In the darkness he wished there was someone he could ask, a voice of experience he could trust. The White Queen, perhaps. Or… no one else came to mind. Nobody that he’d trust with his every secret, his every hope and ambition.
Except for Nox, of course.
Scorio cracked a smile, closed his eyes, and allowed his Heart to return to a steady burn so that he could reach out for the first time since arriving at the Fury Spires to that sense of heaviness, that feeling of being pulled by a Coal-drenched aura.
For a moment, he couldn’t place it. Then it was there, stronger than ever, vibrant and loud like an echoing bell of gargantuan proportions.
Scorio sat bolt upright. “Naomi!”
She burst into his room before he’d finished calling, her hair wild, her face alarmed in his darkvision. “What is it?”
“It’s Nox.” He checked again, and became sure. “His signal. That beacon? It’s moving toward us. It’s almost here.”
Chapter 12
“What do you mean?” Naomi crouched beside his bed, eyes wide. “He’s getting closer? Coming up into the hive?”
“No, not up… well, maybe.” Scorio closed his eyes and fought for calm, to focus on that imperative pull. “I don’t get a sense of height. I’d reckon he’s still far underground. But he’s definitely on the move.”
“Got impatient,” said Naomi dryly. “Can’t blame him. Plus he sensed you before, back in Bastion. Maybe he’s intending to make his way up here.”
“That wouldn’t be good.” Scorio tried to imagine explaining Nox’s presence to the Iron Tyrant. “We should head down, find him before he gets in trouble.”
“Fine by me.” Naomi rose and tugged on her belt. “That fight barely felt like a warm-up. I’m good to go.”
Scorio rose, and together they quit their chambers. Was it night? Day? Life in the Fury Spires eroded all sense of daily rhythms. The tunnels seemed more sparsely populated; did that mean it was dark outside? Then again, the Iron Weald’s irregular cycles didn’t help; while the Small Sun over the Rascor Plains wheeled quickly to the north, the slow ebb and flow of the Telurian Band acted as a dolorous counterpoint.
Banishing these musings from his mind, Scorio led the way, heading back out of the clusters to the large corridor that wrapped around the spherical core in great descending loops.
The few Great Souls that they passed gave curt nods but otherwise averted their eyes. Perhaps their bout against Jaks and her comrades had soured the locals’ interest. No matter.
The great curving hallways were cool in comparison to their rooms, and Scorio broke into a light jog, leading the way ever down and around, down and around. They passed numerous branching tunnels leading back in, but for as long as the main hallway descended, they stuck to it.
The tunnel changed after what might have been five revolutions. The ceiling rose away to become higher, while the walls pulled back, broadening the hall. The decline evened out and within moments, Scorio found that they were straying amidst a forest of stalactites, each glowing from within as if boasting a molten core.
The air grew simmering hot. Scorio’s scalp prickled with sweat, and soon his robes were clinging to his frame.
Naomi moved out wide, and together they pressed deeper into this new area. It was still roughly curving down and descending, as if they walked the last vestiges of a bowl’s curvature, but here and there vents appeared, their mouths burning bright white as they vented superheated air.
Scorio stopped and took a moment to simply take in their environs. They’d proceeded a good twenty or thirty yards in, and now the tunnel walls were barely visible in the distance.
“What do you think?” asked Naomi. “Continue straight?”
“Straight as we can,” agreed Scorio. He prowled on, deeper and deeper, and then came to freestanding wall section whose faces were covered with the most intricate and beautiful artwork he’d ever seen.
“What is this?” he whispered, slowing down to stare. The sections ranged in length, and together formed a simple maze. Bands of iron, obsidian, copper, gold, and even streaks of gemstones were interlaced in a manner similar to that which he’d seen in Xandera’s rooms. Here and there the walls had been defaced, with chunks of what might have been more precious substances torn free.
“It’s so beautiful,” said Naomi, touching one wall. “So… complex. An art gallery?”
“Perhaps.” Scorio glanced around. The wall sections formed a cordon around the huge chamber’s center, but was in no way a defensive measure; it was too easy to slip through them and leave the band of beautiful intricacy behind. “Maybe we’ll get a chance to ask Queen Xandera, later.”
Leaving the tapestry walls behind, they pressed deeper. The stalactites grew more massive as the ceiling rose ever higher, and their inner glow came through in curling rings around the inside of the inverted cones. It was nearly impossible to keep track of where they were relative to the rest of the spire, but they had to be moving closer to the center.
“Up ahead,” whispered Naomi. “Titans.”
They loomed massive and still in a line, easily some six or seven visible from where Scorio stood.
“What do you think?” Scorio crouched and rubbed his chin. “Just walk up?”
“They’ve no reason to attack us.”
“Who would know if they did?”
“Somebody would find all the broken Titans.”
“Ha. Alright. Let’s move a little closer.”
The blazeborn giants weren’t as dark and petrified as the ones arrayed before the Fury Spires’ main entrance. These were ashen gray, still as massive, but something about them felt alert.
Scorio reached out with his senses. The Iron was thick and molten here, moving with a fluidity that he hadn’t seen before. No traces of Bronze.
Stepping into view, Scorio approached slowly, palms raised.
The closest Titan remained still until Scorio was ten yards away, and then it came to life. All it did was turn its torso to orient on him, but something about that abrupt movement was ominous, menacing even.
“Hello?” Scorio studied the fiend. “Do you understand me?”
No response.
“We’re just passing through. Is that alright?”
The Titan didn’t move.
“Great.” Scorio glanced at Naomi. “Shall we try and pass between them?”
She nodded and made for the six or seven yard gap between the two closest Titans. Even though she moved like a shadow between the stalactites, the Titans responded by both orienting on her and then taking a single large stride simultaneously to narrow the gap between them.
Naomi drew up short. “Well that’s clear enough.”
Scorio considered. “We could get by them. But if they pursued us…”
“I could use my dark cloud step to pass through easily,” agreed Naomi. “But if that upsets them enough, we’d have trouble getting back without kicking up a fuss.”
“And then we’d have to explain to people why we were willing to cause problems down here. I don’t want to alert folks to Nox.”
Naomi frowned. “Maybe we can find another way.”
They walked along the outer perimeter of the Titans. There was one every eight yards or so, and Scorio felt each one’s attention fall upon them like a weighty mantle.
The tunnel no longer merited the name. It had broadened into a basement or cavern that seemed to lie beneath the entirety of the spire. They went all the way round, but the Titans had cordoned off a large area.
“Damn,” said Scorio when he thought they’d returned to their starting point. “What are they guarding?”
“It has to be something involving the caldera,” said Naomi. “Right?”
“But Queen Xandera can’t use it anymore. Why guard it?”
“Either we force our way through and find out, or… well. We ask.”
Scorio grinned. “You make that sound like the worst option.”