Off-balance, she retreated, regained her balance, renewed her assault. But he was in the fight now, fully present, and once more he began parrying her every blow. Jabs were slapped away, elbows were blocked, crosses swayed away from.
The rushing roar was still a crescendo in his ears, but now he realized he was laughing, his arms alive, the insubstantial flames that had burned down their length having faded away, pulled, he felt, into his very blood.
Naomi laughed as well, her eyes flashing, and came at him even faster; they were blurring through the sequence now, arms contacting so rapidly the sound was a blurred staccato. Filled with delight, wanting to roar his victory, Scorio seized the perfect opportunity to move from defense to offense, and initiated the sequence against her.
She danced with him, accepting the reversal of roles, blocking and parrying his attacks perfectly. He moved faster, put more force into the blows, faster still; she kept pace, but the roaring in his ears made him feel invincible, unstoppable, and he punched harder, came in more aggressively, till the smile slipped from her lips and became a frown of fierce concentration.
He was driving her back, flowing seamlessly through the sequence, jabs to crosses, elbows to uppercuts, swaying and dipping and rising. She gave more ground, until suddenly she exploded in size before him, reared up high to loom, gaunt and horrific, and caught his next cross in the flat of her black palm, stopping him cold.
“That’s good,” she hissed, leaning her distended, horned head down toward him, lips peeling back from her fangs into an approximation of a smile. “But that’s enough.”
Scorio pulled his fist free, stepped away, realized he was panting for breath. For a moment he only stared at her in alarm, but then she slid back down into her human form, and the momentary pang of fear ebbed away.
“You did it.” She shook out her hand, wincing. “You mad fool. You actually did it.”
The rushing, roaring sound was fading away now, but his Heart still burned, still spewed forth black fire in an endless torrent. He could bring it into view at will now, flicker it in and out of sight with but a thought; he did so a few times, then allowed it to fade away altogether; still he could sense it burning, invisibly, within his core.
“I did.” He rubbed his hand over his stomach, marveled at how the pain had completely disappeared. “You didn’t tell me I’d feel so good right after.”
She smirked. “You didn’t need the encouragement. Everyone heals when they reach a new level. Why do you think I was willing to go through with this? Now. How does it feel?”
Scorio stared at his palms. “It feels… amazing. Like I can do anything.”
“Well, you can’t, so don’t try. But focus on the shadows now. Tell me what happens.”
He frowned, looked past the radius of her lantern, and stared hard at the darkness that obscured the far side of the pit. As if wilting under his glare, the darkness faded away, revealing gray outlines of the rock, ledges, cracks, and pitted holes.
“I… that’s darkvision?”
“It is indeed. Takes focus, and you’ll get better at it with time.”
“No color, though.” He swung it slowly across the pit’s curving wall. “And it’s more like a beam than anything else. I thought I’d just be able to see through all darkness.”
“When you rank up, you will. But as a Cinder? Take what you can get.”
Scorio grinned. “That I will. What else? I’m more resistant to the Curse now?”
“You sure are, though you won’t feel much of a difference here in Bastion.”
“Which means my plan to train on the Rascor Plains is now a possibility?”
“A possibility,” allowed Naomi, picking up her lantern. “If we can get past security.”
Scorio clenched his hands into fists and felt newfound strength flood his arms. “And my body. I feel… just more, in every way.”
“You can take more punishment. Move faster. Hit harder…” Naomi paused. “…than a Char. But you’re still just a Cinder, even if you feel like a Pyre Lord. So don’t get carried away.”
Scorio grinned at her. “You know, that sounds like good advice? But right now I’m going to just enjoy this feeling.”
She grinned right back. “Can’t begrudge you that. But let’s put it in context. See if you can keep up with me, Cinder.”
And with that, she swept up her lantern, blew it out, and fastened it to her belt.
Immediately Scorio focused on her, so that her form grew clear amidst the greater darkness, a contoured mass of gray, leaden hues. He saw her curl her thick locks behind one ear, smile at him, then crouch and leap, soaring up a couple of yards to latch onto the rock wall and begin to climb.
“Challenge accepted,” he whispered, and leaped after her, eschewing the use of his treasures for the sheer exuberance of his own burning Heart. Up he leaped, latching onto the wall a few feet below where she’d landed, and then climbed right after, scouring the rocky surface with his darkvision as he went, finding handholds split seconds before he needed them. Momentum kept him going more than anything, his fingers tireless as he dug them into cracks, the toes of his worn sandals pressing against the slightest bumps.
But even so, Naomi was faster.
She gained the lip of the pit a good eight yards ahead of him, and it was her laughter that drew him on, up and over the top into the street, to stand in the darkness of a night cycle, the sun-wire a blood-limned filament in the sky overhead.
Naomi was dancing backward, arms outstretched as she floated over broken blocks and deep riven cracks, her feet seeming to know where to land with each step. “Thought you weren’t going to come.”
“You thought wrong,” growled Scorio, and drank deep of his burning Heart, felt the black flames roar forth from the obsidian facets, filling his core with power. He burst into a spring, racing toward her, and blasted right by, down the center of the street, running so fast he thought he could leap and soar right over the buildings.
But a few moments later he sensed movement by his side, saw her pass him, her shorter legs blurring, her hair streaming behind her.
They reached a great landslide that had flowed across the street when a building had collapsed who knew how many centuries ago, and Scorio grunted as he raced up the fallen scree of blocks.
Naomi, however, hurled herself into a leap, changing into her nightmare form mid-air and clearing a dozen yards, landing far above and ahead of him, only to take off again and clear the summit.
Scorio drew even more from his burning Heart, the flames raging now, pouring strength and endless stamina into him. He felt unbeatable, untamable, a force of nature. Powered up the slope and leaped right off the apex into the air, arms cartwheeling as he began to fall to the far side of the street, the Nightmare Lady already far ahead, her laughter trailing behind.
He landed smoothly, stumbled just a little, began to pick up the speed—and then his Heart guttered and died.
The strength flowed right out of him, his legs grew jellied, and he stumbled and crashed down to his knees, heaving for breath, black spots dancing before his eyes.
“There we go,” said the Nightmare Lady, walking back toward him. “Though I have to say, you lasted longer than I expected.”
“Wait… what happened?” Scorio reared up onto his knees, summoned his Igneous Heart, and gaped at its smoking surface. It was dead once more but looked superheated, the edges dulling away from cherry-red to orange.
“You burned through your reserves,” she said, stopping before him and resuming her human form, hands on her hips. “Which, as a Cinder, you have precious little of. Though your Heart is as deep as I’d guessed—perhaps deeper. You should be proud. I thought you’d gutter out before you got out of the pit.”