Black fury roared forth to envelop the Nethercoil, blasting over it and then rising to track the leaping fiend as it bounded away. It leaped to the top of the closest cliff, its platinum armor charred and warped, its back leg twitching and faltering from the Shadow Petal’s blow. Fyrona, positioned above it on the hollowed-out face of the shattered hill, took a step forward and hit it with all her fury, blasting it with a sheet of black power.
The Nethercoil recoiled, crouched down, then whipped about and leaped at her, flinging itself through her attack, one arm raised to take the brunt of her assault, the other fist rising up to smear her across the hill.
“No!” Scorio flew after, but he was too far, too late. Nyrix scrambled back, loosing a bolt at the broken ground close by, clearly intent on opening a portal, but too late, caught flatfooted by the Nethercoil’s speed and resilience.
Fyrona screamed and leaned into her attack, fists thrust out behind her, eyes raging as she sought to cut the Nethercoil in half.
Time once more seemed to slow. Merideva blurred as she dashed toward the pair. Scorio strained to fly faster.
And then Alain stepped into view, just inside the Nethercoil’s swing, and punched the fiend in its platinum helm with his bare fist.
The energy released by the punch was tremendous, absolutely shattering, and a huge BOOM echoed off the walls as the Nethercoil’s helmet and pauldrons exploded. The massive fiend’s entire body twisted about as if it had run into an unbreakable column, the punch flinging it down the hill to tumble to the ground, tentacles boiling out of what had been its upper body, its arms slamming mindlessly at the ground, its entire body writhing and spasming as more and more tentacles burst free of its form.
The Nightmare Lady stepped out of the black mist beside it, more boiling up around her as she appeared, and set to chopping the fiend apart, each blow severing coils.
The Shadow Petal appeared beside her, blades flashing, and the pair made short work of the fiend, who proved unable to defend itself or even respond to the pair.
Scorio, eyes wide, simply stared at where Alain stood, arm still extended in his punch, white fire streaming from his knuckles, his face blank with shock.
Fyrona gaped at him as well. “Who the hell are you?”
Alain blinked, came back to himself, and straightened. He smiled crookedly and extended his hand. “Hi. I’m Alain. I’ve been meaning to ask you out on a date.”
Fyrona took his hand, her own grip weak. “I…” She didn’t seem to know what to say. “I mean, yeah. Sure.”
“Great.” Alain beamed, then looked to Scorio who was almost upon them. “She said yes!”
“I heard!” Scorio landed beside the pair. “How did you do that? One punch? You destroyed the Nethercoil with one damned punch?”
Alain tried for a nonchalant shrug. “I am perhaps the most deadly Flame Vault that ever walked.” He glanced at Fyrona to see how that line was received, then gave a chagrined smile. “Though actually I can’t do that again. The longer I go without hitting something, the more powerful my next strike becomes.”
“Damn.” Scorio realized he’d never asked Alain about his other abilities. “How long did that take to charge up?”
Alain winced. “Three months?”
“Watch out!” Merideva’s shout was firm, and everybody turned. “Ixithilions!”
“Thank you,” gushed Fyrona, sensing that their time was out. “You literally saved my life.”
“I know.” Alain smirked. “That was pretty amazing.”
Then the Ixithilions boiled over the cliff walls and descended into the pocket. Each was an ivory crustacean surrounded by a cloud of tendrils. They were spindly and elegant and moved with blurring speed upon legs that terminated in wicked needle points, their triangular heads boasting a single black eye that swiveled from side to side rapidly as they took in their prey. Six thick white tentacles emerged from the back of their heads, and these undulated in the air forming a shifting cloud, each ending in a metallic point a yard long.
“Damn,” hissed Scorio, and launched himself into the air, wings extending. There were four of the fiends, and they came in blindingly fast, even faster than the Nethercoil. Merideva darted back, leaving a single burning staff to parry the assault, and a bolt of Nyrix’s burst into a portal behind them through which Fyrona and he emerged. She blasted the rearmost Ixithilion even as she stepped out.
Four of them.
Should he take a pill?
The Nightmare Lady emerged on their flank and leaped into her attack, somersaulting so that her segmented tail whipped around, its great triangular blade slashing through the white tentacles of the closest fiend. The Shadow Petal appeared right above another, dropping and cutting as she fell.
The front two were fixated on Merideva, who dashed back again, appearing right at the rear of the lake, but before the two could close on her Scorio dove, entered his flame form, and passed clear through the lead fiend. It screeched and aborted its attack, leaping back and into the air like a cat, blackened tentacles thrashing. Scorio turned, flying backward, and inhaled his flames, but before he could exhale the second fiend was on him.
Its steel-tipped tentacles slammed into his chest, quicker than thought, and he felt his heavy plated scales crack and one shatter as the prong slid into him. The pain was wrenching, and he lost his focus so that he coughed up his flames rather than blow them forth.
A great, jagged cloud spurted into the air, less directed and more of a burning miasma, and the Ixithilion screeched and tore its tentacle free as it blackened.
And then the lake pocket was engulfed in pandemonium. The Ixithilions leaped and surged off the cliff faces, tentacles writhing, striking, sweeping, while the Shadow Petal and the Nightmare Lady struck and disappeared. Fyrona hung back, Nyrix portaling her away whenever a fiend came too close, blasting at those within her range, while Merideva fought with desperate skill to fend off a persistent fiend who surged against her from all sides.
Scorio hurled himself at whichever fiend came closest, his talons shearing through tentacles, but failed to deliver a mortal blow to the fiends proper; they were too swift, too agile, too adept at discerning his intent and leaping aside on their pinpoint legs.
But their tentacles flowed through the air with terrible precision; again and again they slammed into Scorio, bludgeoning him and occasionally stabbing through his less protected areas. The pain only drove him to greater fury, and finally, losing all patience, he dove at the closest one, powering through its flailing tentacles with his Shroud to tear deep into its white shell, rending and savaging with all the strength he could muster.
The Ixithilion keened as it toppled over onto its side, tentacles wrapping around Scorio’s Shroud to stab at him again and again, punching through his scales, but with a cry he tore its head asunder, bursting its eye, and the fiend quivered and lay still.
Gasping for air, bleeding profusely from dozens of deep stab wounds, Scorio turned, blinked dazedly, and fumbled the vial from his robe. He crunched his jaws about the delicate glass, and immediately a soothing balm washed over him, filling him with restored vitality and strength. The wounds sealed over, each exuding a glow of pink light, and the pain that had clouded his mind receded. In moments he felt renewed, and spitting out shards of glass, he took in the battlefield.
Nyrix and Fyrona were down, an Ixithilion stabbing at them again and again. The Nightmare Lady and the Shadow Petal had cornered another and were dismembering it with clinical precision. Merideva was fending off the third, backed up against a wall.
“Hey, you!” Scorio raced across the lake, its orange waters splashing up around his feet. The Ixithilion poised over the two fallen Dread Blazes paused and glanced back at him, then withdrew its tentacles from the fallen Great Souls and spun about, five metallic points aiming at him.