Pyre Lady Druanna snorted in amusement. She formed the last point of their triangle around the fire, and lay casually on her bedroll as she carved another sliver from a dawn apple. “With ease? Didn’t you say it took you two years of being buried in the Crucible?”
Scorio waved his hand. “Let’s not dwell on the details. The fact remains that I can execute the technique with but a thought.”
“It’s impossible. It’s - it’s unnatural that you can perform a Pyre Lord technique as a Flame Vault.”
“She has a point.” Druanna slipped the apple slice in her mouth and chewed slowly, eyeing him. “At least, I’ve never heard of anyone who can do it before my rank. It’s part of the trial, being able to manipulate mana as you do.”
“What can I say?” Scorio tried to school his features into the most annoying expression of complacent arrogance he could manage. “I’m probably going to be the next Iulius the Golden.”
Naomi abruptly dropped out of her Nightmare Lady form as she sat cross-legged before the fire. “Nonsense. The very thought makes me sick. You’re a naive buffoon. You would have died as a Char if I hadn’t taught you the basics of mana manipulation. I will master this technique.”
Scorio looked over to Druanna. “Her lessons usually involved beating me to within an inch of my life in the hopes that I’d crawl away and never return. Didn’t work though.” He beamed at Naomi’s scowl. “And now here I sit, Naomi’s greatest accomplishment. It must bring you such joy, to know that the student has finally outgrown the master.”
Naomi hissed, but her reply was cut short by Druanna. “You two have the oddest way of flirting.”
“Flirting?” Naomi sounded horrified. “You think I feel anything but disgust at the sight of his mooncalf smile?”
“Mmhmm,” said Druanna, carving herself another slice.
Scorio chuckled awkwardly. “Hardly flirting. I’m just getting a little vengeance for all the torment she put me through. Right, Naomi? Just some good, old-fashioned revenge.”
“Precisely.” Naomi sat up straight and pushed her shoulders back as she closed her eyes. “Rank ingratitude for the wisdom I shared with him. At best, I imagine he thinks his immature goading will provoke me to greater efforts. But I am above his asinine manipulations. I shall achieve this breakthrough through clarity of mind, strength of purpose, and indomitable will.”
“Let’s see it then,” grinned Scorio. “Pull in the mana, burn it, and replenish your reservoir without stopping.”
“Delightful Secret Marinating technique,” whispered Naomi, resting her hands lightly on her knees as she lowered her chin. “Delightful Secret Marinating technique.”
Scorio reached out with his senses to observe the ambient mana. The canyon was filled with Iron, the thick and potent mana slowly rolling up between the sheer walls like an endless tide of molten metal, shot through here and there with veins of vibrant Copper.
The Iron around Naomi began to swirl and collapse into her Heart. She drew on it slowly, with measured discipline, delaying the point where she’d saturate her reservoir completely.
The Delightful Secret Marinating technique involved being able to burn mana even as one drew on it. This allowed a Great Soul to keep their Heart ignited for as long as there was ambient mana within reach. Without it, a practitioner was limited to alternating between burning what they’d collected in their reservoir or actively collecting more.
The concept was simple, the execution fiendishly difficult. If Scorio hadn’t been protected by Ydrielle’s paralyzing cocoon, he’d have been immolated by the Gold mana long before he’d learned to burn it off. For all his mockery, Naomi was attempting to pull off a technique far beyond a Flame Vault’s capabilities without the benefit of either Nox’s jelly bath or Ydrielle’s buffering power.
It should have simply been impossible.
Categorically so.
Yet she refused to give up.
The Iron mana sank into her Heart, which flared to life as she ignited, then guttered out as she released, then ignited again, then guttered out once more. Sweat beaded Naomi’s brow. Iron poured into her Heart. Scorio leaned forward, willing her to succeed. To find the trick behind splitting the mana so that she could ignite and draw simultaneously.
Even Druanna had ceased chewing as she watched the other Flame Vault.
More and more Iron mana flowed into Naomi’s Heart, its pattern of igniting and guttering growing more rapid, a flickerflash of power and darkness, alternating faster and faster, until he knew her reservoir had to be strained to the point of bursting.
With a cry of rage, she gave up and again leaped to her feet, flowing up into her Nightmare Lady as her Heart blazed forth with its surfeit of power. Black inky mist rose up all around them, dimming the campfire’s light, and the already dark canyon took on an ominous aspect as she gave vent to her Flame Vault power.
Rock exploded as she shattered a boulder with a flick of her tail, and she screamed up at the sky in sheer frustration and an excess of power.
Once again, she’d drawn too much. Once again, she’d filled her reservoir to the point of splitting it wide open.
If she didn’t burn off the mana quickly, she’d be mana-sick for days.
Druanna sat up, expression grim, but Scorio raised a palm. “I’ll take this one, Pyre Lady.”
Druanna studied him for but a second then sank back down.
Scorio rose. His Heart was already mostly saturated with Iron, so he ignited with but a flex of his will and felt his black scales steal forth to cover his shoulders and arms, his back and chest. They flowed down over his thighs, covered his calves, and huge horns swept back from his brow as he grew in height.
His hands extended into huge claws, their cruel tips burning a bright and virulent white, then gradating through cherry red to dark crimson at their base.
The Nightmare Lady was shaking where she stood, her gaunt and skeletal frame shivering as if from cold. But as Scorio stepped out around the campfire, she settled, locking her blazing green gaze on him with something akin to murderous gratitude.
“Come on,” Scorio whispered. “Let it go.”
The growing banks of shadows around them empowered Naomi, made her appear taller, more malefic, a creature torn from a nightmare in truth. She threw herself at him, but disappeared as she passed through an intervening mass of shadow, teleporting out of sight.
Scorio forced himself to remain relaxed. He knew where she’d gone. Without losing momentum, she burst out of the shadows behind him, tail slashing through the air.
He turned at the last moment and raised his arm. Her great triangular blade slammed into the heavy scales of his forearm with punishing force and bounced clear off.
Then she was upon him, claws slashing and raking, green eyes leaving haunting trails of smeared light behind where she bobbed and weaved, darted in and leaped high. Her tail was everywhere, slashing and stabbing at him, probing for weakness, and the power behind each attack was thunderous.
Scorio weathered the storm.
He blocked and dodged, but sometimes he simply leaned into the blows, taking them full on upon his scaled hide. They hurt, but his scales bore the brunt of the blows, insulating him from potential damage.
Naomi darted away, disappearing into a thick wall of roiling shadow, appeared to his side, struck, darted away again. Scorio had learned to not try and keep track of her during these hit and run moments. Spinning in circles only left him off-balance. Instead, he stood calmly, trusting his instincts and peripheral vision, and each time she manifested, he reacted, sometimes too late to duck or punch her bladed tail away, to lean back away from her claws or simply take the blow when it came in too fast, too hard.
The freezing air was filled with the sound of her hisses and cries, his grunts and occasional laughter.