IGS #4, Chapter 17

Scorio

“What?” Leonis’ shout echoed off the cavern walls. “You’re serious? You’re saying I’ve been hauling rocks like an idiot for nothing?!”

“We told you not to risk it,” said Jova, tone cool. “You’re the one who insisted.”

Leonis ground his teeth together as he inhaled mightily, obviously seeking to rein in his temper.

“Nobody’s pleased with this development,” said Scorio. “Xandera did her best, but the Silverines have been working to cut us off from the start. They’re cunning, obviously. They’re going to starve us of mana, then move in and swamp us.”

“All right,” said Kelona, hugging herself tightly and giving a jerky nod. “So, that’s what’s happening. What do we do?”

Everybody looked to Scorio, even Jova, who raised a dark eyebrow in question.

“I’m going to do some reconnaissance.” Scorio fought to project steadfast surety. “Xandera will open a small gap through which I’ll flow in flame form. I want to see just how bad it’s gotten out there.” When Kelona and Xandera both went to protest at once, he raised his hand, cutting them off. “My Shroud is pretty strong, and I can turn intangible in flame form. My command aura can cause them to fall back, and worst case scenario I’ll just return quicker than I’d hoped. But we need to know how much time we have and how many Silverines have gathered before we can make a plan.”

“Plan,” snorted Leonis. “What plan? We’re trapped underground and surrounded by Silver-ranked fiends. Our only plan is to make a break for it, which will mean a bunch of us dying as you fly away as you always do.”

Scorio inhaled deeply, hands on his hips, and worked his jaw as he stared at the ground. The urge to crush the other man was strong. To punish his stupidity with dominance.

But he had to be better.

“I get that you’re upset,” Scorio said at last. “I’m the leader of this expedition, and we’re in a bad way. I don’t know why you think I’m only out for myself when my actions have only ever spoken otherwise, but I’ll chalk it up to your still not knowing me the way the others do.”

Now Scorio lifted his gaze and met Leonis’ glare square on. “I’m not going to abandon anybody. We’re going to find a way out of this together, no matter what.”

“Sure,” said Leonis. “I guess we’ll just see how that goes.”

“Damn, man.” Nyrix’s tone was soft with disgust. “You’re a complete asshole, you know that?”

“Asshole?” Leonis smiled. “You mean realist. The man said it himself. He’s leading this outfit, and where do we end up only days into this misadventure? In a tomb, surrounded by fiends, and with no hope of getting out of here alive. What kind of leader does that make him?”

Leonis was trying too hard, Scorio realized. The man was searching for words, for attacks, anything he could weaponize. And why? Because he was bitter, and broken, and scared.

And with that realization Scorio’s anger just washed away.

“Look, all we can do is our best. Luckily for us, our best is pretty damn good. Give me time to explore the reality awaiting us outside, and then I’ll come up with a plan. Fair?”

Leonis frowned at him, clearly confused by Scorio’s not lashing out at him. He gave a grudging nod.

“Does it matter what you find out there?” asked Jova. “We know the fiends are purposefully surrounding us. We can simply assume there are thousands of them waiting to burrow in here.”

“Actually, why didn’t they just burrow in already?” asked Kelona. “If there are so many of them?”

“It’s a strategy of theirs, I guess.” Scorio forced his features to relax, to release the tension that had been building up within him. “We’re trapped, so perhaps they’re not in a rush. They know we’re not going anywhere. Better to starve us and then tear us apart easily then pour in here in a column and be destroyed by the hundreds.”

“They’ve taken our measure,” said Jova. “They recognize how dangerous we are.”

Nyrix rubbed his face. “Not dangerous enough.”

“Not yet. But let’s take this one step at a time. Xandera?”

The blazeborn queen had been hanging back, her head bowed, hands linked behind her back. She glanced up at Scorio, nodded, then quickly looked away.

“And one last thing,” said Scorio, voice forceful once more. “We have with us a blazeborn queen. If we must, if we have no choice, she can grow into her full power, and then I’ll truly pity the Silverines out there, because we’re underground, which is Xandera’s domain. If there’s no other hope, I know she can save us all. But.” He waited for her to glance up and meet his eyes again. “But I want to avoid that necessity at all costs if possible. So let’s find out what we’re up against.”

Xandera smiled tentatively, and took Scorio’s hand as they walked toward one of the deeper caves. “Is it selfish of me to want to resist evolving just yet? I can’t help but think it’s selfish. Maybe I should just grow right now and save us the time and danger.”

“It’s not selfish. Your growing up could mean our losing you when you decide to return to the Iron Weald and begin your own hive. Which is fine, if that’s what you decide you want, but I don’t want that decision forced on you.” Scorio smiled down at her. “Maybe I’m the selfish one for wanting to keep your company for as long as possible.”

Xandera’s brows rose in surprise, and then she grinned and skipped along the rest of the way.

They passed into the rear of the cavern where Xandera placed her hands on the back wall. Its surface was slurried from previous openings, and Scorio knew that her tunnel was on the far side, leading up into the original cavern into which they’d fallen.

He Ignited his great, spherical Heart, pulling Silver directly into its furnace with Nox’s technique. His reservoir was already filled to the brim, so he nodded to Xandera, who focused on the wall and willed it to melt.

Rock flowed like honey.

Soon a small gap appeared at chest height, large as Scorio’s palm, and he willed himself to turn into his flame form. Power erupted from within his soul as his flesh became living fire, and with a greater dive he poured forth, flooding through the gap to pass slowly into the tunnel beyond.

All was inferno, his body hazy and lost amidst curlicues of black flame. Silverine Instinctuals were packed into the tunnel, drawn perhaps by the heat or activity, and through them he flew, immolating them from within as he surged up and up and then burst out into the great cavern.

It seethed with fiends.

The first kind of Silverine with their wizened purple arms and tentacled rear halves had been joined by dozens of other kinds. All were some combination of carapace and virulent hues, some as large as horses, others as small as hounds, and while here and there lumbered a juggernaut easily as big as a house.

The walls rippled with movement. The air sang with their horrific music. New strands of pale, patterned rock had been spun across the vast heights of the cavern, and across these ran more fiends.

High, high above, Scorio saw that the huge hole through which they’d fallen was almost completely patched up.

As he emerged from the tunnel, the great cathedral space erupted into frenetic activity and the power of the Silverine song redoubled.

There were hundreds of fiends. Hundreds upon hundreds, with intimations of many more thronging the tunnels and cave mouths that festooned the walls.

Dismay arose within Scorio’s breast, but was then replaced by grim resolve. He swooped through the endless ranks, causing carapaces to cinder and muscular flesh to boil, then, intent on testing the limits of his own power, inhaled his own flame form deep into his chest, and landed, scaled and humanoid, in the midst of the Silverines.

Even as they rose up around him like a wave intent on washing him away, Scorio summoned his huge Shroud, and then waited.

It appeared all around him, the complete protection of a Pyre Lord, but thick and massive beyond any he had ever seen. Two years of endless practice in the Crucible had turned his mastery of the Shroud into an artform, and now it gleamed all around him with the faintest gold.

“Come on,” Scorio croaked, chest filled to bursting with flame. “Come at me.”

The Instinctuals shrieked and fell upon him.

But his Shroud held. It flared brightly as countless claws raked its curved surface, and the Instinctuals continued mounting over each other till Scorio was completely submerged. Fiends all around and above, a dome of alien flesh and tentacles and lust for his flesh.

Still holding the flames deep in his chest, Scorio leaned forward, and began to move.

Each step dislodged scores of fiends, caused them to fall back before him. For a moment he wondered if he could simply escort his friends out, one by one, but the effort to keep walking was only growing as more and more of them scrambled atop each other.

It felt like wading through ever thickening mud.

Sweat prickled his brow as his thighs began to burn, and with his jaw clenched he worked his way forward, shoving bodily through the massed fiends with his Shroud.

But no.

He’d not be able to reach the surface in this manner.

His Shroud, powerful as it might be, was about to collapse under the concentrated attacks of dozens of fiends.

FLEE, commanded Scorio, pouring his fury and desire to protect his friends into the command.

The aura hit the Instinctuals like a whip, and they fell back in dismay, the load on his Shroud lightening. But they didn’t turn tail and run. Instead they wavered, irresolute, tentacles thrashing and reaching for him even as they continued to scream their headache-inducing song.

Scorio hurled himself aloft as he released his Shroud. The Instinctuals collapsed inwards around him, a few reaching for his scaled form as he speared up into the cavern, and then he spun and unleashed his flame.

Blue fury bled out into the air, a stream of liquid flame that played out over the closest fiends and blackened their flesh before unfurling into a great black nexus of fire. This he dragged all the way around him, torching rank upon rank of Instinctuals that sought to close with him regardless of the danger.

On and on he exhaled, and the front ranks blackened and died.

But they were tough. What they lacked in lethal attacks they more than made up for with resilience. He torched some fifty, maybe more, but of those massed fiends he only slaughtered the closest ten. The rest, wounded and maddened by his fire, only redoubled their efforts to close.

Flapping his wings, Scorio fought for height, but there was no safety in the air. Instinctuals hurled themselves off the spans overhead to fall upon him, tentacles reaching and snagging his limbs, his wings.

Scorio spun, shook them off, raked his burning claws through their flesh, but their attacks were palpable and fierce. Were it not for his Gold-tempered body and massively armored form, he’d already have been lacerated to pieces.

Damn it.

He reverted to his flame form, and the three Silverines that clung to him fell away. Swooped around through the air, but there was no point in continuing this assault. Where was the tunnel back to his friends?

For a horrifying second Scorio couldn’t find it. Everywhere he looked he saw fiends clamoring for his flesh, reaching for him, their song making it so that he couldn’t think, he couldn’t focus on any one spot.

SILENCE! He roared, and for a moment, a blessed few seconds, the din lessened, allowing his thoughts to coalesce, and—there.

He dove, filtering through fiends, to plunge into the tunnel. Down, down, the flame form reaching its limit, his need to inhale growing by the second, till he reached the dead-end with its small gap and forced himself to flow through it.

The process felt like it took forever, his form congealing through the small space till at last he formed on the far side.

Mercifully someone had thought to clear the cavern, so he was able to inhale his flames and fill his chest once more before turning to place his lips close to the gap and exhale blue fire back out into the tunnel.

Fiends screamed and died.

Finally, flames spent, Scorio backed away from the hole, inhaling in deep, powerful gusts, and then turned to quit the cave.

“And?” Jova stood, arms crossed, hip cocked out, gaze stern. “How bad is it?”

The others were clustered around her. Universal concern. Scorio considered, licked his lower lip, the image of the hordes of Instinctuals playing across his mind’s eye.

“Not bad,” he lied. A steadying breath. “Not good, though, either.” His thoughts were swirling, swirling, even as he considered what to say next. “We’re going to need to fight our way out, but it’s doable. Not as we currently stand, but if we have a few breakthroughs, we’ll have a good chance.”

“A few breakthroughs,” said Kelona. “You mean my reaching Dread Blaze?”

Scorio nodded. “I was able to drive them back with my Shroud alone, but that’s because it’s all encompassing. We’re going to need you and Leonis to manifest bigger Shrouds that you can keep up for longer. A tortoise shell. Shrouds all around, Xandera in the center unleashing lava wherever the pressure is greatest.”

“How do we reach the ceiling?” asked Nyrix. “You and Jova are the only ones that can fly?”

Right, right. Scorio scrambled to answer, nodding even as he fought to find an answer so as to continue projecting calm confidence. “Simple.”

The others looked at him expectantly.

“Jova will fly ahead and clear areas for Nyrix to fire his bow and open Portals. We’ll work out way up, step by step, till we reach the top. The fiends have reconstructed many of those bridges that cross the cavern. Nyrix, your job will be to find a route that leads up. You open a Portal, Jova moved to clear the area, everyone goes through, I fly up to rejoin you.”

Reluctant nods.

“Leonis, you’ll use your ring of Nezzards to empower us. There are too many fiends to waste time weakening them. Jova, you and I will use our auras to drive the fiends back. Kelona, your golden form and leaping ability will give you the flexibility to keep up even if Nyrix can only take Leonis and Xandera with him. But the key to survival will lie in our Shrouds. There are too many fiends for us to drive them all back. We’re going to need to extract ourselves quickly and efficiently. Worst case scenario, I enter my dragon form and draw their attention while you all fight your way free. Then, when you’re out, I’ll hit flame form and fly out after you.”

Again with the nods. Dubious side glances.

Scorio nodded, affirming the validity of his own plan even as he conceived it. “Xandera, you’re going to keep watch on the Silverine activity. Warn us when they’re starting to burrow in. Until then, we’ll use the Silver mana to work on our Shrouds and focus on getting as many of you as possible to the next rank.”

Skepticism.

“It’s doable.” He met each person’s gaze in turn. “With guidance, willpower, and absolute focus, you can do this. Leonis, Kelona, we’re going to get your to Dread Blaze. Nyrix, Jova, if either of you can reach Pyre Lord it’ll be a hell’s given boon. Xandera, you’ll have to evaluate on the spot as we make our exit whether you need to evolve or not.”

More nods.

“So.” Scorio exhaled. “We have no time left to waste. We’re dispensing with physical training in favor for mana manipulation and conceptual focus. Nyrix, Jova, you’re going to teach the rest of us how to manifest the Dread Blaze mana control technique in the mornings. After lunch, I’ll take time with either Nyrix or Jova to help coach you into reaching Pyre Lord, while the rest of you practice your Shrouds. We don’t have much time, but we do have Silver mana. Your task will be to keep them up for as long as possible while they’re assaulted. Clear?”

Leonis shook his head wearily. “To think I wasted ten days hauling rocks.”

“What’s done is done.” Scorio clapped his hands. “We begin now with the Dread Blaze technique. Xandera, you’re on guard duty. I’d ask if you’re ready, but we’ve no choice in the matter.” He again raked the small group with his gaze, feeding his stare with all the confidence and desire to see his friends survive this ordeal. “You are ready. We’re going to make this work. You’re going to train till you can barely think, and then we’re going to train some more. And when the Silverines finally make their push to consume us?” He forced a ragged grin. “They’re going to realize they’ve bitten off far, far more than they could ever hope to chew.”

*

Leonis, Kelona, and Scorio knelt on the hard stone, hands on their thighs, as Jova sat on a raised rock before them. Her gaze was stern, her manner forbidding, and Scorio could only reflect on how intimidated he’d have been as a Char if she’d been his meditation instructor back at the Academy.

“Ascending to Dread Blaze is a true trial for Great Souls, because it goes against our inherent nature.” She’d lectured them several times already this past week, but each time sought a new approach, a new way to present these inherent truths so that they’d finally unlock a deeper understanding. “Our kind is fueled by ambition, and goaded on by success. We do not do well with frustration. Our instinct is to overwhelm any problem with intensity and power. But making Dread Blaze requires patience and finesse.”

Scorio exhaled and sought to dissipate his already mounting impatience. It was reflexive, his old enemy, and one he’d thought he’d sidestepped back at the Fury Spires when he’d learned to utilize the Delightful Marinating Technique in Dread Blaze’s stead.

“Those who make Dread Blaze do so by mastering their instinct to surge ahead.” Jova’s tone was implacable. “You must reduce your Ignition to its lowest ebb, and then raise it to an inferno. Then reduce it once more. Not like a drunken fool staggering from one side of a whale ship’s deck to the other as it tilts back and forth, but purposefully, calmly, and with full control.”

Scorio closed his eyes and focused on his reservoir. It was grown vast by his spherical Heart, its depth a dark mystery as he’d mostly ignored it ever since mastering the Marinating Technique. What need did he have for feeding his Ignition from his reservoir when he could simply pull mana directly into the flames from the air around him?

“Control. Focus. Deliberation.” Jova annunciated each word with precision. “You must leash your mana expenditure and learn only to burn as much as you strictly desire. There are times when you must pour everything you have into a technique. Then there are times you must ration your mana with exacting care. Ignite your Hearts, and slowly, as slowly as you can, reduce your burn till you are barely aflame.”

Scorio exhaled and settled into the exercise. His reflex was to reach for the Silver around them, but he ignored the tempting shortcut and focused instead on drawing enough mana from his Heart to Ignite.

Simple.

His Heart leaped into silvered flames, and power coursed through him. Invigorating, delightful, electrifying. By his side he sensed Kelona and Leonis do the same, each Ignition a soft concussive burst against his awareness.

“You are greatly aided by practicing with Silver,” said Jova. “Lean into the mana’s malleable and refined quality. In the Academy, or the Rascor Plains, we must work with Iron or Copper. The first is durable but stubborn, the second slippery and unreliable. Both make this exercise more challenging, which is a benefit: those who rise to Dread Blaze while working with Iron and Copper greatly refine their technique. But Silver will obey you, making your task far, far easier. Use that noble responsiveness to your advantage.”

Scorio lowered his chin and began to throttle the flow of Silver from his reservoir into his Heart. Jova was right. Back in the Iron Weald, under Druanna’s tutelage, reducing his mana flow felt like working with honey; he’d slacken the pace, only to be surprised at how quickly it ebbed, then increase the flow, growing frustrated at how slowly it mounted, till suddenly a great wash would swamp his Heart and cause him to gutter.

But here, now?

Silver was a delight to work with. Responsive, tranquil, and fluid, it obeyed his commands with docile ease. Tapering the amount that flowed into his Ignited Heart was intuitive, he drew down the amount, reducing it by slow degrees, and watched as the flames that coruscated around his Heart grew smaller in turn, their flickering leaps diminishing, diminishing, until only a faint corona of silver light surrounded it.

It was challenging work, even with Silver; at its lowest ebb, it felt like clasping a greased thread between two fingers and trying to control how swiftly it played out. The slightest increase in pressure would cause it to stop all together, the slightest laxity would cause it to strengthen.

Scorio lost track of time. Silver mana flowed in a slender stream into his Heart, fluctuating minutely as he wearied and redoubled his efforts. His Heart remained Ignited but so lightly it seemed barely awake; a sliver of constant power flowed into his being.

Beside him, first Kelona than Leonis guttered, no doubt having exhausted their meager reservoirs. But Scorio remained focused, his own still feeling engorged.

All reality revolved around that thread of Silver, a lunar mirror to Bastion’s sunwire, stretching out of the depths of his reservoir into the furnace of his Heart.

By the ten hells it was so much better to work with Silver than Iron!

“Now, with great care, amplify the stream to its greatest potential,” said Jova softly. “But with control. Utmost control. Slowly, gradually, allow your Heart to burn brighter.”

Leonis cursed softly under his breath.

From Kelona there came only the sound of terse breathing.

Scorio realized he’d been holding his breath, and forced himself to exhale gently. Then, as an experiment, he timed the increase of his mana to his next inhale. By slowing his breath, he found it easier to slow the increase in his rate; each time he exhaled, he paused, then once more resumed.

“Good,” said Nyrix from behind them, voice quiet. “Very good, all of you.”

Scorio’s Heart blazed brighter and brighter. Still his reservoir felt practically undiminished. He felt Kelona and Leonis gutter several times as he raised the burn of his Heart to its utmost, so at the very, very last it was roaring, incandescent, the sphere itself lost within the blazing brightness.

Power. Raw power filled him, made his muscles swell, his thoughts light, his body febrile.

“Damn,” said Jova quietly. “That’s… damn.”

“Now taper,” said Nyrix, who’d crouched just behind him. “Can you draw it down slowly?”

Silver mana was pouring into his Heart at a fearsome rate. Scorio exhaled and used his breath to diminish the flow. But it felt like trying to diminish a stream by just sticking your hand in its current. He frowned, exerted himself, and the great flood of mana abruptly slackened at too rapid a pace.

“Easy,” said Nyrix. “Back off and try again.”

“How hasn’t he guttered yet?” demanded Kelona.

“Focus on your own work,” replied Jova.

Scorio allowed his Ignition to resume its full fiery burn, then again exhaled and sought to taper it carefully.

Again and again he labored, achieving some improvement, though the process was finicky and frustrating and made him feel like a fool.

Finally his reservoir emptied just as he reduced his burn to a thread. With a gasp, Scorio opened his eyes, his Heart going dark. His brow was beaded with sweat, his robe clinging to his back.

“Damn, Scorio.” Nyrix had moved to stand beside Jova. “That Heart of yours is something.”

Jova was studying him, gaze dark, expression neutral.

“I’m making progress,” said Scorio, the thought lifting his spirits. “It’s the Silver.”

“And your own experience.” Jova sounded dissatisfied for some reason. “You’ve been burning and fighting for years now. Even without having mastered the technique, you’ve been leaning on an approximation. It should come quickly if you apply yourself.”

“Right.” Scorio began sweeping the precious Silver that swirled around them into his reservoir. “Well, that’s what I intend to do.” He glanced at his two companions. “How’d you both fare?”

Kelona blew out her cheeks. “I mean, it’s frustrating. But working with Silver…” She grinned. “I could get used to it.”

“Fine.” Leonis’ tone was stony. “I think I’ll do better training alone. If you’ll excuse me.” He rose smoothly to his feet and strode away.

“Whatever works,” said Nyrix to the man’s broad back. “Just don’t fall behind.”

Leonis slowed, began to turn back, but then simply shook his head and resumed striding away.

“Sorry,” muttered Nyrix, glancing at the others. “That guy just gets under my skin.”

“You’re a Dread Blaze,” snapped Jova. “Try acting like one.”

Nyrix had sufficient grace to nod guiltily.

“Can I ask something?” Kelona curled a lock of golden hair behind one ear. “Once I’ve got a good sense of control, I just speed up the rate, right? From nothing to full burn back to nothing? At what point does something happen? How do I know I’m getting close?”

Scorio thought to his own experience, how he’d sparred against Naomi in the darkness of the blazeborn caldera, his body burning bright as he’d pushed against his limits. “You build speed. But more, it stops feeling like a conscious exercise, and becomes… intuitive?” He glanced to Jova, who nodded. “You find that you can swing back and forth faster and faster, and at some point it’s enough, and you enter your next Trial.”

Kelona nodded. “So control, then speed, till it becomes reflexive.”

“Correct,” said Jova. “Once you internalize the method, you ascend.”

“Right.” Kelona rose to her feet with a grim smile. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get some food and then continue practicing.”

“You two want to eat?” asked Scorio.

“No,” said Jova. “I don’t want to eat. I want to make Pyre Lord. You’re going to help me.”

It was the first time she’d openly requested his assistance. Before she’d always indirectly admitted his experience would be of value, but never has she come right out and demanded his aid. Or commanded it, more accurately. Over the past ten days she’d simply retreated into privacy so as to consider her advancement.

Scorio felt a flutter of excitement. “Sure. I can help.”

“I’ll listen in,” said Nyrix. “Maybe hearing your explanation again will cause some fresh understanding.”

“No,” said Jova. “I want to discuss this in private with Scorio. You can speak with him later.”

Nyrix sucked on his teeth as he stared at Jova, who ignored him completely. For a moment Scorio thought the other Dread Blaze would challenge her, but then he shrugged and walked away.

“All right,” said Jova. She squared her shoulders, raised her chin, and glared at him. “Tell me what I must do.”