I held the cannon to my side, aimed it as best I could from my hip, and pressed the button. Both the recoil and the heat from the plasma bolt hit me like a punch. Bright energy filled the air as my stolen cannon roared in my hands. The skiff to my right exploded in a cloud of fire before it slammed into the ground. I wasn’t sure I’d have any eyebrows left after that shot, but I didn’t care.
The second skiff decided it was better to flee, but I lined the cannon up a second time and fired. The second explosion was just as beautiful as the first. I held the cannon in one hand, moved down the skiff, and punched a hole through the glass cockpit. The pilot screamed as I pulled him up and tossed him onto the ground below. I jumped down from the descending vehicle, and it crashed to the ground behind me before it exploded.
Beatrix rode her hoverbike to me. “You did that quickly,” she said.
“I’m efficient,” I said with a smile.
“You crazy fucker,” Reaver said after she’d rode her bike to meet us.
“Must leave!” Skrew said. “Still too close to Brazud! Stinky king will come!”
A roar sounded from above, and I spotted rows of black smoke, dark as tar in the sky. A skiff identical to the others, but much larger appeared. It was bristling with weapon pods, antennae, and small launch doors. The launch doors opened, and a ladder unfurled. A huge figure started to descend the rope to the ground.
I checked the cannon I’d stolen from the skiff and found it burned out. Just like the one I’d taken from the mech. It seemed the Fex wasn’t exactly a limitless power source.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Reaver said.
“No,” I said as I pocketed the Fex.
“What?” Reaver’s face twisted with emotion.
The figure had reached the ground and was slowly walking toward us.
I knew who it was.
He had dark pits in his skeleton-like head, pale skin, and a wide mouth that reached to where a human’s ears would be. A red and gold robe trailing to his feet left no doubt. I hadn’t exactly been close enough to him in the arena to see him exactly, but I knew who he was.
King Demetrios.
“Go!” I yelled to my friends. “I’ll meet you in the forest outside Yaltu’s hideout. I’ll deal with the king.”
If I managed to kill him, then it would buy enough time for the others to escape. Even a fight would delay the soldiers a little so my friends could put some distance between them.
“That’s an order,” I added when Reaver didn’t move.
She swallowed back a reply, revved her hoverbike, and then started off through the city outskirts, toward the forest. Beatrix followed behind her, covering her rear.
I turned to face the king.
He stood about eight feet tall. The stiff wind from the moving skiff caused his black tunic and pants to press against his skeletal body and made him look like he’d been assembled from someone else’s bones.
The king stopped twenty yards away from me. We stood staring at each other for several seconds, long enough for a few small pieces of skin to peel from his face and be thrown to the wind. Even though he looked like he was far beyond his expiration date, he had an aura and a presence of unmistakable power.
He wasn’t going to go down easy. But why the hell was he here? Why hadn’t he just sent more soldiers? Why come himself?
Demetrious lifted a hand to the skiff, and it began to rise into the sky, gaining altitude. Then it vanished back toward the city.
Now we were really alone. I was getting really weird vibes from him, but at least now I didn’t need to worry about getting rained own by particle cannons.
Demetrios reached up with one hand and unhooked the clasp at his throat, sending his cloak to ground. He wore carapace armor, made of a metal I didn’t recognize. It gleamed in the sun’s light and glittered like it was made of diamond.
He wasn’t carrying any weapons, as far as I could see, but there was a dull silver scepter at his waist. I wondered if he planned on trying to beat me to death with it. I also wondered if it was more than it appeared to be, like Ebon.
A foreign sound assaulted my ears. It was like a thousand bats were being burned alive. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I realized where the sound was coming from. The king was laughing.
“It has been long since I have had a worthy opponent, Jacob,” the king said. His voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It pierced me, flowed through me, and chilled my bones.
“I didn’t pick you for the type who liked to fight his own battles,” I said.
“So many others have come before you, yet none were worthy,” Demetrios hissed. “I have killed many, but none could even scratch me. Did you know, Jacob? Did you know that’s what the tournament was for? It was to find opponents. It was to find warriors worthy of dueling me. I killed them all. I killed the champions. And they were all a sad disappointment.”
“Running a city of terrified slaves must get boring,” I said. “Gotta keep busy somehow, right?”
He began walking toward me. His pace was casual, as if he expected me to bow before him, beg for his mercy, or possibly make him a sandwich. None of those were going to happen.
Demetrios reached for his scepter and lifted it was between us. He wiggled his thumb against it, and a pair of
