It was as if the tremendous heat had smelted her form. Gone was the smooth skin. She now appeared formed of recently cooled volcanic ichor, the seams between the plates of rough rock burning bright, her body still feminine and humanoid, but devoid of clothing so that her lithe and powerful frame was resplendent. Her hands burned bright like iron pulled from a forge, and thick rivers of burning orange ran up her shins from where her feet remained buried in the lake.
Breathing deeply, she lifted her face to where Scorio and the others stood. Her hair hung in dark ropes down her back almost to her knees, reversed from before so that it was black at the roots and lightened at the last to bright orange and yellow. This thick mass was held back by black blades of obsidian that grew from her brow like a natural crown, and her throat and jaw and the center of her face yet burned bright, a vivacious orange, her eyes bright gold, her cheeks and brow and the bridge of her nose darkening to black stone.
“Damn,” whispered Alain.
Scorio knew what he referred to. Xandera exuded power. It burned off her in near visible pulses. Gazing back down at her, meeting her eyes, Scorio felt all surety disappear. There was no doubting that this was a fiend, a blazeborn queen, a creature of regal and unearthly might.
A creature of hell.
For a few hours there he’d lulled himself into thinking she might be something akin to a human girl, a mortal youth, but now, seeing her clothed in the thinnest layer of dark rock that did little to hide the truth of her volcanic core, such illusions fell away.
Scorio raised his fist in salutation. “Queen Xandera!”
Her voice was laughter, rich with delight in her own power and newfound maturity. “Scorio! I am home, and my heart is filled with joy. Come! There are many that we must kill.”
And a bridge of magma rose from the lake, cooling impossibly quickly into black stone as it did, so that in moments it extended from the edge of their outcropping to curve down to the far shore.
Scorio couldn’t show doubt. He crossed this bridge with confidence, accepting her courtesy, and descended to the rocky beach.
Xandera watched them, and when she deemed them where she desired, she turned once more to the lake. “My children! I am returned home! Your mother, your queen! Heed my call! Awaken from your stupor, shake off your lethargy, and attend me!”
A pulse of power flooded out, palpable, and a moment later Scorio saw the magma farther out in the lake swell upward, pouring off a giant that floated up into view.
It was one of the enhanced Titans that he’d espied before. This one was easily some thirty feet tall, its figure paunchy, its shoulders rounded, one side of its body an endless series of concentric ripples of bright lava, the other a collection of cooled black plates surrounded by orange. Its head looked like a sculpted bust that had been stomped on, great chunks separated by more magma, its mouth downturned, its eyes blazing like orange eggs.
“My child,” crooned Xandera, floating toward this Titan upon a column of molten rock. “I see you. You are no longer alone. Such strength. Such power. But not as you should be. Not as you could be. Come, let me make you… more.”
Xandera extended her hands, and the Titan’s body shook. It let out a moan that echoed dolorously through the great cavern, and then its body compressed. The paunch, the massive arms, the thick, elephantine legs, they all tightened and darkened as plates of dark stone edged in crimson grew over them. Its form grew narrow-waisted, its shoulders a collection of huge black talons, its head a featureless black mask perforated only by its twin burning eyes which lightened from orange to near white. Its hands became talons similar to Scorio’s, and when its reshaping was finally done it had shrunk from its original thirty feet to a mere fifteen.
Yet it looked infinitely more dangerous, more composed, more aware.
Xandera considered her handiwork and then looked over one charred shoulder at where Scorio and the others stood. “There are two others that I must gather. My absence has sent them into a deep slumber. Wait.”
And she flew forward over the lake, propelled by a great column of burning orange. A deep wake slowly filled in beside her, thick as honey, and a moment later her form was lost amidst the fumes and smoke.
“Hi,” called Alain, waving to the newly reforged Titan. “My name’s Alain. I think we’re supposed to be friends.”
“That won’t work,” sighed Naomi.
“Never hurts to try.”
The Titan considered them, its fiery stare intense, then simply sank back into the lava which rippled and consumed it whole.
Alain cupped his hands to his mouth. “Alright, great meeting you!”
“What’s the plan?” asked Naomi, tone businesslike. “Bravurn and the Iron Vanguard are up there. That’s almost a hundred Great Souls, all of them sworn to him. So how do we do this?”
Scorio frowned at the distant cavern ceiling. He thought of the hive, the curved hallways, of Bravurn’s Pyre Lords, of his Dread Blazes and Flame Vaults.
“Luckily for you both,” said Alain, “you’re in the presence of a supreme lurker who spent months lurking in the hallways above. I think I know how to get us to him.”
“I thought you might,” said Scorio, but then he thought of the Blood Ox draining his friends, draining Naomi, of their blood and power. Thought of Bravurn warning the True Fiend, colluding with him so that hundreds upon hundreds would die. “But if your plan fails and we have to butcher a path to him? That’ll work just fine, too.”
Chapter 51
Xandera returned soon after with two more enhanced Titan blazeborns. Each was a replica of the first, and each exuded a sense of overt menace. Ten to fifteen feet tall, almost exclusively composed of rough obsidian but for where seams of magma betrayed their molten cores, they were remote, elegant, brutal, and silent.
“So close,” said Xandera, pressing one hand to the hip of a flanking Titan. “Here below my hive, amidst these children of mine. These composites. I can feel the layers of my children within them. The hundreds that I sacrificed to make these warriors. It grieves me that I was driven to such extremes. But now has come the time for vengeance.”
“You did what you could with what you had,” said Scorio. “But yes. Time to find Bravurn. Alain here had a suggestion.”
Queen Xandera turned her blazing eyes upon the Flame Vault, who visibly steeled himself. “There are a whole bunch of spires above us, and Bravurn picked the biggest one to live in. The others are empty and abandoned. I thought originally of our going straight up, because you ringed the entrance there with a whole bunch of your regular Titans, but even with them we’d probably have to fight our way through the whole hive, right?”
Xandera crossed her arms. “An alluring prospect.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I’m not sure you have the full measure of what Bravurn and his Pyre Lords can do. Um.” Alain glanced at Scorio for reassurance. “So I thought, let’s go up into one of the side spires. We can climb up as high as we need to go, then cross over to Bravurn’s level and catch him flat-footed.”
“Your previous self could speak with her blazeborns throughout the hive,” said Scorio. “Maybe you can establish contact again and have them revolt when we launch our attack?”
Xandera canted her head to one side, considered, then smiled. “I like your idea. We’ll do that.”
“We will?” Alain looked taken aback, then gave a shaky grin. “Great! I, ah, don’t know how to navigate down here, though.”