IGS #4, Chapter 19

Leonis

They must have forgotten how echoes carried in this place. Leonis sat cross-legged before his cave, hands resting lightly on his knees, and listened to Scorio berate Jova. The man’s tone was sharp and cruel, and though his words were muffled, there was no mistaking the lashing he was giving Jova.

Leonis felt his lips curdle into a sneer of their own accord. She’d probably asked him some honest questions about their situation, or proposed a plan Scorio didn’t like. And how was he responding? Like a bully.

Leonis closed his eyes but made no effort to filter out the distant voices. The harshness. No response from Jova, which surprised him. She wasn’t the kind to take insults meekly. She must be taking the high ground. Or just staring at Scorio in disgust.

Leonis inhaled deeply, pushed his chest to expand, and then exhaled slowly. Control. Of one’s emotions, one’s thoughts, one’s essence. As everyone else fell apart, it was essential to remain in control. To remain calm. No matter the injustices of Hell. No matter the company one traveled in.

His Heart burned brightly, and with great care he sought to reduce its burn, to taper the Silver mana he was feeding it, but his control was still clumsy. With little warning the amount he was loosing from his reservoir cut off, and his Heart guttered.

Damn it.

It felt like trying to sew with oven mitts on.

The shouting had stopped.

Cracking open an eye and engaging his dark vision, he saw Scorio stalking toward this end of the cavern, his brow furrowed, his expression bleak. No sign of Jova. She probably wanted nothing to do with him after that exchange.

From nowhere came a memory of Lianshi staring stonily at him as he argued against their breaking up, with her growing colder the more impassioned he became. He tasted again the frustration, the confusion. How could something so right, so good, slip out of his hands despite his best efforts?

Just like feeding mana into his burning Heart.

Had Scorio and Jova been having a lover’s spat?

Leonis considered, eyes narrowing.

…No. They hadn’t had the time, nor the space, though there was something between them. A shared intensity, a mutual respect. Something. Leonis couldn’t quite define it, though it was mystifying. They both claimed to hate the other. Perhaps that very intensity of emotion had turned over and become… something else?

No.

Leonis put the thought aside.

Scorio had stopped a dozen yards from the caves to stand, arms crossed, staring out at nothing. Lost in thought. Just as Leonis had been want to do after a fight with Lianshi. He recalled that feeling well. The sensation of all the moorings coming undone, of slipping, of certainties turning mercurial. The sense that the more you wanted something, the more it retreated from you.

He studied Scorio from above, and felt a sliver of compassion. If it had been a lover’s quarrel, then…

Leonis rubbed one eye with the base of his palm, abruptly annoyed at his own baseless speculation. What was wrong with him? He should be meditating, working on his technique, and instead he was mired in memories and guesses, and feeling—what? Compassion for Scorio? When Scorio had been the one doing the yelling?

But well he remembered his own shouting, his own confusion. His anger. His fear of loss.

Damn it.

Leonis rose to his feet, hesitated, then climbed down to the cavern floor. He approached Scorio hesitantly, second guessing his own motivation the entire way. What he’d needed during his own fights with Lianshi had been someone to confide in. To vent to. And as much as he loathed Scorio, he couldn’t in good conscience leave the man to stew alone, to suffer as he once had.

Leonis approached slowly. “Hey.”

Scorio startled, so lost in his thoughts had he been, and looked his way. “Leonis.”

“I heard the shouting.” He stopped, hands on his hips, unsure as how to broach the subject. “Are you two all right?”

Confusion, wariness, and then appreciation. “I appreciate your asking. And I don’t know if we are. Jova was asking for advice on making Pyre Lord, but…” Scorio shook his head.

“I understand.” Leonis nodded sympathetically. “Women can say one thing, but secretly mean another. They ask for advice on making Pyre Lord, but what they’re actually asking about is something completely different.” He exhaled in bitter amusement. How many times had Lianshi spoken what felt like another language, a secret code that existed beneath what he’d thought they’d been discussing.

Scorio studied him curiously. “You think she was… what?”

Perhaps Scorio was just as clueless as he’d been. “It’s impossible to be certain. Men like you and me, we’re more direct. On the surface. But women…” Leonis trailed off and shrugged philosophically. “Even an incredible person like Lianshi can choose to hide behind double meanings, ask questions that are little more than traps. Then when you say the wrong thing, it’s too late. They’ve already made up their mind.” He forced a smile. “Is that where you guys are? I can’t imagine trying to connect with someone like Jova on that level, but if that’s what you want, you can’t let her prickliness stop you.”

Scorio’s confusion seemed to grow, and then his eyes widened. “Oh. You think—no!” He laughed. “Jova and me? As in, romantically…?”

Leonis abruptly felt wrong footed, and flushed. “Wait. That’s not…?”

“Oh no. No no no.” Scorio frowned, as if considering the possibility, then blew out his cheeks and shook his head with a grin. “That… no. That wasn’t it at all.”

“Oh.” Leonis felt his face flush, and any sense of kinship with the man disappeared. “So you were just… what? Yelling at her because you’re an asshole?”

Scorio’s amusement vanished. “Not that, either.”

“Then?” Leonis crossed his arms.

“I’m not sure this is any of your business.”

“Jova’s my friend. If you’re treating her badly, I think I’ve a right to know.”

“So it was all right for me to yell at her when you thought I might want to get her into my bedroll, but if it’s not that, you have a problem?”

Leonis went to reply, but for a sickening moment had nothing to say. His flush deepened. “You know, I came over here to try and help, but clearly I was mistaken. And no. It’s never all right to yell at someone else. But sometimes, emotions… when people care for each other…”

Scorio sighed. “Look. I’m sorry. My temper’s a little short right now. I don’t mean to sound like I’m judging what happened between you and Lianshi.”

“Uh huh.” Leonis felt loose and hot within, unsure now of where this conversation was going but determined to not back down. “That’s real great of you. Because you don’t know anything about it. But just because you’re a Pyre Lord doesn’t give you the right to yell at any of us the way you were doing.”

Scorio tongued the inside of his cheek, considering him. “You’re right. I shouldn’t yell. But again, you don’t know what we were talking about.”

“Doesn’t matter. You respect Jova, you respect me, you respect all of us. You keep going on about teamwork and how you’re looking out for us. Show it with your actions, not just your words.”

Scorio blew out his cheeks. “Wow. All right. You realize you’re literally calling me on words I had with Jova, and not anything I did?”

“Very funny.” Leonis felt the righteousness of his position slackening. How was he losing ground here when Scorio was the one who’d been an asshole? “My point stands. You treat Jova like that, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“You to answer to.” Scorio nodded thoughtfully, but it was clear his temper was still up. “Well. That’s definitely put me in my place. Thank you, Leonis.”

Damn him. Damn him and his Gold-tempered body, his immense Heart, his Pyre Lord rank. All the gifts that had fallen into his lap and made him feel untouchable. Unaccountable. But he wasn’t. Leonis glared at the man, searching for a way to bring him down, to make him realize he wasn’t better than everybody else. But how?

“You know what?” Leonis heard himself speak, not even knowing what he was proposing as he said it. “Let’s have a training bout. To blow off some steam. You against me. But let’s make it fair. You can’t use any power above Flame Vault.”

“A training bout.” Scorio considered the offer. “You need to train your mana control, not how to swing Nezzar.”

“You don’t think I know how to swing Nezzar?”

“The True Fiends wept, Leonis, that’s not what I meant.” Scorio expression was now more of weariness than anger, which frustrated Leonis even more. “But fine. You know what? Fine. Let’s have a training bout. I’ve thought up until now that was a bad idea, but I can tell it’s inevitable. But even if I limit myself to Flame Vault techniques and lower, it still won’t be fair. Not like how you want.”

“I know. You’ve got your fancy Gold-tempered body and all that. But maybe it’ll be educational. Maybe I’ll learn something from your superior ways.”

“Yeah, I doubt it.” Scorio shrugged. “But at the very least we can get it out of the way. I’m going to go check on Xandera, see if she has any updates on the Silverines, and then we can have it. All right?”

“I’ll be waiting,” said Leonis, and walked away.

His heart was pounding. A training bout against Scorio.

He knew there was no chance of winning.

The man had a Gold-tempered body. His own, Iron-tempered was strong; Gold-tempered, however, was a completely different level.

He knew that.

But perhaps Nezzar could still make a dent. Perhaps if he caught Scorio just right, a double-handed overhead swing to the front of the face, perhaps he’d give the bastard something to think about.

And perhaps then he’d drop the act. Smiling, talking gently to everyone, looking all sad and wistful as he moped about like some befuddled uncle. Perhaps if pushed just right he’d reveal that inner self-righteousness that had allowed him to scorch a swathe of destruction across all of Hell and leave so many broken and dead companions in his wake.

Perhaps he’d drop the act and reveal himself before all the others for what he really was.

Or so Leonis hoped.

He clambered back up to his ridge and sat. Though he felt febrile and anxious with anticipation, he closed his eyes and focused on the mana around him. He felt light. Lethal. At ease. He wasn’t afraid of fighting Scorio. Of the guaranteed loss, the pain.

Because he was disciplined. Every moment had to go toward training, even if a bout with Scorio was in the offing. He had to focus. Work toward becoming a Dread Blaze.

Because his bout with Kelona had shown him just how limited and weak he still was. That pulse of power, her so-called Queen’s Blaze? How the hell had it rocked him so hard? More than even the punch, and that had left him seeing after-images.

No.

It was that brief burst of a moment in which he’d wanted to do nothing more than bend knee and bow his head to her glory, his chest expanding with horror and fear at her might, that galled him.

He would never bend knee. Not to another Flame Vault, not to a Pyre Lord like Scorio, to nobody.

Well. Perhaps Imperators.

But the only way to stand straight in the face of power was to manifest power of your own. To meet might with might. Just as he was going to do with Scorio. But right now? That meant playing mana games.

So he reached out for Silver and drank it into his reservoir. He pulled it into his Heart with his will alone, eschewing visualization techniques, and there resumed work on the rhythm he’d been told would help him advance to Dread Blaze.

Drink deep, then tighten your control and only sip. Burn it off, then start again.

Impatience gnawed at his mind. He’d not detected any improvement since beginning his training in serious. His mind would wander away, to memories from the past, moments that yet filled him with fury or resentment.

Even now his mind strayed ahead to the sparring session. How would Scorio approach? Tentatively, aware of being watched by the others and thus trying for an image of gentleness. Leonis would use that against him. He’d summon his ring of Nezzar’s immediately and allow them to drain his foe.

Leonis grimaced.

What a weak technique. Perhaps in an extended battle they’d tip the balance in his favor, but these short sparring bouts? Still. He had to use every advantage at his disposal. He’d ring Scorio and set to draining him, would—what if he activated them before the sparring session even began, so as to augment himself?

Hmm. That would be too obvious an attempt to balance out the disparity. And Leonis was no fool. There was no balancing out the fact that Scorio was a Pyre Lord.

No. Leonis would act calm at first. He’d have a gentle bout with Scorio, lull him into thinking he wasn’t taking it seriously. Perhaps there was something he could say at the last moment that would throw Scorio off. Something about their shared past. And then just when Scorio was off-balance, Leonis would hit him with everything he had.

Underhand?

Perhaps.

But it would get the job done.

Damn it. He’d stopped cycling mana again.

Unable to resist, he cracked open an eye and glanced sidelong to where Scorio was talking to Xandera at one side of the cavern.

A cold weight settled on Leonis’ heart. Damn. How was he supposed to compete with someone who could turn into a fucking dragon?

Leonis couldn’t help but frown. How was effort and discipline supposed to compensate for outrageously unfair powers like that?

No matter.

He closed his eyes again.

He’d yet to divine his Dread Blaze power. And perhaps his own Pyre Lord ability would put him on par with Scorio and Jova.

Perhaps.

Kelona approached hesitantly. “Hey. What’s going on? I heard Scorio having an argument with Jova, then you went over and… is everything all right?”

Leonis snorted, but then he bit back his caustic response. Stared at the distant Scorio, and frowned. “Is it just me, or does Scorio seem like a ridiculously overpowered Pyre Lord?”

Kelona eyed him confusion, then followed his gaze over to Scorio. “He sure is potent.”

“That’s not what I asked. I mean, he can turn into a dragon. What other Pyre Lord can do something like that?”

Kelona lowered into an easy crouch. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Do you think Jova as a Pyre Lady could take him?”

Kelona glanced back at him, expression guarded, and then laughed. “Who knows? But you didn’t tell me what happened. Anything I should know?”

“Everything’s fine.” But Leonis tried to picture it. Would Scorio’s dragonflame overwhelm Jova’s ability to take ever-less damage? He was a Pyre Lord, though. Her Dread Blaze power would be overwhelmed.

But what if they were even, and she made Pyre Lady?

But then there was no saying if her power suite might unify into a greater whole like Scorio’s had.

And give her what? That unification, that greater-than-its-parts kind of evolution had to meld what was already there, just as Scorio’s scales, claws, wings, and fire breathing had amounted to his being a dragon. Jova? Endless regenerative, capable of manipulating rocks, and now having them act almost independent of her own active train of thought. Plus her reputedly horrific ability to manifest a terrifying illusory image to nauseate her foes.

What might she become?

A giant rock golem? Or… ?

Leonis’ imagination failed him.

But something told him Scorio was more powerful. Somehow. As vaunted as Jova’s reputation was, as admired as she’d been, he didn’t think she could go toe-to-toe with a Gold-tempered dragon.

Could anybody? At their Pyre Lord stage?

Druanna might. He’d watched the Pyre Lady from House Kraken take on the assembled Great Souls at Praximar’s gathering and felt nothing but awe. Her twenty-foot tall stone eidolon with its six arms and massive blades was supposed to be indestructible. And she could summon black shadowed edges right out of the ground. And grow four extra arms herself with which to wield six blades.

But Scorio could fly. He could just remain above the eidolon’s reach and burn them to death.

Kelona said something, but he didn’t pay attention.

Instead he ran through the other Pyre Lords and Ladies he’d heard of. Moira wouldn’t stand a chance. Raugr? Nah. Daron from House Chimera might be an interesting fight. He could fly, and could take a lot of damage. If he could outmanuever Scorio, he could slowly carve him apart. Then again, all it would take from Scorio would be one shouted command with his authority power, and Daron might freeze in place and get charred. Octavia might be able to take an immense amount of damage, and maybe her mind control powers could do the trick, but otherwise…

Actually, yeah. That was Scorio’s biggest weakness. His mind. Who else could work that angle? Helminth might be able to awe him into submission… and ground him with her control over gravity.

Leonis considered. Nah. He’d still give Scorio the edge on that one.

His having a Gold-tempered body and near-infinite reservoir made all the difference.

“Leonis?” Kelona was staring at him.

“Hmm?” He looked over at her. “What was that?”

“Never mind. Just wondering if there was anybody Pyre Lord ranked or lower who could take him out.”

Kelona frowned. “You know, that’s a really morbid train of thought.”

“Tell me you haven’t considered it.”

“Actually? No. But there’s someone who comes to mind. Especially if she makes Pyre Lady.”

Leonis sat up. “Oh, so a Dread Blaze? Who?”

“She’s known as the Shadow Petal.” Kelona’s tone grew cold. “The one who killed Krantor and tried to assassinate Scorio. If she makes Pyre Lady, we could all be in trouble.”

“Huh,” said Leonis. “What were her powers?”

“Another time, maybe.” Kelona rose to her feet, and with a stiff smile, walked away.

What was her problem?

Leonis forced down the irritation. No matter. He resumed his efforts at mediation until Scorio crossed back to the sleeping caves and gave Leonis a questioning up-nod.

Leonis rose, anticipation and fear filling his belly with acid, and climbed down swiftly.

It was time. Finally. He flashed an easy smile at Scorio and did a light warm-up, windmilling his arms, dropping into a squat, then doing some spinal twists.

None of it was necessary. Even a pathetic Iron-tempering made your body resilient.

“Ignite at the same time?” asked Scorio, standing with his hands on his hips, expression neutral.

“Sure. Whatever. Let’s just have a little fun.”

“Yeah.” Scorio’s tone was wary. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Leonis took a deep breath. In some sense he’d been training for this moment ever since the Fury Spires. Ever since Lianshi revealed Scorio had convinced her to ditch Leonis for Juniper. Maybe even before that.

Now here he was.

Standing across from the man. Given full permission to hit him as hard as he could.

If he could.

Leonis swept Silver mana into his Heart, taking his time to pack his reservoir to full, then Ignited.

The moment he did so he felt Scorio do the same. He didn’t see it, not like Pyre Lords supposedly could, but it felt like an oven door had been thrown open.

Damn, the man’s Heart was unreal.

Leonis’ grin felt feral. He was in the best condition of his life. Months of training nonstop had brought him to his peak. Extending his hand, he summoned Nezzar. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go all out.”

“Go for it,” agreed Scorio amiably, and then grew into his scaled form.

It wasn’t a dragon, but it was still damn intimidating. Rising to some eight feet in height, he was now sheathed in black plates of armor layered over finer scales. And his head. It was draconic. Backswept horns, a snub muzzle, his burning eyes.

Damn.

Leonis fought off how intimidating it was to square off against a monster. His talons were so hot they caused the very air to shimmer, and a tail lashed the air slowly behind him.

Needing every edge, Leonis summoned the ring of clubs. They appeared around them, six in all, and started draining Scorio of power.

Scorio didn’t even flinch.

Leonis took a deep breath as the stolen power began to flow into him. It was a fair flood compared to the draining effect on Kelona, and he knew that he should draw it out, see how long he could siphon power to his own advantage.

But it would probably take hours before he had any real effect on the Pyre Lord.

He twirled Nezzar around once or twice, then summoned his own armor. Its bulk and resilience fortified his own resolve; surely even Scorio’s claws would struggle to pierce his golden plate? Who knew. Regardless, it was better than bare flesh.

But if all went well, the other man wouldn’t even get a chance to strike.

Yes.

His plan.

His surprise.

Leonis could barely breathe. Fear suffused him, squeezed his stomach even as it made his thoughts swirl. He moved forward carefully, Nezzar drawn back over one shoulder.

Scorio just watched him come.

One blow. That’s all he wanted. Needed. One solid blow. For his pain. His humiliation. To make Scorio actually see him. To realize he was more than just a big-mouthed fool, a vainglorious failure, a shadow of the man he’d been in his last life.

To provoke Scorio into revealing who he’d really been before.

Kelona and Nyrix were watching from above. Xandera had drawn close.

Still no sign of Jova.

His anger returned. He thought of Lianshi kissing Juniper, thought of Scorio laughing in approval. Thought of how everybody worshipped the ground the man walked on, all his ‘miraculous’ accomplishments.

How nobody realized what an opportunist the man was. A user. How nobody would blink twice if Leonis himself was sacrificed in order for Scorio to achieve some other superlative goal.

Yes.

One blow.

One damn blow.

Anything was worth it.

Any tactic.

Any ploy.

Scorio entered the slightest of combat crouches as Leonis drew close, watching him carefully, talons now half-raised.

Now.

Just say it.

It wouldn’t even work, Scorio would just laugh it off.

Just do it.

Say it!

Thoughts rising to a fever-pitch, Leonis moved in, muscles tensing, and just before he swung Nezzar, he barked: “It’s your fault we died!”

Scorio’s eyes widened in shock and his claws sagged.

Leonis roared even as he felt his soul shrivel, saw the raw pain in the other Great Soul’s eyes, saw the blank confusion and horror.

And with every ounce of his strength he smashed Nezzar square into Scorio’s face.