“You were created? Fiends can be made by Great Soul power?”
“Not so easily, no.” Xandera smiled in amusement. “Acherzua’s essence must form the heart of the weaving. But thus did we come to be, and for centuries thereafter we took our charge seriously, and sought to kill all Great Souls who passed through our territory.”
“Up till you developed the Everqueen concept.”
“Correct.” Her expression became tinged with sadness. “We strayed from our true calling, and for that reason we have been punished. Once, Bravurn’s overtures would have been met with unremitting fire and destruction, but he found us all too pliable.”
“So you hunted us to defend Acherzua. Are other fiends that protective of her?”
Xandera shrugged a single, black shoulder. “I speak only for the blazeborn, though the Gurlocks were also traditionally her protectors. Any who tampered with the deep labyrinth aroused their ire. But the Gurlocks were slow, fixated, and uncaring of what took place on the surface. It was easy for us blazeborn to reason that we were the superior servants of Acherzua.”
“The deep labyrinth. That’s the complex with the glowing red lines? I thought your kind had created it.”
“No. The deep labyrinth predates the blazeborn.”
“Do you know who built it?”
Xandera shook her head. “The Gurlocks do not speak. Perhaps the Broglamins know, but they keep their own counsel.”
“The Broglamins?”
She smiled. “Your kind calls them the World Worms. Twice they have spoken with my kind, but only twice. Each time their prophecy came true.”
“The World Worms speak prophecies?” Scorio felt as if his head were spinning. “I’m sorry. There’s so much I don’t know.”
“Yet you act with such surety.” Her great tail slowly swept through the coals. “So you will keep my secret safe? Even if it ultimately leads to our revolt?”
“You can’t win.” Scorio felt dull remorse as he spoke. “You have three of these giants? Strong as they might be, they’re too few.”
“Perhaps.” She stirred a finger in circles through the coals. “But my intent was never to simply throw them at Bravurn’s forces. I am and have always been open to new opportunities.”
Scorio grimaced. “I’m not much of an investment. I’m slated to die later today.”
She arched a brow. “You are to be executed?”
“Scorio!” Alain’s low call was urgent. “We’re almost out of time!”
“I insulted a Charnel Duke, a powerful Great Soul. I challenged him to a duel to the death. He accepted.”
Xandera rose swiftly to loom over him once more. “That is… unfortunate. May I ask why?”
Scorio glanced back at the entrance. “He’s been broken by too many losses to the True Fiend that fights us in the Telurian Band. I wanted to rouse him from his self-pity. I went about it the wrong way. I’m just waiting for his summons to go fight in the caldera.”
Xandera’s burning eyes narrowed. “A Charnel Duke. A terrible foe. He will deprive you of mana, establish dominion.”
“You know about Charnel Dukes, of course.”
“We’ve studied our foes over the centuries.”
“Scorio!” Alain’s hiss was urgent. “Time to go!”
“If I survive I’ll return,” said Scorio, backing away.
Xandera hesitated, then seemed to reach a decision. “I will place a drudge in the caldera, and watch your duel through its senses. When you are in need of my help, direct heat in its direction. I will do what I can.”
Scorio stumbled to a stop. “You can help?”
“You must leave,” said Xandera. “Bravurn will slay you if he finds you here. But yes. I will do what I can. The caldera is and once was my seat of power. I am greatly diminished, but not completely. Find a way to signal the drudge, and I will help.”
Alain appeared and gestured urgently. Scorio side-skipped a few steps away from Xandera, loath to leave, then gave up on further conversation and raced after Alain.
Voices were echoing in the tunnel as they ran out the archway. Alain kneeled beside Xirix and pushed a pill into the man’s slack mouth, then sprinted away down the hall, Scorio at his heels.
A few turns later and they were racing down the long, sloping tunnel to the next spire.
They slowed eventually and Alain paused to bend over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. “That was cutting it close!”
“I’m sorry. It was hard to end that conversation.”
“Don’t apologize! It was fun. And to be honest, I personally wasn’t in much danger. I was concerned about you.”
“Thanks.” Scorio clapped the man on the shoulder. “I’d better get down to my chambers though. Wouldn’t want Plassus to think I’ve run away from the duel.”
“Right. I’ll take you straight there. Ah! What a pity. I really thought we were on the road to becoming best friends. You, me, possibly Naomi, though her - well. She’s a bit too murderous for my tastes.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” said Scorio wryly.
“It’s fine. I’ll find someone else in time. Ah, well.” Alain brightened. “But I feel like I did a pretty good job. Would you say our friendship reached a 7 out of 10?”
“Would have,” said Scorio, “if you hadn’t spied on me. That busted us down to a 4.”
Alain scowled. “You’re right. Bah, that was a cock up. It’s just so easy to listen in. I’m so curious, you know? And people never want to tell me their secrets, not directly. But no, I won’t do that again. I’ll be disciplined. I really will, this time.”
“Good man,” said Scorio. “That’s the spirit.”
“Alain the Stout Hearted,” said Alain, as if testing the name. “Alain the… Moral? Alain the… Principled? That doesn’t sound very sharp.”
“You’ll figure it out,” said Scorio, but his thoughts had already turned away.
Turned to Xandera’s promise, and what that might mean for his chances against Plassus.
Chapter 26
Scorio entered the caldera with an air of grim defiance. He’d been stared at the entire way there by disparate Great Souls, knots of whom drew back as if he’d developed a contagious disease.
The crowd clustered about the caldera’s mouth parted, and Scorio strode into the center. The balconies that lined the walls were crowded with curious faces, and Scorio took a moment to simply stare around at them all.
Most of those present met his stare, but quite a few averted their gazes.
Leonis and Lianshi were present, and to their credit they approached him openly.
“No sign of her,” said Lianshi.
“I understand. She’s hard to find when she wants to be hidden.”
Leonis looked helpless. “I tried to think of what advice I could offer but came up with only one thing. Die well.”
Scorio punched the big man lightly in the chest. “Thanks, Golden King.”
The tenor of the crowd’s muttering changed and Scorio turned to see Moira, Aezryna, and a stranger approaching, flanked by a dozen other impressive-looking Great Souls, the entirety of the retinue exuding power and dire authority.
Most of which was given off by the man walking beside Aezryna. He wore a blood-red robe so richly embroidered with gold brocade that it looked ceremonial, and a king’s ransom in gold necklaces. His dark skin was polished mahogany, lending a stark contrast to the ornate fabrics and metal, his hair a crown of tight spirals, a densely grown and cropped square beard that framed his face with natural grandeur.
Charoth.
“Scorio.” Charoth’s voice was a rich baritone, mild but clearly capable of rising to a battle-drowning roar. “Your duel has drawn me out of hiding. I wanted to see what manner of man dared challenge a Charnel Duke.”