“Agreed. The fiend?”
“Dead.”
“Of course.” She curled her lip at him in mock-derision, and the sight heartened Scorio. “Show off.”
Scorio ignited, grew into his scaled form, and dropped to one knee so that she could feel her way around the ledge to stand behind him. Only then did he extrude his wings, though he kept them furled on either side of her. “Ready?”
“I’m blind, not a child.” She gripped him firmly. “You don’t have to treat me as if I’m made of glass.”
“Oh, well in that case -”
And without further warning, he simply stepped over the edge and dropped into the darkness.
They plummeted, and he kept his wings furled as she yelped and held on hard enough to choke him. They dropped once more into the huge tunnel, and only then did he snap out his wings so that they shot forward into a rapid glide.
“Bastard,” she hissed, but then laughed and relaxed her grip.
Scorio found himself grinning as they flew. He couldn’t make out the tunnel floor from this high up, and thought of descending enough to confirm his kill, but then changed his mind. Instead, he set to flying forth, beating his wings with muscular energy, driving them both deeper into the never-ending night.
His reservoir was full, and his purpose resolute, so he pushed himself to make good time. Upon leaving the mana-rich caverns the World Worm had resumed its gradual ascent. As he flew, Scorio checked in with that call that had pulsed and drawn him forth, and found that he’d drawn just a fraction closer.
They still had a good way to go.
Naomi nestled her head upon the nape of his neck, drew her knees up into a side curl, and rested. It was startling to think that if she slipped and fell she’d be unable to protect herself. That this was the most vulnerable she’d been since he’d met her. A fierce resolve to protect her at all costs - while not making her feel weak - filled his being like heat from a burning oven.
On he flew, ever climbing, wary of the ceiling and any further menaces, until at last the tunnel leveled off once more. The gloom lightened, at first imperceptibly, then gradated up to a delicate gray. The closest side of the tunnel became visible, then the circumference of the whole, and then he saw up ahead a blinding light.
Squinting, he flew on, and then the ceiling was gone and the tunnel became another furrow, its edges spiked with stony growths. With sudden exuberance he surged upward, out into the daylight, and for a moment simply gloried in the brightness from the south.
The air was chill and alive with currents, and the southern light caught on every knob and crag and rock to cast long shadows that stretched toward the north. For a moment, all Scorio desired was to inhale deeply of the fresh air, flying ever higher, until at last he settled into a swooping glide that took them into a great curving circle and gazed about the new canyon.
It was nearly the exact duplicate of the one they’d left behind. It stretched north and south without interruption, a mile or so broad, and hemmed in on both sides by towering walls. This particular stretch was thickly overgrown with rust moss, but they’d seen as much during their sojourn down. When Iron mana blew thickly through its spindly, endlessly branching mass, their tips would glow cherry red as if incandescing, and the moss would spread a few inches more.
Neither of them spoke as Scorio circled around and around, dropping ever lower, until at last he alighted beside the furrow. Naomi slipped down to the ground, and Scorio allowed his Heart to gutter.
“Nothing yet,” she said, tone tight. “I can manipulate the mana as before, but my Heart’s still dead.”
“It’ll come back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Druanna would have given us a stronger warning about that fiend if it could permanently destroy your Heart with one blow.”
“There’s a lot she didn’t tell us.” Naomi crossed her arms and looked down the length of the furrow, a thick lock of black hair blowing across her face.
“She probably could have talked our ears off for hours and still not covered the half of it. We knew we’d have to survive on our wits.”
“Are you calling me witless?”
“Just a little. Don’t worry though. You’re still as charismatic as ever.”
Naomi’s eyes widened and then she laughed despite herself. “You’re insufferable.”
“So I’ve been told.” Scorio turned in a slow circle, taking in the distant cliffs. “Wait, who is it that’s been telling me that? Oh, that’s right. It’s you.”
“Can you still sense Nox?”
“Yes. I don’t think the signal’s moved, but then again, I can’t be sure. The tunnel is still heading roughly in the right direction.”
“So we continue below?” She couldn’t disguise her distaste.
“I don’t think we have… wait. Is that movement up there?”
Naomi sighted where he pointed at the spiky peaks of the western cliff. High above where the rock splintered into great knife blades something undulated like a thread weaving between needles.
They both stared. The tiny shape stopped moving, then slipped off the clifftop to spread wings and began flying their way.
“Shit,” said Naomi. “That’s a Ferric Drake.”
“The Ferric Drake Druanna warned us about?”
“Does it matter? We need to move.”
Naomi hopped up onto Scorio’s back as he ignited. His Heart was as compliant as ever, a marvel in comparison to its previous fractured self, but even its great might was starting to feel taxed by how much mana he’d been burning.
But they had no choice. Scorio ran to the furrow’s edge and leaped, his wings snapping out as he dipped below the upper ledge and they lost sight of their pursuer.
Down into the tunnel they flew, then Scorio hurled them forward, propelling them with urgent beats of his wings. The great yawning mouth of the tunnel rushed toward them and then they dove into the darkness once more.
Naomi occasionally twisted upon his back to gaze behind them, but each time she cursed beneath her breath, furious at her lack of darkvision. Scorio remained focused on speed; they surged forward, following the now familiar tunnel as it descended once more into the bowels of the Iron Weald.
Ferric Drakes are vicious, Druanna had told them on their third day after sighting a solitary hunter circling overhead. Fast, hard to hurt, and cunning. They’re opportunists, but luckily for them almost everything they find is a fair chance at a meal. Most are small, only six or seven yards long, but there’s no limit to how large they can grow. The Iron Tyrant makes a point of hunting down any that become too massive -
How massive is that? Scorio had interrupted.
Anything generally over fifteen yards, Druanna had said casually, causing Scorio to trip abruptly as he gaped at her. But they rarely get that big anymore. It takes them decades to reach ten, centuries to reach fifteen, and word gets to the Iron Tyrant before they can grow that large. The bigger they become the harder they are to kill, so it’s wise to have them destroyed before they come close to being a problem.
She’d eyed them both then, her humor evident. But even a Ferric Drake that’s a mere ten yards would gobble you both up for breakfast. Let me salute your wisdom in traveling with me once more.
It was impossible to tell if the Ferric Drake had followed them into the tunnel. Perhaps it had veered away at the last moment, choosing to avoid the World Worm’s mana-twisting aura. But even if it had followed them into the underworld, there was no way to tell how close it was. The wind in his ears made it impossible to discern the sound of approaching wingbeats, and the fiend hadn’t bothered to utter any warning shrieks.
So Scorio flew in silent fear, aware of Naomi’s fragility upon his back. He descended till he flew close to the ground, the rubble and spikes rushing by only a couple of yards below. Naomi didn’t question the decision. If they were attacked, he’d have to drop her quickly, and without igniting she’d not survive a fall.