“Oh. Right. Of course. Sorry, Scorio. I kind of forgot there for a moment.”
“We’re not sticking around,” muttered Naomi.
“We’ll need to find Nox before the fight,” said Scorio. “I’m the only one who can sense where he is, so if I die you’ll never find him down there. Oh. And there are the, ah, magma giants you need to get past, which requires Queen Xandera’s permission.”
“What the hell is he talking about now?” demanded Leonis. “Every other thing that comes out of this man’s mouth is more ridiculous than the last. It’s infuriating!”
Lianshi stilled, clearly focusing her self-control. “Scorio. Are you saying you’ve spoken with the blazeborn queen?”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes snapped open. “With the Iron Tyrant’s permission? Wait. What am I saying. Of course not. You snuck into the queen’s chambers and got her permission to get past… magma giants? Which implies they’re under her control?” Her expression grew alarmed. “You’re saying Queen Xandera controls magma giants?”
“Well, one or two.” Scorio glanced to Naomi for help, but her expression remained stony. “They’re under the Fury Spires.” For a second he hesitated, considered not telling them what they’d discovered, but his imminent death, despair, and loneliness coupled with the fact that they were Leonis and Lianshi overcame his caution. “They’re huge and powerful, but not enough to destroy the Fury Spires. She’s slowly feeding her drudges and Titans to them to grow their power.”
“The hells wept,” said Leonis, sagging back against the rotunda. “And you’ve not told the Iron Tyrant?”
“Of course he hasn’t,” said Lianshi. “But… why not?”
“Why not?” Scorio’s expression hardened. “Maybe part of me wants her to succeed at tearing herself and her kind free of this slavery.”
“Even if it means all of us dying?” asked Leonis.
“I haven’t gotten that far,” allowed Scorio. “But no. I don’t want Great Souls to die, either. I’ve got this half-baked plan to convince her to hold off till the Fury Spires are mostly emptied for the battle against the Blood Ox.”
“Half-baked like all your plans,” sneered Naomi.
Lianshi blew out slowly, a controlled and measured exhalation, and placed both palms on her knees. “Alright. You’re fighting a Charnel Duke soon, but intend to lead Naomi to an Imperial Ghost Toad’s sacred gel bath first so she can begin the process of making Dread Blaze, something you can only do because you’ve received permission from the enslaved blazeborn queen to bypass her magma giants, beings she’s created secretly so as to enact a rebellion and earn her kind’s freedom.” She fixed Scorio with a level stare. “Is there anything else you think we should know?”
“I think that’s the long and short of it,” said Scorio.
“And the fact that he’s a purblind idiot,” said Naomi.
“I won’t argue that one.” Scorio glanced down at his hands. “Though I’ll note I was actively trying to make my own decisions here, and not just be led by those with use for me.”
“Fine. That’s fair.” Naomi’s tone remained flat. “We can’t blame your idiocy on anyone else.”
Lianshi glanced from Naomi to Scorio, eyebrows raised.
“Well,” said Leonis with forced heartiness. “If nobody objects, what say you all to our finding Nox right now before Scorio finds a quicker way to kill himself?”
“Leonis!” protested Lianshi.
“No, that’s fair,” said Scorio. “Knowing I was leaving you three in Nox’s hands would give me some measure of peace before I have to face Plassus.”
Naomi let out a cry of disgust. “I can’t stand this stupidity! We’re leaving. We’re leaving. You’re not fighting a damned Charnel Duke. Why am I the only one who seems to care about your life?”
Scorio stared at Naomi sadly.
“I… I wouldn’t fault you if you did decide to leave,” said Lianshi softly.
Leonis frowned but remained silent.
“I’m not leaving,” said Scorio.
“Pah!” Naomi shoved off the wall. “Well I won’t stand around waiting for your execution. If you refuse to leave, then I’m going to have to find another way to resolve this.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Scorio, rising to his feet.
“You’ve made a hideous mess out of everything,” hissed Naomi, striding toward the exit tunnel. “Looks like I’ve no choice but to find a way to fix it.” Her expression became one of raw grief mixed with fury, and then she was gone, fleeing their cluster.
“Naomi!” Scorio leaped out of their cluster. “Damn it!” He rushed to the mouth of their tunnel only to see the Iron Tyrant himself striding his way, clad in his ceremonial robes of crimson and gold, his lipless mouth pursed, his dark eyes burning with intent. Amity and Valdun followed a step behind, with Amity sidestepping to make room for Naomi who rushed past them and continued racing off down the hall.
“Excuse me,” said Scorio, trying to give chase.
“Hold, Scorio.” The Iron Tyrant’s voice was stern. “I would speak with you.”
“I’m sorry.” Scorio watched Naomi became the Nightmare Lady just before she rounded the distant tunnel’s curvature and disappeared from sight. “I need to catch my friend.”
“Scorio.” It was Valdun who spoke now, tone incredulous. “The Iron Tyrant’s descended to your rooms to speak with you. He’s your host and a Blood Baron both.”
“You will want to hear what he has to say, lad,” said Amity. “Unless you want to insult him to his face and see where that takes you.”
Scorio closed his eyes and fought for patience, for self-control. Every second was priceless, but hadn’t his impulsivity cost him his life already?
“I’m sorry,” he said, hastily bowing. “I’m already a dead man. I have to catch my friend.”
He made to dart by but Amity raised both hands, and suddenly seemed to become more real than the world around him. His craggy features, his pale blond and scruffy beard, his kindly blue eyes. “Listen, lad. Don’t throw your life away. There’s yet hope if you’ve the wisdom to search for it in the right place. Trust me. Just give Bravurn a couple of minutes. It could very well change everything for you.”
Scorio stared, transfixed, then his shoulders slumped. The Nightmare Lady already had an irrevocable lead. Even if he tore after her now he’d not know which tunnel to chase down. Stopping to ask if people had seen her would only lose more time.
He closed his eyes, regret and bitterness flooding him. What was she going to do? How could he prevent her from throwing her life away after his own? How had he let events spiral out of control so quickly?
“Good man,” said Amity, his tone rough and sympathetic.
Bravurn nodded curtly and brushed past Scorio to enter his cluster. A moment later Lianshi and Leonis excused themselves, eyes wide once more.
“We’ll wait down the hall,” whispered Lianshi as she passed him.
Scorio nodded numbly.
Valdun gestured for Scorio to follow the Iron Tyrant, and soon they all stood within the common room. Bravurn made a slow circle of the premises, gaze dismissive, then turned to face Scorio. “I’ll be succinct. You are a dead man. For reasons I cannot fathom you have chosen not to respond to my offer, and have instead given Charnel Duke Plassus a mortal insult. It is literally -” The Iron Tyrant paused, brow furrowing. “You’re a Dread Blaze?!”
Amity and Valdun, who’d both settled in to wait out the conversation, startled and stared at Scorio in shock.
“Yeah, I’m a Dread Blaze. Yesterday. You were saying?”
The Iron Tyrant’s eyes widened as he leaned his head back, his nostrils flaring as he encompassed the change in Scorio. “Remarkable. You only ascended to Flame Vault a couple of months ago.”
“Yes, I know. I was there.”
“Easy, lad,” said Amity, and Scorio felt his ire tamp down.
“Not unheard of, but remarkable. Well.” The Iron Tyrant collected himself. “This affirms my decision to seek you out, ignoble and improper as it is. You will die, either later today or early tomorrow. Even as a Dread Blaze you cannot hope to defeat Plassus. Even I would be hard pressed to last long against him.”