Scorio studied the distant clifftops. “You think another Ferric Drake’s going to find us here?”
“Doesn’t have to be a Ferric Drake. Could be any of the other things Druanna mentioned.” Naomi grimaced. “My Heart’s still not quite right. I can ignite for a brief spell, but wouldn’t last long in a fight. And you? You look half-dead.”
“So, the Fury Spires.” They arose to the north, towering over the cliffs, their peaks catching the faintest glow from the Telurian Band to the far south. “Safety?”
“Not safety,” said Naomi emphatically. “Just a different kind of enemy.”
“We can’t go around considering every single Great Soul an enemy.”
She arched a brow. “Are you so sure?”
“Yes. There’s a difference between not trusting folks and actively expecting everyone we meet to try and betray us.” Scorio turned back to the traveling group below. “A small difference, but a vital one.”
Naomi snorted.
“Alright. We head down and intercept them. What’s our story?”
“We don’t need to explain ourselves.”
“We kind of do. We’re south of the Fury Spires. Means we either passed them on purpose before or are coming up from the Telurian Band.”
“I already dislike everything about this plan. We tell them as little as possible.”
Scorio laughed. “We haven’t even come up with one yet. Fine. We’ll say we were traveling to the Nightsong Outpost with Druanna and were separated by a razor wind. Then we were attacked by a Ferric Drake. We fled into a World Worm tunnel and it chased us. We nearly escaped it, but had to fight just before we emerged into this valley. It was a small one, only six yards long. We killed it, and now need help.”
“Fine,” said Naomi. “Where’s the entrance to the tunnel? Why are we up here instead of next to it?”
“Simple. We climbed a crack through a cave system and emerged here. The tunnel’s below.”
Naomi stared down at the party. “I don’t like it.”
“I know.”
Scorio sat and meditated, Heart ignited, so that he could regain as much strength as possible as the small group below worked its way toward them. Only once the group was nearly abreast of them did he rise with a sigh, and together they descended, angling to intercept. The sky to the south lightened perceptibly as they did, turning pale gold at the horizon and curdling to honey then to metallic orange clouds.
They were sighted when they were within a few hundred yards.
Scorio waved in what he hoped was a friendly manner and continued their approach, picking a path between the rose and burnt umber-colored rocks.
“They’re not attacking on sight,” muttered Naomi from just behind. “A pleasant surprise.”
“Wait till they spend a little time in your company. There’s still time.”
Naomi laughed.
The leader of the group had moved to the fore. He was of medium stature, his skin a tawny terracotta. A mane of black, curly hair framed his angular features, and he sported a goatee that extended along the underside of his jawline and sent sparse twists of hair up his cheeks. Spectacles caught the distant southern light and glimmered pale gold, and his frame was wrapped in a voluminous traveling robe the color of rich earth.
“Hello,” called Scorio when they were but a score of yards away. “It’s good to see you. We had some trouble with a Ferric Drake.”
The crowd of Great Souls instinctively raised their gazes to scan the clifftops, but Scorio forced a smile and spread his hands. “Don’t worry. It’s dead.”
“Well met,” said their leader, his voice cultured and calm. “I am Faridian, a Dread Blaze in the service of the Iron Tyrant. What brings you to the southern reaches of Fury Valley?”
Scorio drew a little closer. “Fury Valley? We were fleeing the Ferric Drake. It chased us into a World Worm tunnel, where we were forced to kill it. My name’s Scorio, and this is Naomi. We’re both Flame Vaults -”
Scorio cut off his introduction. His name had had an immediate effect on the sparse crowd. The men and women behind Faridian stared at him with increased interest, some glaring, others alarmed, a few openly fascinated.
Faridian inclined his head. “We’ve heard of a Scorio that helped Imperator Sol defeat Imogen the Woe. A Scorio who also led House Kraken’s assault on the Iron Tyrant’s The Celestial Coffer, and who returned from the dead but recently to kill Chancellor Praximar, along with most of the leadership of the Manticore group.” Faridian’s smile was wry. “Do I have the honor of addressing said individual?”
Scorio grimaced. “I see my reputation precedes me.”
“How could it not?” Faridian’s smile turned genial. “All Great Souls dream of accomplishing mighty deeds, but few go about it in such an incendiary manner. But don’t worry, the Iron Tyrant made it clear that you were cleared of all wrongdoing. Which makes your tale all the more fascinating. But let’s get you to the Fury Spires. Do you think you can walk that far?”
Scorio eyed the mottled towers that loomed in the distance. “It’s amazing what one can do when they have no choice.”
“One last question. Have either of you associated yourselves with a House or faction?”
“No.” Scorio eyed the man. “Would it matter?”
“The Iron Tyrant tolerates all factions and Houses within the Fury Spires. But it’s incumbent upon me to understand whom I’m inviting into our home.”
“Understood.” Scorio winced as he closed the distance, Naomi his silent shadow. The other Great Souls spread out to form a semi-circle, most of them clearly interested in examining him further before they resumed their journey. Some looked vaguely familiar, but Scorio couldn’t place them.
“Allow me to introduce my Flame Vaults,” said Faridian, linking his hands behind his back. “Jaks, Dakshina, and Yuze.”
The three lifted their hands or inclined their heads in greeting.
Jaks was a slender blonde who’d cut her tousled locks to jaw length. Clad in orange gear and with delicate features, she studied Scorio and Naomi with defiant intensity.
Yuze was glaring at Scorio in the same manner. His black hair was cut into a messy mop, his harsh cheekbones dusted with a mess of freckles, his manner rigid and tense.
Only Dakshina seemed indifferent to his presence; she was tall, elegant, swan necked, her brown hair pulled into a long ponytail, her expression distant, her gaze mildly curious.
“We’ve met,” said Jaks, her gaze gleaming.
Yuze nodded coldly.
“We have?” Scorio searched his memory. “I, ah…”
“You don’t remember?” Jaks looked insulted. “You’re kidding me.”
“Looks like I made a good impression.”
“You beat me within an inch of my life.” She smiled provocatively. “Didn’t stick.”
“The Fiery Shoals,” said Yuze. “You were hunting Davelos. We tried to stop you.”
“Oh!” Scorio clapped his hand to his brow. “That’s right! I fought you in that hallway? There were a whole bunch of you. And, ah…”
The memories came flooding back. How in his savage fury he’d mauled and fought his way through a dozen Emberlings and Tomb Sparks to reach Davelos in his office. “Ah. Right.”
Jaks raised her chin. “We’ve grown in power since then. Maybe we can have a rematch sometime soon.”
“Two on two,” said Naomi. “A friendly spar. That sounds like fun.”
“Remember your oath,” said Faridian gently to his Flame Vaults. “No preexisting debts or feuds take priority to your obligations to the Fury Spires.”
“I was suggesting a friendly spar,” protested Jaks innocently. “Nothing more.”
Faridian stared at Jaks, but the slender woman smiled brightly till he sighed and turned back to Scorio. “Let me introduce you to the others, then we can converse as we go?”