Nova, little more than an aged husk, raised her white scepter in a shaking hand. Radiant white light flowed over her body, and she immediately floated up, restored as before. A second later, both Lady Maeve and Grunsch also rose, the White Queen’s light suffusing their forms.
“Was that… did we…?” asked Lady Maeve.
“No,” said Grunsch, brushing dust off his pectoral muscles as broad and thick as paving stones. “But it was a good shot.”
More Great Souls filtered into the room through the ruined doors. One of them, Helminth, saw the ruin at the far end of the basilica and ran forward, dropping her sinuous whip which disappeared mid-air, to leap atop a bier and extend both her hands toward the cave-in. “Get Feng in here!” she cried.
Scorio couldn’t tell what she did, but the rocks at the far end of the basilica that had buried Imogen suddenly crunched down, compacting as if under a huge weight.
“Jarex,” said Nova, voice composed. “Fetch Feng.”
The wild-haired and saturnine Dread Blaze nodded wearily, drank from a vial, closed his eyes, and disappeared. A second later he appeared once more, Feng holding onto his shoulder, his shock of black hair pale with dust, blood smeared across his cheek from a ragged cut.
Nova swooped forward, massive golden wings appearing in a flash, and swept Feng up to bear him through the air and set him close to the fallen rocks.
Feng lowered into a combat crouch, closed his eyes as he slipped a pill into his mouth, and pressed a palm forward. A moment later, a cone of dust filtered forth from his hand to wash over the pile of huge stones, seeming to pour through them as if the rocks were insubstantial.
Helminth was still straining, hands outstretched, chin lowered as she wrestled with some invisible force. “I’m running out of reserves. Where’s Hera? Get her set up!”
The striking woman, with skin the color of Coal mana and long hair woven into finger-thick braids, nodded jerkily and ran forward. She downed a small vial of burning golden liquid, and then a dozen rays of purple light extended from her chest to spear across the basilica; wherever they terminated a tower formed, each as tall as herself and topped with a purple gem.
The missing Blood Baron, Havarn, stepped through the doorway, his robes torn but appearing unhurt. He quickly ran his fingers through his beard and then inhaled mightily. Huge chunks of green rock lifted off the ground, each limned in green flame, and they flew together to form a crude golem some twenty feet tall. Ponderous and massive, it waded through the biers like a grown man through sandcastles, to reach the cave-in then fall bodily upon it, adding its burning bulk to the existing mound.
Scorio looked to where Lianshi crouched by his side. “You think they can imprison her?”
Lianshi was pale, blinking rapidly. All she could do was shake her head.
“Ready Maeve?” asked Grunsch, punching a fist into the other palm. Scorio thought he sounded strangely cheerful, then the Blood Baron swelled up to his massive form, veins bulging over his musculature, his translucent tower shield manifesting before him as he began to make his way toward the rocks.
Lady Maeve gathered her mane of dark crimson hair into a tail and swept it over one shoulder, then leaped atop a bier. She raised her red scepter and aimed it at the rocks. “Ready.”
Other Great Souls rushed to their positions, some closer, others standing afar, everyone drinking elixirs or swallowing pills as they focused on the huge pile of broken stone.
The tension grew so thick that Scorio could barely breathe. Sweat prickled paths down his face, and he forced himself to dry swallow as he watched the far side of the room with everyone else.
Watched the burning green rocks into which Feng continued to pour his cone of white dust. Watched as Nova rose above it, golden wings spread, white scepter held at the ready, looking grave and resigned, determined and utterly focused.
And despite himself, Scorio felt his heart thrill. To be surrounded by such power, to see so many Great Souls demonstrate what their kind could do. It dwarfed his aspirations, recast his ambitions.
If he survived this, he vowed, he would work tirelessly to improve himself. Would strain every fiber of his being to one day be able to stand amongst such great company and be considered their equal.
If only he could do something now. If only he could help in some tangible way.
Instead, he could only crouch there with his friends as Raugr moved to the forefront to stand beside Grunsch, his fists glowing with electric energy. As Valdun flew into the air with his pegasi, a great harpoon in one hand. As others drew closer, each and every one of them looked tense, if not outright terrified.
“Look up,” whispered the Nightmare Lady from behind him.
Scorio frowned, glanced at the ceiling, and saw that the black fog was quickly descending along the inside of the walls.
Within moments, others cried out in alarm. The fog dropped swiftly, so that the great basilica became an inverted black bowl before anyone could react.
“Jarex!” cried out Nova. “Get people out!”
The Great Soul with the golden chains roped around his neck backed away a few steps, then imploded, disappearing and unleashing a vortex of air that staggered others in his vicinity.
Halos of burning light appeared behind the head of every Great Soul that was Pyre Lord or higher; Nova summoned her white pearlescent sphere about herself.
But the black smoke kept coming, pouring down to ground level, then flooding across the floor.
“What is that? What do we do?” hissed Leonis.
“We’re done for,” said the Nightmare Lady, voice cracked with despair. “Remember what they said about her fog?”
It flowed over the first of the Great Souls, who thrashed at it, crossed their arms before their faces, and then froze. A moment later each one relaxed, lowering their arms to their sides, to turn and stare toward the massive mound of stone.
Valdun swept down so that others could mount his pegasi, and then together they flew toward the ceiling, clearly trying to burst free and into the sky beyond. But a column of darkness descended to intercept them, and upon being engulfed they ceased their attempt to escape and instead began to fly unhurriedly toward the floor.
Scorio rose to his feet, looked about in panic. He saw Raugr and Grunsch succumb, followed a moment later by Helminth who screamed in rage and swung her writhing whip at the fog before going still.
They had seconds before the fog washed over them.
They had to get out. For a moment Scorio just stood there, watching as Nova retreated from grasping fingers of darkness, and then it came to him.
“Hurry!” He darted to the base of the bier and slammed his hand over the crystal. “Into the Gauntlet!”
The Nightmare Lady nodded, vaulting over the bier to the next one over, but darkness washed over her before she could reach its base. Lianshi and Leonis darted away from him as well.
Scorio pulsed mana into the crystal as he’d done almost a dozen times before and hurled himself atop the jeweled top.
The last thing he saw as he lay down, black fog washing over him, was the White Queen, crying out in defiance as she hurled blast after blast of white fire from her scepter, the black fog closing around her sphere. Then all fell away into blackness.
Chapter 41
Scorio awoke in a tomb of hammered copper and immediately sat up, gasping for air. He clutched at his chest, dug fingers into the muscle over his heart, and just sat there, staring at the wall before him.
“I did it,” he whispered, relaxing his hand as the panic ebbed. He glanced about the tomb, sharpened his darkvision, and ignited his Heart, then leaped out into the endless chamber before the ancient Gauntlet entrance. Landing in a crouch, he stared around the plain of tombs.
No movement.
The distant beam of pale light soared as ever before, but for once Scorio ignored it. “Leonis? Lianshi?”
No response. He took a few steps and swept his darkvision over the tomb entrances, trying to sense any movement. Anything at all.