All-Patron Reward: My Favorite Scenes 5: Phoenix Ascendant, Castaway Odyssey, and Challenges of the Deeps

The culmination of the Balanced Sword trilogy, Phoenix Ascendant obviously had a lot of scenes worth remembering, some I'd been waiting to write for twenty years. This is one of the hardest ones for me to decide on, because there's so many I love revisiting; Light Tanvol's magnificent death in the beginning, Condor winning the final battle against the Demonshard and becoming his true self once more, Kyri's rebirth to the true Phoenix Justiciar, and of course the culmination of Poplock's running catchphrase being spoken by his god all have strong arguments for them, as does Poplock's other real moment of awesome, breaking the enchantment on the Watchland.

Still, I have to make a decision, and it has to be one of the scenes in the grand finale battle. Even there, the choice is hard – the moment when the heroes finally realize who their adversary is contains my favorite single line: "Oh, child, you have not even asked my name.". But I think the final choice really has to be the point at which all plans collide and we finally understand the answer to the question of why Myrionar could allow so much injustice… as well as the reaction of the villain to this truth.

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"So end it, then," she said. "You hold the last of Myrionar's faith. That's what you were after."

"In part."

"In part?"

The crystal grin widened. "You still have not quite solved the riddle? Yet it was you, yourself, who assured me that my plan would come to fruition; your own words told me it was all prepared."

"What?" Desperately she searched her memory for something she could have said that would have told Virigar anything of the sort.

"You said that Myrionar had sworn an oath to you – in the name of the very power of the gods. Is this not so?"

"Yes…"

The King of Wolves waited, then shrugged. "I suppose you lack the proper perspective to solve this riddle. Master Wieran would have understood, I think.

"Simple enough, then. So far, what I have told you was the truth, just not all of the truth. I did, indeed, need everything focused upon you, so that no … ideal, no symbol, of Myrionar was strong enough to serve as another anchor for the god in this moment, not even in the minds of those who had opposed the god directly but who believed in its existence – which is, naturally, why all the false Justiciars needed to be either dead or focused entirely upon you. No symbols; only you, only the focus of all that remains. Even now, that oath binds Myrionar's last power to you. An oath that connectsMyrionar to the power of the gods, specifically to the power of its allies."

She felt the blood drain from her face. "No."

"Yes! Oh, now you see!" The face before her was the Watchland's again, but a Watchland holding her like a doll in one hand. "If I consume the very essence of Myrionar, with that oath still in force, I can consume – I can duplicate – those connections, and through them, I can slowly and surely consume all of Myrionar's allies… and they will never be able to stop it from happening, because the very power of the gods creates that connection, they can no more undo it than they can act against their own natures. I will have become Myrionar, and they will be bound to me!"

Kyri felt as though time had frozen with the pure, absolute horror of that revelation. Even Myrionar was just a tool for him. "And Myrionar…"

"… was the only reasonable choice. Such connections among the gods exist at all levels, of course, but there would be no way for me to, for example, eliminate all the priests and knights of Terian, or even of Thor or of the Three Beards. But Myrionar's faith, that still had a single, singular source, could have its outlying temples pared down, its worshippers diverted to other faiths, could be slowly reduced until I could distill it down to a single, ultimate defender, who would become the god's perfect and final vessel."

Virigar laughed, and as he laughed she felt the last strength starting to ebb away. The King of Wolves was going to win the final prize, and no justice would be done, no vengeance would be hers.

No justice?

Though her strength was fading like morning mist before the sun, her mind grasped at that thought in outrage. No. That isn't possible. After all this, with everyone believing in Myrionar – in me – I can't fail them. Myrionarcan't fail them.

And then she saw it, through shock and fading consciousness, and even though a part of her recoiled with disbelief, the rest of her simply said of course.

Justice and vengeance. These were the very foundation of Myrionar. And as Virigar had said, the gods could not act against their natures.

Yet Myrionar had. Myrionar hadn’t given a single hint to Arbiter Kelsley about the true nature of their adversary, when Myrionar had to have known. Her parents and her brother had gone unavenged, no justice done for them. All the others who had died in Evanwyl of Virigar's schemes, of Thornfalcon's malice, they had died without justice or vengeance.

But a god cannot act against its nature.

And what was it that Virigar had done?

Replaced the symbol of the Balanced Sword.

The part of her that denied the revelation turned back, and brought forth another recollection, as she had spoken to the Wanderer:

"A prophecy. You have a prophecy."

"Not… precisely. Though, perhaps, close enough for your purposes."

And then, she finally remembered one other thing:

A voice that seemed both as unfamiliar as a stranger on the street, yet so familiar that she felt she had always known it.

Kyri opened her eyes, and Virigar's laugh paused, for she was smiling.

"Injustice," she said.

"What?" The blue eyes flickered to blank, glowing yellow.

"It is impossible for a god to act against their nature. Yet Myrionar allowed so much injustice. I believe in Myrionar, and Myrionar swore that there was a way out for me, and that means that there was a reason. There was something else, something so important that even the loss of the Justiciars, the destruction of the very faith, was less important.

As the wolf-eyes narrowed, she finished, "and what could that possibly be, except the god's very existence itself?"

"But then it should have acted earlier, unless –" Virigar's eyes flew wide, wells of pure white shock. "No."

But his tone said YES.

"This is the day that Myrionar was BORN!" Fire burned through her, fire sweet and pure as justice itself, and she felt the focus of a thousand prayers upon her as Kyri Victoria Vantage spoke her final words. "I AM Myrionar!"

Chapter 42.

Tobimar realized he, himself, must have the same expression as he saw on Virigar's face in that instant: a paralyzing, stunned disbelief… a disbelief that was founded on a vastly stronger, bone-deep belief, for that deepest part of him understood, and he heard Poplock and the Watchland both murmur "Of course," next to him.

Kyri Vantage detonated in golden fire.

Virigar was flung away like a doll, the flood of power so immense that it was clear that all he could do was blunt it, even with his soul-consuming Hunger. He was blown through the mountain of rubble that had been the Retreat, to fetch up against the trunk of a massive tree, staring up as a mighty red-gold firebird rose into the sky… and then transformed into the blazing symbol of the Balanced Sword, a symbol from which walked Myrionar, Kyri Vantage burning with the power of a newborn god.

The world was silent for a moment then, save only for the subliminal hum of absolute might that vibrated from Myrionar, potency vastly greater than any Tobimar had sensed, save perhaps only that of Sanamaveridion himself, dwarfing even the power of the Golden-Eyed God. Virigar rose slowly, eyes wide enough that Tobimar could see the whites against the darkness of the false-Watchland's face.

Then a smile like lightning burst across Virigar's face, and he threw back his head and laughed, a laugh like a man told that his lost children had come home, that his daughter had become a hero of the land. Tobimar stared in confusion as the laughter continued, and then Virigar shouted in a voice that shook the earth, "MAGNIFICENT! Oh, magnificent, wonderful, superlative! To play the game across time and space itself, to make the trap of the hunter your own creation and salvation!"

Virigar spread his arms wide, as though to embrace the sights before him. "My plan is entirely destroyed, for you are a new-born god, and none of the connections you had forged before exist."

"Exactly," she said. The voice was still that of Kyri Vantage, but more powerful, more certain, and the energies of the god seethed about her weapon, energies much harder to drain when the god was aware and incarnate.

He shook his head. "Still, I can barely take in the perfection of the plan. And once more, your timing! Your symmetry! To have made my belief the final trigger of your apotheosis… MY belief, my realization and certainty of the truth, making you stronger, oh, vastlystronger in every possible way than you could have been otherwise." He chuckled, still shaking his head in admiration. "This wasn't just Myrionar's work, oh no. Khoros musthave had a hand in it, and the Wanderer perhaps. Terian, almost certainly, and maybe even the Golden-Eyed God."

"The Wanderer, certainly," Tobimar said slowly. "He knew… knew what was to come. What had already happened, in Myrionar's future."

The King of Wolves nodded, rubbing his hands together as though anticipating a most marvelous present. The whole scene sent creeping chills down Tobimar's spine. He seems surprised, yet happy. This can't have been his plan!

"And," Virigar went on, "as you have just been born, created here, you are native to Zarathan, you exist here and only here. The ban of the gods does not apply. Oh, I say again, magnificent. Not in a thousand thousand centuries have I been so completely gulled, so maneuvered by others while maneuvering myself." He bowed deeply. "My compliments and admiration to you and your fellow artists, for this is art of the highestdegree."

Then he transformed to his true form. "All I can salvage, then, is to take the soul of a pure, newborn god!"

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Castaway Odyssey is the second in the Castaway Planet trilogy, and somewhat unusual in that it introduces an entirely new cast of characters and for most of the book follows their struggles that eventually bring them to the deep-ocean world of Lincoln.

While this one has a lot of scenes I like, I didn't have to think long about it this time; it's the cover scene, where Lincoln really takes its best shot at killing off Sergeant Campbell and his boys!

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He switched to Xander's channel. "Okay, I've got the lowdown, and it's notgood. Those lakes we saw – like ours – are the mark of something that preys on these floating colonies, and what we've been doing here might just be attracting them."

"Jesus," muttered Xander. "Do we have time to load all this?"

"It's a calculated risk, but hell, if he hadn't happened to figure it out that fast – and I'll bet that was only because he couldn't sleep – we'dstill be sleeping. And we really don't want to leave this equipment behind. We're probably just fine for the next few days, but I'll be damned if we'll take any chances we don't have to. Keep me up to date – we've got thirty-eight minutes now."

By the time he'd gotten the last of the four monitors down and packed, Xander pinged him. "Excavators loaded and locked down. I thinkwe've got all the other stuff in the cargo bay sealed back up and locked down, but I want you to do a walkaround and make sure. We're not doing anything as rough as the re-entry, but –"

"Right. No point in doing this halfassed, just in case. I'm bringing in these monitors, so I'll get them in the cargo area and do the walkaround. You two go doublecheck the shelter, make sure everythingis out of it, and if you're sure, then collapse it so we can pack it away."

"Yessir."

Locking the improvised monitors into one of the hold-downs didn't take long, but doing a very careful survey of the cargo hold did require more time. By the time he'd rounded up a couple of smaller items and satisfied himself that the place was otherwise clear, the four boys were dragging the shelter up the ramp. He could tell just by the compact shape it made that they had indeed emptied the shelter properly. "Good work, boys. We've done it with minutes to spare." He went down, started to help move the shelter up. "Xander, call Dr. Akira Kimei and let him know we'll be on our way veryshortly."

"Yessir."

They got the shelter up the ramp. "Dog that down tight, boys, and then you go get in your seats and strap in. I'm doing one last check of the camp." As he walked out, he triggered the ramp to close behind him.

He was barely twenty meters from LS-88, there was a grumbling concussion that knocked him off his feet, caused the trees to sway and flying things to take off in panic. He tried to regain his footing, but the shuddering vibration was not diminishing; it continued, and in the distance he could hear cracking, groaning noises; he rolled several more meters, finally staggered up, needing sea-legs more than land-legs to keep on his feet.

Suddenly, silhouetted against the red of the sunset sky, three immense pillars reared up, pointed like curved daggers, thrusting higher, tearing through the deceptively solid earth as though it were barely there, towering over the landscape like edged mountains, then sinking down.

Chunks of stone and shreds of vegetation showered down around him, and with a sickening lurch of his stomach he realized that some of the vibration was continuing, a long, drawn-out groaning, splintering noise like a sheet of wood ten miles long being torn asunder. The ground's tilting!

"Sergeant!" Xander's voice was panicked.

The shout galvanized him to action. He glanced to the shuttle, and saw – racing across the campsite from one side to the other – a dark, dust-smoking crevasse. He looked from where he stood to where the airlock was, measuring distances, his steadiness, and knew. I'll never make it, not in time.

Without hesitation, he triggered the overrides; the airlock of LS-88 closed and sealed, all doors now locked with a code that couldn't be overridden even by Xander for two hours. Then he gave the autopilot the liftoff command. At the same time, he shut off his comm; he knew what Xander and the others would be saying – screaming – at him, and none of it would make any difference now.

The tilt was growing steeper now, and he could see that his piece was tilting towardsthe side that LS-88 was on, while LS-88 was tipping in his direction. Get off the ground, you lazy bird!

Even as the wing jets' whine rose towards full power, the ground he stood on began to crack. His omni was blinking for attention – looked like the Kimeis trying to reach him, too. Below he could hear a roaring, a thunderous sound of water surging, raging up while the pieces of the island rotated farther and farther towards the vertical. Oh hell, this isn't good. Either I'm gonna get smashed between these two pieces, or –

LS-88slid sideways, then skidded drunkenly into the air, the simplistic autopilot trying with all its programmed skill to compensate for the impossible. Go, go, dammit, GO!

Samuel Campbell felt himself starting to slide down towards the crumbling intersection of the pieces of their camp, and looked up. He didn't really want to see just how he was going to die. I just want to know –

The shuttle had stabilized, was climbing, moving up, starting to move out from between the two gigantic slabs of moving island… when a shard broke off above and ahead, a shard a mere hundred meters or so long and fifty wide, falling, bouncing outward, plummeting down…

The autopilot couldn't avoid it.

Campbell heard himself curse as the white and green mass hammered LS-88's starboard wing, shattering it, spinning the entire vessel completely around, twisting the other wing with the violence of the impact. "Xander! Boys! HOLD ON!"

Like a dying bird, LS-88 plummeted from the sky, vanishing behind one of the huge slabs even as the roaring from below told Campbell that it would not be earth, but water, that wrote his epitaph.

The impact was a sledgehammer dark as the blackness that claimed him.

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Challenges

In Challenges of the Deeps, I was in the position of knowing that I likely would not be writing another Arenaverse novel for years, and almost certainly not for Baen unless Challenges was an unexpected runaway bestseller. That put certain pressures on me to try to tie up multiple threads so that the series had, if not an ending, at least a decent stopping point.

For these purposes, that means that I really stuffed quite a few moments into this book that might have otherwise been spread out across two or three books, and thus we're back to one where choosing a favorite scene is hard. Vindatri's greetings of both DuQuesne and Ariane, the grand battle against the Molothos, the even more vital one against Vindatri, the quieter but vital scenes in which DuQuesne and Ariane finally act on their long-standing attraction, and of course the final scene in which Ariane completes her victory over the Molothos with an act of kindness all have much to recommend them.

In the end, though, I have to go with Sun Wu Kung's victory in a race where all the odds were stacked against him.

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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 dozenpillars 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 onlyagainst 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 blue 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.

Onesecond, 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.