IGS #4, Chapter 24

Scorio

They executed their escape after the next sleep cycle.

Scorio spent most of the ‘night’ lying on his nest of pink fronds staring up at the cave ceiling without dark vision. One arm beneath his head, the other across his chest, methodically working on his Dread Blaze mana control technique. The hours extended into infinity as his mana flow waxed and waned. It was incredibly dull, exacting work, but he could sense his improvement. Coming at it as a Pyre Lord was akin in many ways to cheating with the Delightful Secret Marinating technique. His elevated rank endowed him with greater mana control. As he finally drifted to sleep, he couldn’t help but smirk: he’d have to return to the Academy and recommend making Pyre Lord before making Pyre Lord as a shortcut to making Pyre Lord to all the students there.

Breakfast was a tense affair. Scorio bade everyone eat their portion of grilled fiend even if they tried to beg off, and then commanded the whole group run a few slow laps around the great cavern. With Iron-tempered bodies and higher, it wasn’t strictly necessary to warm up, but it got people in the right frame of mind.

“One last time,” said Scorio, facing the group outside their chosen cave. “We’re going to keep this simple and quick. Jova will open the passage into the fiend cavern. We’ll step into a stone sphere of her making, which she’ll raise as high as she can toward the surface. When she’s reached her limit, she’ll open the top of the sphere. Leonis, you’ll establish a Nezzar perimeter to weaken all fiends who try and attack. I’ll fly out and enter my dragon form so that I can punch through the ceiling and open an exit. Nyrix, you’ll open a portal to the edge of the resulting hole. Everyone passes through the portal and emerges onto the surface. Jova, Kelona, you’ll use your auras to keep the fiends from swarming into the sphere. With a little luck we’ll be back outside in under a couple of minutes. Clear?”

“Clear,” said Kelona. The others just nodded.

Scorio smiled at Jove. “Ready?”

“Let’s get it done.” She led the crew into the back of the cave which began to recede before them, the stone swarming as it responded to her power. They shuffled forward as the wall closed behind them, encapsulating them in darkness, and kept moving as their chamber rolled up the tunnel into the fiend cavern.

The stone walls of the sphere muffled the shrieks of the fiends, but their assaults on the sphere were readily apparent; the curved walls began to shiver as sharp cracking sounds came from without.

“Rising,” said Jova, and the ground beneath them lurched upward.

The sound of everyone’s breathing filled the darkness. Xandera’s dry, warm hand slipped into his own. Kelona chuckled for no apparent reason and Ignited her Heart.

“Not yet,” said Scorio. “Conserve your mana.”

“Sorry,” muttered Kelona, and guttered.

The stone sphere was shuddering continuously now, though they kept rising, the rock beneath their feet moaning and grinding as it thrust them upward.

“You all right, Jova?”

“Fine.”

Were they rising more slowly? Scorio closed his eyes and placed a hand on the stone wall. How thick had she made it? The screams from without were distant, but the fact that they could be heard at all was concerning.

“And… this is how high we can safely go,” said Jova. “One moment while I clear the outside.”

“Clear the outside?” asked Leonis.

“Scour it with flying stones,” replied Jova tonelessly.

The shuddering abruptly diminished then stopped.

“Scorio, you’re up.” The ceiling just above their heads parted, revealing the great fiendish cavern.

Scorio’s dark vision afforded him an ever widening view of the vaulted ceiling high above, the crisscrossing bridges, and the endless Silverines that swarmed across every surface.

He Ignited and rose into his draconic form, the others falling back. There wasn’t room to open his wings in the chamber, so instead he crouched then leaped, surging up and grasping the retreating edge of the skylight to hurl himself up and out into the open.

The din was terrific, mind-breaking, near overwhelming, but he’d prepared himself for the aural assault and extended his wings even as he took in the situation.

They were halfway up the cavern atop a slender column of raw stone. An orrery of boulders circulated rapidly around the bulbous sphere at its top, smashing the Silverines who surged up the column away to send them tumbling through the air to fall amongst the others below.

But the bridges were their greatest danger. Silverines leaped from the closest and those overhead to fall upon him, purple arms reaching out, tentacles thrashing.

Scorio laughed, shifted to his flame form, and flew up to meet them.

Dozens past through his black flames in moments, their musical trilling turning to screeches of pain as their sizzled and burned. Up he flew, his flame form not needing him to flap his wings, though he did so out of habit. Up, ever up, fighting for speed.

And at the last, just as the cavern ceiling rushed down to meet him, he shifted into his draconic form.

Oh glory.

To finally expand, to finally dump endless amounts of Silver mana into his Heart and unleash his true might. He expanded in moments, his flame form billowing out to become a cloud, great whorling miasma of black flame. Then he inhaled it all into his deep chest, his wings catching the air at long last.

He turned his head away, angled his wings at the very last second so that he collided with the ceiling shoulder first, and hit it with all his power.

The Silverines had sealed it with what Jova called bad rock. Fibrous, layered as if extruded by an infinitude of spiders, it was alien to the eye, milky white, and, it turned out, as delicate as chalk.

The ground erupted outward, huge chunks of pale rock bursting upward around him as he exploded out into the Silverine air.

Momentum carried him a few yards higher, up into the perennial twilight, the pale sand and harsh stones extending away on all sides, the sky a twilight field of low-hanging clouds.

The outside world.

Cool, misty air.

Freedom.

Scorio roared his delight, his savage exultation, and then furled his wings so that like a breaching whale he could turn sidelong and fall back into the warren, further smashing open the hole with a lash of his tail, to drop, his chest bursting with pent-up flame, into the warren.

Trouble.

Two of the giant Silverine Instinctuals had gathered at the base of the column and were striking at it with terrible power, knocking chunks and shards away that Jova was clearly reconstructing as quickly as she could.

Her boulders were raining down upon these two behemoths, pelting them at full speed, but though she was pulping their shoulders and backs, it wasn’t enough to kill them outright.

The column, consequently, was swaying violently as ever more Silverines leaped down from neighboring bridges to grapple the sphere and try to pour inside.

Scorio turned as he fell, wings still pressed to his back, Silverines leaping for him and missing as he scythed down, then he snapped open his wings and pulled up to unleash his black flame across the twin Silverine monstrosities.

His burning breath billowed out to engulf them both in a crescendo of ebon destruction, and then he was past them and pulling up, constrained by the pillars and bridges.

For a second he considered reverting to his humanoid scaled form, and then he changed his mind and beat his wings powerfully, climbing, climbing, twisting and straining as he threaded a path through the bridges to reach the column’s top.

Silverines leaped atop his broad back only to slide off his Shroud and fall spinning to the ground below.

Scorio slammed into the bridge closest to the sphere, grasping at it with his foreclaws and pumping his wings as he twisted and tore.

The bridge shattered, spilling dozens of fiends into the air even as more hurled themselves desperately at them.

Only to pass through black flame as he became fire once more. He pulled away, circled the column, and returned to his physical form as he slammed into the next bridge, smashing clear through its delicate center. His talons raked the strange stone, dislodging massive chunks and scores of fiends that shrieked their fury.

Turning his great head, angling his long neck, he spewed forth flame along the length of a higher bridge, immolating the fiends that swarmed along its length.

A bolt of white fire flew upward.

Nyrix’s bolt.

Scorio shoved off what was now a pier, and curved around the column once more, angling his shroud as he went to deflect more fiends, peeling others off the sphere itself with his grasping talons to hurl them away, not even bothering to crush their forms.

Then a terrific CRACK sounded from the base of the column, which abruptly dropped five feet, shuddered, and began to tilt and fall.

Scorio didn’t think. He swooped around the falling spire of stone and turned to grasp it with all four feet, sinking his claws into the rock as he beat his wings powerfully.

The lurching fall slowed, stop, but the weight was tremendous.

Scorio roared with effort as he shoved back, his wings stirring up a storm as they thrashed the air with extreme effort.

Fiends swarmed over him, and though he deflected most of them with his Shroud, he couldn’t focus on anything but keeping the tower aloft.

JUMP, he roared at the Silverines, and half their number did as he commanded.

The rest set to tearing his scaled armor apart with their fanged maws.

He couldn’t shift into his flame form. Couldn’t do anything but strain mightily to keep the forty-yard tall column from falling too quickly.

Pain blossomed across his form as the Silverines crawled over him.

JUMP! he commanded again, and once more a large number obeyed.

Another great shattering sound came from below, and the column suddenly lurched forward, rock shattering as it tore free from his talons to fall in the opposite direction.

It all happened so fast.

Scorio fell back, his wings buffeting the cavern wall, which, even as Silverines rushed over him, he used as a springboard to hurl himself back after the falling tower, curling down and below it to press his shoulder against the toppling mass.

But it was too heavy, and he didn’t have enough traction. The tower, athwart his huge shoulders, fell toward the ground at a slightly lessened pace.

He had but seconds to react as he was driven to the ground. Silverines rioted across his form, tearing at this scales, but the ground was rushing up, he should shift to flame, avoid being crushed, but if anyone was still in the sphere—

Scorio braced for impact and roared again as he hit the ground, legs flexing as the weight of the tower slammed him down. For a second he strained, seeking to lessen the impact, and only then did he shift into flame so that the tower could cut right through his center and hit the cavern floor.

For a moment his flame body was dispersed. His mind fragmented as he spun about in curlicues of flame, and then he reformed, urgency renewing, to become his draconic corporeal self, flame inhaling into his chest. Coiling about, he bathed the length of the column in fire, then swung his body about, using his tail as a great whip with which to slap dozens of Silverines away even as he placed his Shroud over the broken sphere.

Movement from within.

He backed up and with a great foreleg hurled a hovering chunk of curved stone aside. Jova and Nyrix lay within, the Dread Blaze unconscious, Jova alive but dazed.

The others had to have passed through Nyrix’s portal.

Scorio curled his talons about each body and leaped, tightening his Shroud about himself as he fought for air. Silverines fell upon the great expanses of his wings, tore at the leathery surface, and just as Scorio had lifted a handful of yards off the ground a behemoth Silverine came lumbering into him with great power, knocking him back so that he almost lost the vector of his flight to fall and crash to the ground.

But he strained, fought for each inch of elevation, and bellowed again with his command aura for the Instinctuals to leave them be.

Most willingly leaped off his form.

Up he flew, straining, muscles burning, his Heart blazing with Silver mana. What he wouldn’t have done for Gold! Higher he climbed, Silverines falling mindlessly upon his Shroud that he angled before him, his tail lashing back and forth to knock others away as they flung themselves at him laterally.

Up, up, and then Jova stirred in his taloned fist and rocks came flying up from below, a deluge of raw-edged stones that formed a spiraling funnel around them, knocking fiends away.

There.

The surface.

With a great roar, Scorio slammed his way through the delicate span of one bridge, shattering the strange stone and sending fiends flying, then cleared the edges of the great hole with his Shroud and flew up and out into the air.

Leonis, Nyrix, Kelona, and Xandera were standing back-to-back, fighting off the Silverines.

The ground beneath them shuddered and a great swathe of rock tore itself free from the ground, lifting the quartet into the air. They swayed, cried out in alarm, then saw Jova stretching an arm and understood.

Scorio fought for altitude, battering the remaining fiends on his body with commands to leap off, and soon he was free of their tearing fangs.

Nyrix remained unconscious, but Jova was alert. She dragged the platform of rock behind them as Scorio beat his way through the skies, leaving the warren with its hissing and furious Instinctuals behind.

He angled wide, carving a great curve over flinty white hills, casting for the Red Road, and when it finally loomed out of the fog he descended, releasing Jova at the very last so that she dropped into a stretch of sand. He landed awkwardly on three legs, the fourth holding Nyrix carefully, and shifted down to his human form even as he lay Nyrix down upon the blood-red paving stones.

The platform of rock settled down beside them, and the other Great Souls and Xandera hurried off.

“We did it!” Kelona let out a whoop. “Fresh air! Sky! Clouds! The great dismal wasteland of the Silver Unfathom!”

“How is he?” asked Jova, limping over. Something was wrong with her left leg, and blood ran down the side of her face, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Scorio knelt beside Nyrix. The man was pale and covered in dust. One arm had too many joints, while blood was bubbling in his nostrils as he breathed.

“Falling is the worst,” said Leonis grimly. “Trust me on that one.”

“I tried to stop the tower.” Scorio studied Nyrix’s pale visage. “I did my best.”

“We know,” said Jova. “This was a battle. People get hurt.”

Scorio knew that truth, but still. “What can we do for him?”

“Get him to the Red Keep.” Jova stared south. “Maybe there’s someone there with healing powers.”

Xandera knelt on Nyrix’s other side. “Maybe he’ll just wake up like Leonis did?”

“Let’s hope,” agreed Scorio, then blew out his cheeks.

Jova squeezed his shoulder. “Good work. Everyone. We did well.”

Bitterness made Scorio want to protest, but he wasn’t a Flame Vault any longer. He was a Pyre Lord, and had to act like one. “Agreed. We need to get him to the Red Keep as quickly as we can. I can fly him in my man-dragon form without needing to stop. Jova, can you bring the—”

“Peaceful overtures!” trilled Sybelleo as they descended from the mists. “Gladsome emotions of relief and joy. You are alive!”

Scorio rose to his feet. “You.”

“This time it is not fate that draws us together, but my own wise patience!” Sybelleo spread their arms and smiled. “For eternal ages have I loitered close by, praying for your delivery, and the Silverine Suns must have heard my prayers, for here you are!”

“You didn’t warn us we were standing atop a massive warren of Instinctuals,” said Scorio. “You must have sensed it. The Silver mana below.”

Sybelleo bleated in consternation. “Instinctuals are another race entire, they care nothing for my refined thought patterns, would have consumed me whole. Allow these thoughts to perish! I would never—”

“You’re telling me you didn’t know there was a warren? A massive amount of Silver below us?”

Sybelleo spun in a circle, voluminous skirts flaring out. “I sensed it too late, and cry my warnings I did, but by then the ground was giving way—”

“Ironic,” cut in Scorio again. “Given that you’re trying to sell your services as a guide through the Silver Unfathom. I thought you were infallible.”

Sybelleo opened and closed their mouth.

“Or perhaps you just hoped to snag one of us as the rest were consumed.” Scorio realized he wasn’t feeling much of anything at all. “But since we all fell inside, you were left without prey, and so hung around, hoping for at least one of us to escape.”

“Eternal mortifications upon such thinking!” bleated Sybelleo. “Innocent of such perfidious stratagems am I, poor Sybelleo—”

But he was already rising up into the air.

“No you don’t,” whispered Scorio. He Ignited his heart reflexively and bellowed: DOWN!

His command reverberated through the air, and the Silverine Philosopher abruptly dipped back toward the ground, mouth opening into a perfect circle.

Scorio flowed into his flame form and swam through the Silverine, causing the fiend’s skirts to erupt into flame even as their flesh blistered and blackened. Sybelleo screamed, but Scorio became flesh, having grown into his draconic form, and exhaled more flame directly into the Philosopher’s face.

Sybelleo’s head charred and fell apart.

One swipe of his searing talons caused what remained of the Philosopher’s head to sail free from their shoulders, and the Silverine collapsed to the ground beside the Red Road to sizzle and pop as their flesh continued to cook.

Scorio landed.

The others were staring at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m taking Nyrix to the Red Keep. Stay on the road move as fast as you can. I’ll see you all soon.”

Jova, expression grim, nodded once.

Gingerly, Scorio scooped Nyrix up into his scaled arms and stretched his wings out wide. He inhaled deeply of the fresh air, then took six running steps and leaped, to snap out his wings and beat them powerfully. He rose to a height of some twenty yards above the Red Road, and then put on speed, powering forward as the Delightful Secret Marinating technique poured Bronze and Iron into his Heart.

Nyrix lay limp in his arms.

Speed.

A healer at the Red Keep was his only hope.

Grim, resolved, and utterly focused, Scorio flew like the wind, and went south.