with two narrow golden paths leading to the white-sparkling finish line; twenty meters below the paths was a circular platform a hundred fifty meters across, and below that the room dropped away immeasurably.
And then he heard Byto say “Arena, I request my first stake.”
Holy Mother of God. That means he’s just—
As Wu Kung entered and began the final sprint, the golden path dissolved beneath him, sending him plummeting to the flat, silvery platform below. Even as he struck, four shapes materialized at the cardinal points of the circular floor, four shapes clad in unmistakable armor: Adjudicators.
“We have lost,” Orphan said quietly.
Chapter 10
Wu Kung landed in a crouch-and roll, came to his feet in the precise center of the platform, saw the figures—one Dujuin rhino-like creature, two Daalasan like armored frog-men, and one spidery Milluk in the silvery Arena armor—appear from nothing around him. Adjudicators! The Arena’s own peacekeepers!
Then he heard Orphan’s quiet despair, and rose to his feet, grinning savagely, baring his fangs to the Adjudicators as they raised their own weapons. “I gave my word to Tunuvun and Ariane that I would win this,” he said, and his own speech echoed across the chamber and was repeated throughout the great amphitheatre beyond, its murmurs resonating back to his own ears. “And Sun Wu Kung has never broken his word!”
He leapt towards the Milluk, and suddenly felt as though the air itself had condensed, become a mud-thick sludge that dragged at his limbs. A trap, like the hidden swamp of Numachi no O, the Kappa King!
This would make it a challenge!
Now he dug deep into his reserves, feeling strength and speed flooding into him as he unleashed everything. DuQuesne said I didn’t have to hold back! With a lunge he sped towards the Milluk, ducking under a bolt of energy from the Duijin and outdistancing the two Daaalasan. Two of the Milluk’s legs crossed, blocking his strike, but the creature was driven back almost a full meter, approaching the edge of the suspended floor.
But the others were closing now, their weapons shimmering with energies he was sure were meant to stun and disable their foes on contact. But I still have Ruyi Jingu Bang!
He spun about, whirling the great red-enameled, gold-ended staff in a blur that made the speed of the Adjudicators sluggish, parrying strikes of three of the four. The fourth, a narrow-pointed trident, slid past his guard and hammered directly into his chest.
The impact was startling, a strength he hadn’t felt in years except sparring with DuQuesne. These Adjudicators are good.
The field did not seem to impede him skidding across the floor, tumbling towards the opposite side, yet it did slow his arms as they extended out, as his feet’s claws reached out and dug, and he saw drops of blood trailing in the air, slowly falling to his perceptions as he sought to stop his swift career towards the precipice. It works against me, and only against me.
Claws struck and gripped the platform surface, sending a shrill, ear-piercing shriek like a thousand nails drawn across a thousand blackboards, slowing his progress just enough. He rebounded from his crouch, met the two froglike Adjudicators halfway across the platform, moving through the impeding field as though it were thin air, and heard the gasps finally echoing from the unseen audience, the rustle of them slowly, slowly rising to their feet, leaning against the spectator rails, as they realized something extraordinary was playing out before them.
In the distance he could hear feet running, closing in, and knew that he didn’t have long before Tunuvun arrived.
Ruyi Jingu Bang ducked down and then up, clotheslining both Daalasan beneath their armored chins. Wu Kung pressed forward, the impact and Wu’s strength tearing the two Adjudicators from their feet, dragging them forward with the Hyperion Monkey King and forcing both the Milluk and the Dujuin to brace for collision. Wu braked, flipped up, and came down, aiming a blow for a precise point on the Milluk’s armor. If I guess its anatomy right…
The creature tried to turn, even as it fended off the momentarily incapacitated Daalasan, but it was just one hair too slow. The golden ball on the end of the Monkey King’s staff crashed into its armored carapace with enough force to dent both the armor and the golden ball—a ball made of ring-carbon composite. The creature spasmed, legs clenching inward like a stunned spider, and fell, rolling back and plummeting into the unguessable void below.
Now Wu Kung faced the three remaining Adjudicators and matched staff and feet and fists with their weapons, limbs, and armor. A blaze of b
lue energy from a silver bludgeon made his limbs momentarily seize up, and the Duijin took the opening, grabbed him, slammed him with groundshaking force into the shining platform, then lifted him to hurl him into space.
But Wu Kung’s tail seized the rhinoceros-like head about the neck, used the power of its own throw to jerk it savagely forward, then Wu flipped around and used a double-heel kick to send it spinning helplessly into the void.
Two left, and these worked as a team, taking him deadly seriously; he could smell they knew these victories were no flukes, no lucky accidents; disbelief rose high, almost as high as determination in their scents, disbelief that he could move as he did in their field of solidified air. Tunuvun’s footsteps were closer now, approaching the entrance and the final path to victory.
The Daalasan pursued him relentlessly, pushing their own speed and strength—obviously boosted by the Arena—to match his own. But strength and speed were only as good as the skill to use them, and was he not Sun Wu Kung, the Great Sage Equal of Heaven? Wu laughed, laughed at the sheer joy of finally, finally finding an opponent in this world to test him to the limits, even as the two at last passed his guard with sheer determination and strength to momentarily match his skill and guile, striking his head with force enough to snap it around, blood spraying from his mouth, pain shocking, hot and urgent as the footsteps that were approaching above.
But he tumbled away, a fall turned into a handspring, a lightning-fast succession of somersaulting leaps that sent him springing into space, rebounding off the far wall, and diving back, bouncing from the floor to sweep one froglike creature’s feet from beneath it and then grappling with the other, gritting his teeth and ignoring the shocking pain as he grasped the energy-charged staff and tore it from the Adjudicator’s shocked grasp, hurled it away, and then sent the third Adjudicator plummeting after his weapon.
Above, Tunuvun’s feet were on the final path, sprinting at full speed across the gap, as Wu faced the last Adjudicator. With none of his allies to concern him, the Daalasan unleashed a torrent of electrical bolts, a network of destruction and shock that should be impassable, invincible.
But Wu could see the writhing of the bolts, follow the Daalasan’s intent, his weaving of his tapestry of thunderbolts, and duck under one, leapt through a hole, brushed off the cramping shock of one bolt, and brought down Ruyi Jingu Bang to be parried at the last second by the wide-eyed Adjudicator. The roar of the crowd, distant though it was, was still nigh-deafening, and Wu strained to hear the final footsteps above, charging hopelessly towards the goal that honor demanded Tunuvun reach and his people prayed he would not.
Five seconds, he thought as a machine-gun-fast exchange of staves ringing against each other sent both of them staggering back for an instant. Four seconds, and the Adjudicator fired a wide-bore blast of force that would have sent Wu hurtling away into space had he not read that motion at the last possible moment, tumbled to the side. Three, and he retaliated, knocked the Adjudicator’s staff aside and rammed his elbow home at a point just below the throat that stunned the creature. Two seconds, and the Adjudicator tumbled limply away and slid over the edge as Wu Kung turned, judging distances, seeing Tunuvun only a scant few meters from the far doorway and the finish line.
One second, and the crowd had gone silent, breaths and movements, even thoughts being held as the final moment of the race had come; Wu shouted the command, and Ruyi Jingu Bang extended, doubling its length in the blink of an eye, catapulting him up to the doorway at the very instant Tunuvun reached his, and past it, over, through, breaking the white-sparkling line of victory.
Chapter 11
Even as Wu crossed the finish line, he was suddenly there in front of Ariane, skidding to a halt not three meters from the table at which DuQuesne and his opponent were seated, surrounded by rank upon rank of spectators, silent, staring, frozen in disbelief and shock. Even though she had been warned, Ariane was herself still in a state of utter awe. DuQuesne had said Wu was better than him. But this…
And then the silence broke and a roar of applause, of furious curses and mighty cheers, broke over the Arena like a wave. Tunuvun caught up Wu Kung in an embrace that must have made even ring-carbon supported ribs creak, and his words were incoherent but needed no translation to hear the joy and gratitude.
Orphan was moving forward along with Ariane, and she saw his body’s pose echoed a new emotion: vindication.
Wu escaped Tunuvun’s grasp only to be swept into a bear-hug of victory by DuQuesne. “Dammit, Wu, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t ever cut it that fine again!”
The Hyperion Monkey King was grinning, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Those Adjudicators were not playing, DuQuesne! I really had to work! It was fun! Lots of fun!”
“It was a most …artistic finish, Sun Wu Kung,” Orphan said, with a full pushup-bow. “Such a victory will be remembered long indeed.”
That strange expression remained clear on the alien’s face and form, and Ariane wondered what it meant. You learned something there. You were looking utterly disappointed before, almost crushed really. Now you’re riding high. “Did you have a bet on this match?”
“Ahh, Captain Austin, I think you have come to know me well. Yes, a most interesting result, and most profitable as well.” His black eyes seemed to twinkle at her. “But we shall speak of this later. It is time for the victor to receive his prize.”
The crowd which had begun to flood the center of the ring fell back—or was gently shoved back by the glittering golden light of the Arena. “Sun Wu Kung,” the calm, quiet yet thunderous voice of the Arena began, “Step—”
“We object!”
The voice was the rough bass of Byto, echoed by the higher-pitched precision of none other than Selpa’A’At, who had reached the side of his selected champion. “Arena, we object!”
The entire crowd went deathly silent, and Ariane looked around nervously. “What’s going on?”
Orphan was studying the Leader of the Vengeance with a clinical air. “While it is rare, it is possible for a Challenger, or Challenged, to object that some aspect of a Challenge was unfair or that somehow the result was rigged against them. These objections are rarely sustained—the Arena is, after all, the overseer of the Challenges—but it is their right and it has been known to work.”
After a moment’s silence, the Arena spoke. “Your objection will be heard. However, only the relevant parties shall be involved in the discussion.”
Without even a blink, Ariane found herself in a smaller—but still huge—room with only DuQuesne, Wu Kung, Tunuvun, Byto, and Selpa. Even the far more experienced Leader of the Vengeance looked startled and disoriented. “State your objection, Selpa’A’At of the Vengeance.”
Recovering from his startlement, Selpa lifted his manipulators and pointed to Wu Kung. “He has been enhanced to a degree that reveals malfeasance in this contest. Either a Shadeweaver or an Initiate Guide has provided him with capabilities beyond those allowed any of us in the Arena.”
“You are saying I cheated?” Wu Kung began to lunge forward, tearing free of even DuQuesne’s attempt to restrain him; without warning he was pinned to the ground by a force beyond even the Monkey King’s ability to oppose.
“Violence will not be tolerated,” the Arena said dispassionately. “There was no cheating or manipulation, Leader of the Vengeance.”
“Do you think I would have tolerated cheating?” Tunuvun demanded. “I do not know how my brother Wu Kung did what he did, but you—”
“Is it not true that the Shadeweavers and Initiate Guides have powers to sometimes conceal their work from even you, Arena?” Selpa said, ignoring Tunuvun’s anger.
“It is,” the Arena conceded calmly. “But this is irrelevant to the current instance.”
“We know the rules, Arena! Any species may enhance its individuals only so far beyond their natural level! We have seen what the other humans can do, and there is no possible way in which this—”
Du
Quesne raised his hand. “Hold on. Arena, there are …elements of our security here that may be relevant.”
“Understood.”
Tunuvun stopped and gave a narrow stare at DuQuesne, and then at Wu Kung, who met his gaze with a swift nod.
Ariane thought she was finally getting an inkling of what was going on—of what DuQuesne was implying—and it sent a chill down her spine …whether of fear or excitement, though, she wasn’t sure.
“Show them.”
Everyone suddenly stared at Wu Kung as he rose, slowly, from the floor, glaring furiously at Selpa and Byto. “Wu, are you sure—” DuQuesne began.
“SHOW THEM!” shouted Wu Kung. “Show them and bind them to never speak of it, but show them, so they will know that my honor remains!”
“Ariane Austin, do you give permission?”
Ariane looked from Wu to DuQuesne. “Marc? What am I giving permission for?”
Marc’s brows were drawn down, but not in anger; in pained sympathy. “To show these two why Wu’s so far beyond everyone. Why it’s right that he is. To show them …Hyperion.”
“What?” Ariane was stunned. “Arena? You could do that?”
“Yes.”
She saw DuQuesne start to speak, then close his mouth with a visible effort. He wants to say something more, but he’s not. He’s letting me figure it out on my own. “Can and will you do as Wu asked? Show them, but not allow them to tell anyone else of secrets learned here, in any fashion?”
“Yes.”
Great. Now I just have to decide what to do. “What happens if I say no? Selpa, you have the Arena’s word that there was no cheating. You have Tunuvun, your selected champion, saying there was no cheating. You also have my word, if you care to take it, that there was none, and that the reason for Wu’s abilities is a secret of Humanity’s that just knowing is more valuable than I can easily imagine. Can you let it go at that?”
The Leader of the Vengeance swayed uncertainly on his spidery legs, looking even more like a harvestman than usual. “I wish I could, Captain Austin,” he said finally, and the regret in his voice sounded genuine. “But this is an entire Sphere that hangs in the balance.”