“Sleep’s been hard to come by. And I wager I’m about to feel a whole lot worse. Toss it over.”
“Toss it over.” Her lips quirked into a smile. “You think you’re going to drink it here?”
“Where else?”
“Follow me.” And with that, she pivoted on the ball of her foot and dropped back out of view.
Scorio grabbed his treasures, took a hasty gulp from his water pail, then scrambled after. She had this incredible ability to drop a dozen yards without looking any the worse for the impact, while he still had to work his way down, leaping from exposed block to block, till at last, he landed beside her.
“Keep up,” she said, tone business-like, and took off, running lightly down the street.
Scorio did his best, but despite almost a month of constant running he was hard-pressed; she drifted forward effortlessly, her feet barely raising puffs of dust as she ran silently ever on. Moving with assurance, taking corners as if she’d done so a hundred times, going ever deeper into the ruins.
Scorio was starting to run out of breath and develop a stitch when she finally slowed and strode up to the mouth of a great hole in the center of the street.
“Down there,” she said, hands on her hips as she considered the fiery depths. “Use your treasures if you have to.”
And before he could ask anything, she stepped out into the void and fell into the dark.
Scorio bit back a curse and peered down after her. She’d fallen some twenty yards to land on a smooth expanse of stone that jutted out over the burning depths.
He considered, then drew out the steel rod. Taking a deep breath, he summoned his Igneous Heart before him and leaped down after her.
Almost immediately he activated the treasure, swirling the dense, cloying Coal mana into the rod so that it jerked and locked in place.
He was ready, clutching at it with both hands, and swung beneath it, already some four or so yards down. Released the mana, dropped again, activated it once more almost immediately.
Four times he did this, four times he plunged and was viciously arrested, until at last, he fell into a crouch beside Naomi, who’d watched his controlled fall with bemusement.
“Nice,” was her only comment, and then she pointed at a flat rock. “Sit there.”
He did as he was bid. Glanced around. “What is this place?”
“Where you’re going to ignite your Heart.”
The words caused a shiver of excitement to pass through him. “Here?”
“Reach out for the mana. Check the density.”
He did as he was bid, summoning his Heart and then extending his senses to the sooty clouds—only to realize they were ferociously dense, almost impenetrable.
Naomi crouched before him, flask held loosely between her knees. “I did some calculations. Fifty plants’ worth of unfiltered tincture will dump more raw Coal into your Heart than you’ll be able to handle. It’ll be like taking forty Black Star pills all at once. Since you’re insisting on poisoning yourself, we might as well derive as much benefit from this as we can and saturate you completely. Now, when I say raw, it’s because the normal process of drawing Coal directly into your Heart prevents it from harming your body. This tincture will instead pass through your body first, hence the way it’s going to make you wish you were dead. But it will also pour more mana into your Heart than you’d be able to get anywhere else.”
“All right.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his knees. “So why are we here?”
“Because first, you’re going to pull as much of this ambient Coal mana into your Heart. Only once you’re at your brim will you drink this poison.”
“Oh. Oh!” Then he frowned. “Wait.”
“No, it’s not a good idea.” Her smile was predatory once more. “But I’m curious as to just how deep your Heart is. How much it can hold. I’ve a hunch you’ll be fine. But as they say, if you’re going to get whipped, might as well ask for a flaying.”
“That’s… not the most comforting expression I’ve ever heard.”
“Luckily for you, I’m not here to comfort you. Now. Draw in that Coal mana. I’m going to be watching. We’re not going to stop till I’m satisfied.”
“Very well.” He sat up straighter, rested his hands on his knees, and inhaled powerfully. Held his breath, then slowly exhaled and summoned his Igneous Heart.
“This is it, Scorio.” Her voice had grown soft, and he sensed her settling down before him. “This is your chance to catch up with all those pampered Great Souls in the Academy. You’ve gone without help, without treasures, without coaching or access to Iron mana. This is your chance to close that gap. Think on nothing else but this: how much Coal you draw in now will determine the tenor of your future for a good long while. So draw in that Coal like your life depends on it, because on the most literal level, it does.”
Scorio felt his resolve harden. Gave himself a moment to gaze upon his Igneous Heart, and for the first time, he connected with it first, reached out to that great hunk of vitreous stone, and bonded with it, allowed it to become part of his sense of self. And then, intuitively, driven by need, by bleak desire, he gazed at the mana through its lens, felt the Coal as it encircled his Heart.
And felt something new: a sense of wrongness, that the mana shouldn’t be hanging about his Heart, but should rather be within it, belonged within it, and that it was his duty to rectify that mistake.
Maintaining his viewpoint from within the Heart, he forged his will into a slender paddle, an instrument he could wield with deft purpose. And as he began to roil the massively heavy clouds, he began to draw upon it through his Heart; not a direct pull, the act of inhaling, but a gravitational tease that helped the Coal begin to move, to fall around the Heart but never quite toward it.
He took his time. He’d learned that exerting himself too hard right away led to frustration and unnecessary expenditure of his will; it was better to soften the clouds, to move through them slowly, get them going, and as they picked up speed to move harder himself.
Pulling and pushing, he worked the Coal. But it was tougher than anything he’d ever done before; this wasn’t like honey, but rather congealed mud. Sweat prickled his brow and he had to focus fiercely to keep his breath steady.
Round and round, pulling and pushing, he worked the clouds, and slowly, so painfully slowly, they began to respond. The heavy sooty night responded at last to the constant application of his will, moving turgidly then slowly then smoothly.
“Good,” said Naomi softly. “Keep at it. You’re doing well.”
The words goaded him on, renewed his determination, and he inhaled deeply as he moved his paddle faster, pulling around and around the Heart, drawing the Coal ever closer.
Faster and faster. He’d stopped breathing, his entire trunk locked up, his fingers digging into his knees, his chin lowered, sweat pouring off his face.
“Now,” whispered Naomi. “Now, Scorio. Pull it in!”
The effort tore a bestial grunt from his chest, but with all his might he directed the whole mass of the Coal to swirl into his Heart, opening it completely to the nightmare mana, pulling it with everything he had—and it poured in. Like a great ebon cascade, it flooded through the facets, deep into its heart, into himself, and he felt as if he were drowning, held underwater, the sheer mass and pressure of it making him want to burst.
“More!” Naomi was right there before him, her voice urgent, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. “A little more—keep pulling!”
Clenching his jaw, Scorio pulled as much of the remaining Coal mana into his Heart, scraping and clawing at it, abandoning all pretense of a paddle and just grasping with claws, scrabbling and yanking, a final, frenzied inhalation.
His mind was stretched to the limit, his thoughts scattered, his body a thin skein of flesh stretched tight over his bloated Heart.
And just when he thought he could draw in no more, he felt Naomi press the flask to his lips.