IGS #4, Chapter 23

Scorio

Everybody fanned out across the cavern floor but for Xandera, who entered their customary cave and moved to the rear wall in readiness.

“How do you want to handle this?” asked Scorio. “How many fiends, what kind of support?”

Jova stared thoughtfully into the cave. “Let’s try five. Everybody stand back. You’ll know if you’re needed.”

“Five,” said Nyrix. “All at once? All right.”

Their practice was to let in one or two at a time. Scorio studied Jova for a moment, but she ignored him, her attention total on Xandera. Then he nodded, glanced to the others, and moved back with them to give Jova room.

“Ready?” called Xandera.

“Ready,” replied Jova softly, and Ignited her Heart. The stone rear of the cave began to part. Xandera startled, stepped away, for this was none of her doing, then scampered out of the cave, lustrous mane of golden hair rippling as she moved to Scorio’s side.

“That wasn’t me!” she said, tone half-panicky.

“I know,” said Scorio, and took her warm hand in his own.

The rear of the cave excavated itself outward. The stone didn’t flow like when subjected to Xandera’s power, but rather receded, forming a tunnel with a dull, grinding sound.

Jova’s brows were furrowed, her shoulders tensed, and Scorio could sense, somehow, or perhaps he was imagining, the power she was channeling into the rear of the cave.

The grinding continued for a moment longer, and then the back of the tunnel opened into the great cavern beyond and the Silverines began to pour in.

Fast, vicious, and utterly without fear, the fiends swarmed down the tunnel, racing along its sides and ceiling, undulating and crying forth their piercing song. Scorio instinctively tensed, Heart Igniting, ready to shift or lend support if needed.

But there was no need.

The floor of their great cavern came alive, twin walls rising on either side of the Silverine’s approach to create a guided channel, then arching overhead to close into a tunnel that led straight to Jova. The Silverine’s cries echoed strangely as they rushed into this gullet, then abruptly cut off, became muffled and rich with fury.

Only one emerged from the open end to leap at Jova, purple arms extended, but a block of stone burst upward from the ground to impact it beneath the head and torso, flinging it upward with violent power. The fiend missed her by yards, turning and spinning in the air, to land on the cavern floor and scrabble for purchase.

Only for the stone to loop up and lock down around it, three, four massive bands of rock cinching tight about its carapaced form and constricting it so that its bone creaked and its shrieks became outraged.

Jova didn’t move a muscle.

The muffled cries from within the new tunnel that extended out of the cave mouth remained trapped in place. Only the very opening was visible, but this ended some two yards in at a smooth wall.

“I’ve separated them,” said Jova. “Each is trapped within a cell.”

“Damn,” said Kelona. “You made that… you made that look easy.”

Only now did Jova turn to glance back at them. “Because it was. My mastery of stone has finally unlocked. And being underground, they are at my mercy.”

Scorio felt a flexion of her will, her Heart momentarily burning bright, and the extruded tunnel behind her sank violently in on itself, compacting with finality and silencing the shrieks within.

The Silverine pinned to the ground died as the stone bands crushed it, ichor gouting forth.

Jova gazed at Scorio, and in the depths of her eyes he saw a dangerous gleam, as if she were allowing herself just a modicum of pleasure in her newfound power.

“That’s… “ Nyrix’s thick brows had risen high. “That seems like it’ll change the game.”

“To a degree. I still can’t command the bad rock out in the fiend warren.” Jova pursed her lips. “The Silverines have done something to it, infused it with their essence, so that it doesn’t respond to me. But there’s plenty of natural stone for my to pull from in here.”

“Which means what, exactly?” Scorio fought down a smile. “You have a plan?”

Jova looked back at the tunnel she’d formed, and with that deep, grinding sound it receded back into the cave, resettling into the groove that had formed in the ground beneath it from where it had excavated its own material.

Streaks of purple and fragments of corpses were mixed into the rock.

But Jova wasn’t done. She frowned, and an archway arose from the ground, ponderous and easily three yards across. She canted her head to one side, and the archway grew, more stone flowing roughly up its sides to then extend itself forward.

She wasn’t creating the new tunnel from the cavern floor directly beneath the new section, Scorio realized—she was only pulling from the anchor point. It was fascinating to see rock flow up and then out, because it hadn’t become a fluid. It was more akin to the smoothest landslide imaginable.

“With me,” said Jova, and led their group into the archway, which now extended out before them by some five yards. “Scorio, take point.”

As he moved to the fore, the entrance tightened around him, tapering to only a yard in width. The rear sealed off altogether, so that they now stood within a small globe.

“Now we advance,” said Jova, and the entire construct began to rumble and grind its way forward.

They moved at a walking pace at first, Scorio glancing around and back at the others. The bubble of rock simply forced its way forward.

“Incredible,” said Kelona. “So we can just travel through the warren inside this the whole way?”

“Not quite.” Jova’s tone was pensive. “I’ll be drawing on good rock from within this cave. The farther away we get, the harder it’ll be to move quickly.”

“And we’re far below the warren ceiling,” said Scorio. “Unless you can lift us up?”

“Everybody gather close,” said Jova, and they formed a tight crowd in the globe’s center. The walls pulled in claustrophobically tight, and then the ground shook and everybody swayed as they began to rise.

This continued for a few moments, then stopped. “We’re at the cavern ceiling,” said Jova. “I could push us through it, but we’d run into bad rock and then we’d be stuck. But yes. I can lift this chamber if we gather in tight. But I’m not sure how far I’ll be able to go before I slow down too much.”

“This works,” said Scorio. “We emerged from the tunnel and you immediately raise us up inside the bubble. Take us up as far as you can, and then you open the ceiling so Nyrix can take a shot at the ledge closest to the outside world. We pass through, and fight our way the remaining distance.”

“We’ll lose my stone,” said Jova.

“We’ll need to lose it at some point,” replied Scorio. “But with this you can get us up into the air, meaning it’ll be harder for them to swarm us. They’ll be crawling all over it, sure, but it’s still far better than facing a wave of them on the ground.”

Everybody nodded in Scorio’s dark vision. The air was starting to grow stale and warm, but the ground shuddered again as they began to descend, then the entire bubble cracked open on all sides, its walls parting and sinking back into the cavern floor.

“Incredible,” said Xandera. “Your mastery is awesome.”

Jova snorted. “It’s an improvement.”

“So when do we do this?” Leonis tone was guarded, his manner wary. “Today?”

“Xandera?” Scorio glanced to the blazeborn. “What’s the activity like outside? They getting closer?”

Xandera knelt and placed her hand on the ground, eyes closing. A moment later she waggled her head from side to side. “Not particularly. They’ve… I think they’ve sealed off the last escape route I could have worked toward. But I can sense the bad rock beginning to sink closer to us. At the rate it’s coming? We have a handful of days before they breach.”

“A handful of days.” Scorio considered. “That last span to reach the outside world concerns me. Let’s take a couple more days to train up. If anybody else can hit their next rank, it might make a huge difference.”

Nyrix nodded somberly, gaze focused on Jova, brows furrowed.

“I won’t waste any time,” promised Kelona. “I’m going to go meditate now.”

“I will, too,” said Leonis. “Do you…?”

“Sure!” Kelona punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Friends who meditate together something something something, right?”

Leonis stared at her questioningly then gave a gruff nod. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Amazing work, Jova.” Kelona began walking away backward, her grin wide. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” said Jova, but she couldn’t resist an amused half-smile.

Leonis nodded respectfully to Jova, and then followed Kelona back to the sleeping caves.

“I’ll get some rest,” said Xandera. “I’ve been… well. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’ve been working pretty hard these past few days to… you know. Some sleep would do me good.”

“We know you have,” smiled Scorio. “Nobody doubts it. Rest up.”

Xandera gave a tight smile, then a little shrug, and walked away.

“I think your new powers have made her feel insecure,” said Nyrix wryly.

“She shouldn’t be. Our powers only overlap tangentially. What she can do, what she will do, one day, is completely different.”

“Sure,” allowed Nyrix, clearly not interested in arguing. He affected sudden energy. “So! Scorio? Want to yell some wisdom at me? I could really use making Pyre Lord right now.”

Jova snorted and clapped Scorio on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to it. Good luck.”

They watched her stride away.

“Damn,” said Nyrix softly. “Her new abilities are really incredible. Complete mastery over stone. What can’t she do, now?”

“And it’ll only grow as she grows in power,” said Scorio. “I can’t imagine how terrifying she must have been as an Imperator.”

“That’s how far she got?” Nyrix studied Scorio as if searching for some sign of a jest, and then his shoulders slumped. “Of course she did.”

“So.” Scorio considered his friend. Was Nyrix his friend? The term didn’t quite fit. Companion, maybe. Associate? Apprentice? Despite how easy going he was, Nyrix possessed a certain reserve, a cool detachment, that made Scorio unwilling to claim they were actual friends just yet. “What’s your situation?”

Nyrix went to speak, caught himself, then frowned. “Situation? I mean, I don’t know. I want to make Pyre Lord. I’ve been a Dread Blaze for too long already. I’ve been working on the mana techniques for what feels like years. I’m ready, but…”

“Well, something’s not coming together for you. Here’s what I shared with Jova.” And Scorio repeated his lecture on his growing need for heat, how he’d felt that strange urge growing, how ultimately it had proved the key to unlocking his ascension. “Do you feel anything like that?”

Nyrix bit his lower lip and then slowly shook his head. “No?”

“Nothing?”

“I mean, I’m not without emotions, but… a strange urge I can’t control? A fascination with fire, or…?” Again Nyrix frowned. “I can’t think of anything specific.”

“Huh.” Scorio considered the man. “There’s got to be something. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or the fact that there isn’t is the clue.”

“What’s that mean?” Nyrix made a face. “I’m not supposed to make Pyre Lord?”

“No, that the clue to moving forward involves investigating why you don’t have that compulsion, that secret drive. Something’s holding you back.”

“All right. I mean, I’m training, I’m working hard, I… what else should I be doing?”

Scorio studied the other man.

“What?” asked Nyrix, growing flustered.

“I don’t think you really want it.”

“What do you, I don’t want it?” Nyrix’s face flushed. “Of course I do!”

“No, I think you feel like you should want it. That being a Great Soul means you need to be always advancing, but deep down?” Scorio shook his head. “I don’t think you do.”

Nyrix blinked, scowled, then shook his head sharply. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong. Your problem is that your powers allow you to be effective without getting in harm’s way. You can open portals to escape situations, relocate yourself, and in doing so, be really useful to others. Long distance attacks phase right through you. Even your attacks are from a distance.”

“So? You said it yourself, I’m effective.”

“But you get to play it safe. You’re never in the mix. When things get heated, what do you do?”

“Strategically relocate and help others dominate the battlefield,” said Nyrix, tone growing heated.

“I’ve seen you practicing. You’re calm under pressure, you keep your wits about you, and you’re invaluable in a big fight. But in here?” Scorio thumped his fist gently against Nyrix’s chest. “I don’t sense a burning fire. You’re too calm, Nyrix. Too detached.”

“So what are you saying, I need to shout more like you do?”

Scorio smiled. “Maybe. I mean, why do you want to make Pyre Lord?”

“Why?” Nyrix threw up his hands as if this was the dumbest question. “Because I want to help seal the Pit. I want to help you find the Herdsmen. I want power.”

“Do you though?” Scorio eyed him. “Want power?”

Nyrix scowled at him. “Of course I do.”

“For what?”

“I already told you.”

“Seal the Pit, find the Herdsmen, yeah, I heard that part. I’m asking about the personal angle here. The motivation that’s unique to you, your past, your pain, your ambitions. Those are generalities common to all Great Souls.”

“Because everyone wants to find the Herdsmen.”

“You know what I mean. What I’m asking is: why do you, Nyrix, want power? What makes it personal? What cause lights a fire under you and sets you to craving more?”

“I…” Nyrix opened his mouth, closed it.

Scorio held his gaze. “Until you can answer that question, you’re not going anywhere.”

Nyrix flushed. “Sealing the Pit isn’t good enough?”

“Honestly? No.”

“I signed up with you, I agreed to throw everything to the wind to help find the Herdsmen.”

“Why?”

“Why? You’re asking me that now?”

“Why, Nyrix? Why’d you throw caution to the wind to help me find the Herdsmen?”

“Because—” Nyrix was momentarily so flabbergasted he couldn’t speak. “Because of what you told us, that they’re sabotaging everything, that they’ve corrupted the people in power, that we can’t trust anything we’ve been told. We need the truth. About—about everything.”

“The truth about everything.” Scorio considered him again. “And why’s that important?”

“Why? Because the truth is important. Because… we deserve to know.”

“You see, I want to find the Herdsmen so I can kill them.” Scorio took a step forward. “They’ve manipulated us, no doubt twisted our history, lied to us, and as a result, the people of Bastion have suffered and those who fought to change things were tortured and executed. I saw their cindered bodies where they were staked out in the gruel fountain plazas.”

Nyrix’s eyes widened as he gave ground.

Scorio advanced another step.

“I was reborn a Red Lister and cast through the Final Door, and have had to fight injustice and prejudice every step of the way as a result. Who came up with the Red List? I’m willing to be it was the Herdsmen. Do you know what it’s like to be reborn as such?”

Again Nyrix gave way.

“Bravurn was a Herdmsen. I saw him behead Queen Xandera for daring to help me, for daring to dream of being more than a slave. He betrayed our armed forces to the Blood Ox, and so much more. For that I killed him, but because of him so many of our brothers and sisters died.”

Scorio’s voice was growing lethal with intensity. “Praximar. Bravurn. Daemon. All twisted by our society, all encouraged by perverted truths, all nourished by a broken system. And each step of the way I’ve paid the price, lost friends, seen good people die. So when I want say I want the truth? It’s because I see before me the faces of those who have suffered and died as a result of their lies. I carry their pain with me, their losses, their sacrifices. I want the truth because I can’t bear to live without it.”

Nyrix had gone pale.

Scorio loomed over him. “That’s why I want the truth, Nyrix. Now. Tell me. Why do you want it?”

Nyrix’s throat bobbed. His gaze was blank, overwhelmed. He took a shuddery breath, fought to find the words, failed.

Scorio put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m not attacking you. You’re my companion. I respect you. I appreciate everything you’ve done and will do. You’re a fine warrior and a good person, and there are vanishingly few people I’ll say that of. But I’m drilling this point home because I sense it’s what’s holding you back. Find a way to make this war personal. Find a burning reason why you need power. Why you must make Pyre Lord, no matter the cost. Until then?” Scorio shook his head sadly. “I think you’ll be holding yourself back.”

Nyrix clenched his jaw, eyes glassy, but finally, as if against his utmost wish, he gave a jerky nod.

“Good.” Scorio patted his shoulder then stepped back. “But don’t worry. If there’s one thing we’re all guaranteed in Hell, it’s pain, loss, and trauma. If you can’t come up with a reason, you just need to live long enough for one to be foisted on you.”

Nyrix laughed, the sound more gasp than anything else, then rubbed the back of his wrist across his eyes. “Damn, if that isn’t the truth.” He took a shaky breath. “And man, I didn’t really expect you to hit me with that kind of insight. You’re good at this.”

Scorio thought of his trials. The army he’d ended up leading, the loyalty he’d commanded until it had curdled and become fear. “Well. We’re all just doing our best.”

Nyrix gave a jerky nod. “Yeah, but apparently I can do better. I’ll… I’ll think on what you said. You’ve given me a lot to ponder.”

“Good. Rest up. We’re going to be leaving here soon.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I’ll check in with Jova. See how Leonis and Kelona are coming along. But soon. I can’t wait to get out of this damn cave and get to the Red Keep.”

Nyrix inhaled deeply, squared his shoulders, and something in his gaze firmed up. “I’ll be ready.”

“I know.” Scorio considered the man one last time, then stepped past him to move toward the sleeping caverns.

Was he good at this? For most of this life he’d been so consumed by rage that he’d never thought beyond the next step, the next trial, the next challenge. He’d made so many asinine mistakes, and the fact that he’d come up smelling like roses didn’t mean his motivations had been idiotic before. Challenging Kuragin to a duel right before his final Gauntlet run. Challenging Plassus, for that matter. Trusting Daemon. Believing that the Queen’s Edicts would hold.

Watching helplessly as Naomi had executed Valdun then murdered Alain.

Rage and naivete had been his twin pole stars, and he’d charted his course by them.

But now?

The rage was still there, but it had sunk deep, smoldered within his depths. The thought of Daemon caused it to rumble, the prospect of beating the truth out of the Herdsmen caused it to flare.

But compared to past years, it was… quiescent.

And his naivete? He’d lost that somewhere along the way, too. When he’d seen Leonis and Lianshi’s graves. When he’d realized Bravurn had murdered Queen Xandera, then betrayed all of them to the True Fiend. When he’d seen Plassus broken and ready for death. So many moments of disillusionment, of horror, of pain.

He was still guaranteed to make mistakes, but he hoped they’d be new mistakes, and not driven by his old passions, his willingness to trust authority figures who claimed to have good intentions.

And, perhaps, this new sober outlook was affording him room to do something else. To see people as they really were. To understand them better. To… help them, in some way, along their personal journeys.

To become a leader.

A Pyre Lord in truth.

“Huh.” He considered this possibility, then shook his head in wry amusement. Hell truly was a wondrous place.