“Scorio’s right,” said Naomi reluctantly. “If he never took them, it’s possible they were too powerful even for a Blood Baron. A Flame Vault like you? No chance.”
Alain sighed.
“What else?” Scorio turned back to the desk and began opening drawers. He found a slender silver knife, ink kits, neat piles of parchment, and a signet ring with a curious device on its face: an inverted crown laid over two crossed staffs with curled tops.
“Here,” said Naomi, taking up a solidly bound leather-backed tome. “It’s got dates. Maybe his journal?”
Scorio accepted it and flicked through the pages. “It’s written in code. How paranoid was he?”
“Appropriately paranoid,” said Alain.
“And some correspondence.” Naomi pulled some tiny scrolls from an equally small drawer. Each was no larger than her pinky and had been sealed with crimson wax bearing the same crown and double staves symbol. She opened a couple. “And also in code.”
“So it wasn’t a language of his own making, but something he shared with others.” Scorio opened more drawers. They drew out pouches of gems, a lock of brown hair tied with a crimson ribbon, a pair of emerald dice, a charcoal portrait of a young man with a blithe smile dated 829, and other curios and knickknacks whose importance evaded them.
Alain was studying the journal. “We need to crack this code. Right?” He looked up. “You guys think he was one of these Herdsmen you’re so interested in? I do. I mean, these crossed staves look like shepherd crooks to me.”
“But the crown’s upside down,” said Naomi, turning the ring over.
Alain shrugged. “Maybe they’re anti-monarchy?”
“At the end, he was furious, but he kept talking in terms of ‘we’.” Scorio thought back to their fight. “He made it sound like I was meant to be a tool of ‘theirs’. That I was growing faster than ‘they’ expected. I don’t know. But it’d make sense.” Scorio stared angrily at the desk. “And now we have all this information, and can’t read any of it.”
“Yet,” said Alain. “I’m good at cracking codes. I’ve a lot of experience reading other people’s letters and figuring out their secrets. Just give me a week and I’ll tell you what they were chatting about.”
Naomi rolled her eyes.
Blazeborns were entering the vault. Titans shattered crates and lifted large amphora out which they handed to drudges who stomped out carrying their precious cargo.
“What do you think, Queen Xandera?” Scorio called out. “Enough?”
“Oh, yes,” said the queen, her burning smile viciously content. “More than enough. Now we need but pray the Blood Ox gives us time. For if he does? Then he shall be met by an army unlike any that has ever walked the realms of hell.” Her eyes blazed. “An army composed of pure royalty.”
“And a few misfits,” added Alain. “I mean, I’m too modest to phrase it otherwise.”
“Even so,” allowed the queen. “When you stand with my selves and I, you shall be like kings.”
Scorio inhaled deeply, and a dangerous hope quickened in his chest.
Chapter 57
Each hour before the Blood Ox’s arrival was fraught.
Queen Xandera imbued her eggs with Gold mana in privacy, assisted by her own blazeborns. Naomi reported that Bravurn’s actual quarters were utterly demolished. Lookouts were placed high up the spire with a view of the dismal canyon stretching south.
Scorio summoned the Iron Vanguard to the caldera of a neighboring spire. He gave them little time to gather; at any moment he expected to be called to war.
When the totality of Bravurn’s former forces were gathered, he stood with only Naomi for company to gaze at the ninety or so Great Souls who studied him as intently in return.
“Hello.” Scorio pitched his voice to carry, but otherwise didn’t try for an inspiring or commanding tone. “My name is Scorio. My friends and I killed Bravurn for betraying our cause. He warned the Blood Ox of the Telurian Band assault on LastRock, which led to the Ox sending his fiends to assault our war camp while he fled here.”
Nobody looked surprised, but a few blanched at the facts being stated so baldly.
“Bravurn has you all still bound by your Heart Oaths. But I want to believe that this news came as a shock to the majority of you. That you signed up with the Iron Vanguard to help him fight off the Gurlocks and do guard duty on his whale ship in exchange for Gold mana. Those of you who knew but were constrained by your oaths, well. Wiser men and women than me will determine your fates.”
Valdun and Amity pursed their lips as most of the other Great Souls glanced at them.
“Naomi and I fought the Blood Ox in the Telurian Band. Well. We fought his Gold-ranked fiends, and were immediately defeated when he showed up. We know what’s coming, but the reason we’re not evacuating the Fury Spires for the Fiery Shoals is because there are two Imperators waiting in the wings. Azeran and Sarana. They can’t come too close or the Blood Ox will sense them and remain hidden in his Sanctum. So it’s our job to draw him out by destroying as much of his army as we can.”
Scorio raised his hand to forestall the protests. “It won’t be just us. Queen Xandera is birthing even now an army of queen blazeborns like herself. She’s promised us some twenty queens and a hundred or so Titans to join us. Our job is not to fight the Blood Ox, but to kill enough of his elites to draw him forth so that the Imperators can bring down the hammer. That being said, Tomb Sparks without obvious utility powers won’t be taking part. You’ll board Bravurn’s whale ship and head north to the Fiery Shoals. In this fight, you’ll just be casualties.”
That covered almost two-thirds of those gathered; their expression of relief were obvious.
“I don’t have time to review what the Flame Vaults can do. I’ll let Valdun and Amity decide your battle plan. But soon, perhaps any moment now, the enemy army will ruck up to our door expecting a gift of Gold mana. We’re going to surprise them and inflict as much damage as we can.”
Amity raised his hand. “What if the Blood Ox is there, expecting to parlay with Bravurn?”
“Then we’re dead,” said Scorio simply.
“Oh.” Amity lowered his hand.
“But if he’s hiding out in his Sanctum, we’ll have a chance to spring our trap. Alain—wherever he is—is in constant contact with Moira now. He’ll alert her, and she’ll tell the Imperators that our fight has begun. We need only last long enough to provoke the Blood Ox, then quit the field. The rest of the fight will be the Imperator’s business.”
Scorio made no mention of how quickly the True Fiend could appear. How unlikely it was that they’d all make a clean escape.
“Alright.” Valdun nodded slowly. “We can arrange ourselves to the best of our abilities. But you’re determined to do this? You can leave. The Iron Vanguard has the responsibility here. You’ve done your part.”
“No, I won’t run.” Scorio dismissed the notion with a chop of his hand. “We’ll fight together. Just… figure out how you’re going to fight. Do it now, then be ready for the signal. Clear?”
There was a murmur of agreement, but it didn’t sound enthusiastic.
“Good. Valdun, Amity, if anything comes up, come find me.”
“And I’ll say one thing,” hissed Naomi, her intensity sudden and fierce. “You all here are responsible in some manner for this. Whether through greed or indifference or sheer incompetence, you did nothing to prevent this from happening. If you don’t fight to the best of your abilities, if you do anything underhand, I will hunt you down and cut off your heads. Clear?”
“Damn,” said Amity. “Ease up there, Girl.”
And such was Amity’s power that even Naomi looked mollified. “You know what I’m saying. Don’t make this situation worse.”
“For better or worse, we’ll play our part,” said Valdun solemnly. “Everyone, gather round. We’ve got lots to discuss.”