Naomi was scowling. Scorio didn’t know what to say.
The Iron Tyrant smiled again, the expression dying an awful death before it came within a million miles of his eyes. “Well. This has been a pleasant little chat. I’m delighted that you saw fit to come to the Fury Spires after all.” He stood. “I look forward to seeing you around.”
Scorio and Naomi also rose to their feet.
The Iron Tyrant gestured to his door. “Through there will lead to one of the many ramps I had carved into this hive to ease our passage. Descend, and you will find yourselves once more at your cluster. Enjoy my hospitality. I ask nothing in exchange but for your calm consideration of my words once your disgust and anger have abated. Good day.”
Scorio nodded jerkily, not trusting himself to speak, and led Naomi to the doorway. He stood there for but a moment, and fought the urge to gaze in the direction of Queen Xandera’s chambers.
He struggled for a second, but then mastered himself. That done, he opened the door, and departed the Iron Tyrant’s quarters.
Chapter 10
Naomi stalked ahead of Scorio the whole way down to their rooms, her body practically vibrating with fury, such that other Great Souls instinctively drew back, alarmed, at the intensity of her expression.
Upon entering their chambers she immediately shifted into her Nightmare Lady form, her Heart blazing to life. With a cry, she spun and slashed her bladed tail across the inner curve of the room, sending shards of rock flying.
Scorio leaped back, arms raised to protect his face.
The Nightmare Lady hissed and whipped around once more, gouging four deep grooves into the stone with a slash of her talons.
“The bastard,” she cried, casting around for something else to attack, but the common room was so simply furnished there was nothing to break. Instead, she prowled around the back of the room like a caged fiend. “Showcasing us his enslaved queen and speaking of logic and rationality. Appealing to our pragmatic sides. Giving us a tour of his little kingdom.”
Scorio crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
“Did he think that would impress us? That we would be stunned by his accomplishments and bend knee?” The Nightmare Lady swung back, tail dancing to and fro, her whole body hunched over. “That we would applaud his pathetic ambition and be so impressed with his power that we’d roll over and beg for his patronage?”
“I think he did,” said Scorio. “And I think he knew the display would upset us. It’s why he told us to think about his offer after we’d calmed down. Why he made a point of portraying emotions as a weakness.”
Inky black clouds were starting to arise around the common room, smothering the golden radiance. The Nightmare Lady’s form was becoming more gaunt, more horrific. Still she prowled back and forth, hands flexing, seeking, yearning for something to break.
“Let’s be quit of this place,” she hissed. “Let’s go, now, before we get enmeshed in whatever ridiculous plots are being hatched. These people know only their own greed and will sacrifice anything and everything on the altars of their ambitions. Now, Scorio. We need to leave.”
“Alright.” The more agitated she became, the calmer he wished to be. “And where do we go?”
“Anywhere is better than here!” She whipped around once more, pacing, head swaying from side to side. “The depths of the Iron Weald, into the Telurian Band. Let’s find us some Blood Ox fiends and slaughter them, let’s find some of these Gold elites people speak of. Let’s drown the injustices of this world in blood.”
“Run blindly into the Telurian Band? We’d be liable to miss the real battle. To waste time trying to find the enemy.”
The Nightmare Lady stilled and glared at him. “A true predator can always find prey.”
“Our true prey is locked away in LastRock.” Now Scorio did push off the wall and approached her, fearless in his human form. “All of this is politics. Blood Barons and Pyre Lords maneuvering for power. Charnel Dukes obeying their betters and trying to win this war against the Blood Ox before it’s abandoned. We need to make the most of this opportunity to kill the right fiends so that we can learn about the Herdsmen.”
Inky clouds swirled around his waist, obscured the walls. Scorio stopped before the Nightmare Lady and met her sulfurous green glare dead on. “We run out of here to make our way blindly to the Telurian Band and we’ll lose our chance to do that.”
“I thought you wanted to meet with Nox,” sneered the Nightmare Lady. “Then return to Nightsong and get an escort into the Telurian Band.”
“And I still do. But we’ve learned some important information since arriving. Events are in motion. The war is coming to a head. Don’t get me wrong. I’m as sickened by the Iron Tyrant as you are. But this place is where the factions are coming to plan the final attempt to defeat the Blood Ox. We need to be here when they do, and throw our weight in with the right group.”
The Nightmare Lady’s upper lip writhed back from her fangs and for a second Scorio thought she’d lash out at him - but then she shrank back into her human body, her eyes narrowed, her face flushed, her scowl fit to curdle milk. The ink dissipated and she took two steps forward to drop into the rotunda and flop back against the cushions.
“Fine. I’ll curb my instincts for now. If you think we need to take part in this charade, we’ll take part. But I refuse to be used. I’ll swear no Heart Oaths and I’ll only follow the lead of a Great Soul I respect.”
“Or one we think we stand a good chance of using to our own ends,” said Scorio, exhaling in relief. “We just need to lie low, take care of ourselves, and wait to see how this plays out. But you know what I really want to do?”
“Does it involve dragging the Iron Tyrant down into that labyrinth and feeding him to the magma giant?”
“Close.” Scorio stepped down to sit beside her. “I want to ask Queen Xandera about that magma giant without the Iron Tyrant being there.”
“You think she knows about it?”
“That part of the labyrinth is beneath this valley, right? How deep do the roots of the Fury Spires go?” Scorio leaned forward and rubbed his chin. “I bet the Iron Tyrant doesn’t know there’s a magma giant capable of killing Ferric Drakes on his doorstep. And if the queen knows, then that means she’s playing a much more interesting game than just bending knee to the Iron Tyrant.”
“She doesn’t have knees,” said Naomi petulantly.
Scorio laughed. “Fine. Bending her coils? How would you say it?”
“Excuse me?” The new voice interrupted before Naomi could respond. “Hello?” Jaks appeared at the entrance to their common room. Her blonde hair was freshly washed and combed back, the grooves from her comb still evident as furrows, and she’d cinched a belt tightly about a fresh set of robes. “I heard voices.”
“Jaks,” said Scorio. “What can we do for you?”
Jaks’ smile was challenging. “Are you settling in alright? Yuze, Dakshina and I got to talking. What happened at the Fiery Shoals has left a bad taste in our mouths. So we were wondering if you two would be up for a friendly fight.”
“Friendly fight?” asked Naomi, leaning forward, smile alarming. “Yes. Absolutely. Now?”
Jaks frowned at her. “No, not this second. I meant soon. Friendly bouts are called Testaments here in the Fury Spires. We’d have to get a judge to make sure it’s fair and all. But it’s a way of establishing the pecking order, to see who’s ranked where. They happen pretty often, no big deal. I’m currently at #12 out of all the Flame Vaults, and Yuze is #23. What do you say? Two against two, seeing as we’re all Flame Vaults now.”