Scorio felt his face flush. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“You called it a trick of yours,” said Himiko, tone flat.
“The trick lies in developing a large reservoir,” snapped Scorio, losing his patience at last. “Maybe you should have put more effort into developing your Heart.”
“Oh, damn,” said Nyrix, glancing between the two of them. “Did Scorio just tell the Shadow Petal she should have worked harder?”
“Enough.” Taron stepped into the group’s center. “We’re allies, not competitors. Well.” He paused, considering. “First and foremost we need to focus on being allies, even as we secretly struggle and compete against each other. Scorio, I want to commend your performance. You survived what I thought were insurmountable odds. Your Gold-tempered body allowed you to weather attacks that should have dropped you, and your absurd reservoir kept you in the game long after you should have guttered. Most impressive.”
Merideva was the only one who smiled broadly at Scorio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Everyone else simply scrutinized him.
“Less surprising but equally impressive was your performance, Himiko.” Taron inclined his head at her. “You were consistent, lethal, and unstoppable. I believe you accounted for all four deaths on the opposing team. As hard as this it is to believe, your reputation didn’t do you justice.”
Himiko nodded stiffly.
“Now, let’s review.” Taron crouched and drew an oval in the sand. “We’ll take this step by step and see how the fight played out. I’ve little constructive criticism to offer; you’re all incredibly dangerous and clearly possess the right set of murderous instincts. Still, the goal of this exercise was to familiarize you with each other’s abilities and limitations, and that’s what we’ll explore now.”
Everyone crowded around, and Scorio listened intently as Taron reviewed the fight. Penaela’s disturbing visage was cast in a perpetual frown as the Pyre Lord spoke of her vulnerability to her sun being destroyed; Rharvyn shook his head in good-natured exasperation at how quickly Himiko had cut through the dozen decoys that had sprung up around him.
“Wesanin, you spent a crucial amount of time curving back around through the enemy zone to return to the fight. You need to keep a tighter leash on your power to retain greater control.”
“It’s…” The orange-haired man clenched his jaw. “Hard to explain. But the temptation to expand, to draw on ever more power… it’s intoxicating. Beautiful. It’s as if I only make real sense to my own self if I expand as far as I can.”
“Even so. You drained about a third of the total mana in the arena by yourself. You need to remain mindful of sharing that resource with the others. Fiends can fight on in a mana-free environment. Our kind gutters within a minute if going all out.”
Wesanin frowned and nodded reluctantly.
Taron praised Nyrix’s shuttling of the Shadow Petal around the oval, but called out how he’d neglected his other teammates.
“Sorry. Galvon’s attack left my wits scrambled.” Nyrix grimaced. “I just latched on to getting Himiko where she needed to go.”
“At least I accomplished that much,” muttered Galvon.
Taron sat back on his heels as he finished the review. “This won’t be how we actually fight. In an actual battle you’ll be supported by the Flame Vaults and Tomb Sparks whose powers, while less penetrating and powerful, add a phenomenal amount of versatility and supportive fire. But it’s essential that you understand and intuit what the other nine can do. Penaela, Galvon, Wesanin, Ursan and I will work together to shape the enemy’s movements to our advantage. Himiko, Fyrona, Merideva, and Scorio will destroy all that we funnel at them, even as Rharvyn collapses their numerical advantage and Nyrix ensures none of us are caught flat-footed or overwhelmed.”
Taron glanced about their group. Everybody nodded their understanding.
“I’m going to take a day to parse how best to assign our Flame Vaults and Tomb Sparks. Most of the ranged attackers from the lower ranks will remain behind with Rharvyn to provide support, but those who specialize on battle control and close-quarters combat will be assigned to the most appropriate Dread Blazes. Once we’ve got our formation figured out, I’m going to sign us up for a harvesting.” Taron paused, glanced at the newest arrivals. “That’s when companies are sent out to keep local fiend numbers low. The Bronze-ranked fiends can’t seem to resist coming at us, even when we’re almost a thousand strong. Makes for excellent practice.”
Taron stood and wiped his notations away with his foot. “I’m going to observe the other two groups. Hang around and watch. The more you learn about the company the better.”
And with that the Pyre Lord strode toward the ten or so Flame Vaults who stood in a circle listening to one of their number. Naomi looked ready to walk away, arms crossed, shoulders hunched, hair hanging curtain-like before her face. The perfect picture of sullen resentment. Scorio couldn’t help but smile.
“Hey.” Fyrona had stepped in close again, but her tone had softened. “Look, I’m sorry. For snapping at you. I’m…” She blew out her cheeks and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length white hair. “It’s not your problem, but I was just… surprised. Upset. That you took a full blast from my eyes without losing your leg. So. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, not a problem. I’ve been told far too many times to count how annoying I can be. It’s reassuring to see I’m continuing the habit.”
Merideva stepped up to join them. “Very impressive, Scorio. I’m going to have to kidnap you at some point to learn if all the rumors about you are true.”
“The worst ones probably are.” Scorio grinned. “Hopefully, I’ll do something in this war to help offset them.”
Fyrona was frowning at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re… strange. I don’t mean that as an insult. Just… in the fight, you were… terrifying. Unstoppable. Now?” Fyrona shook her head in bemusement. “You’re as modest as a newly ascended Emberling.”
“Well, I guess that makes sense. I only reached Dread Blaze a week ago. Was it a week?” Scorio paused, calculating. “And Flame Vault a couple of months before that.”
“You’re serious?” Fyrona’s stare became incredulous once more. “You were a Tomb Spark just over two months ago?”
Scorio winced. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
“Seriously,” smiled Merideva. “Let’s grab a cup of bastrudo coffee after training. I’d love to hear more about your time in the Crucible.”
Fyrona rolled her eyes. “He’s just arrived, Merideva. Can you keep it in your pants for a couple of days more?”
Merideva’s look remained direct, her smile subtle. “Nothing wrong with becoming friends. Look me up later, alright?” And she walked away.
“Bastrudo coffee?” asked Scorio weakly.
Fyrona scowled. “From the Silver Unfathom. There’s a fiend there that consumes rocks to help it digest or something, and those rocks break down to Silver mana-infused pebbles that are mixed with coffee. It’s ridiculously expensive.”
Merideva had joined Rharvyn and Wesanin to watch the Tomb Sparks spar. She laughed, flipped her long brown hair back, and placed her hands on her hips. Poised, confident, beautiful, it felt almost surreal to think she’d invited him to hang out.
“It’s none of my business,” said Fyrona, tone salty, “but Merideva is very free with her… affections. Don’t read too much into it. She really, really believes in living in the moment.”
Scorio blushed. “She said it was just coffee.”
“Sure. Hell, we might all be dead within the week. Guess I can’t blame her. But let’s spar before then. We’re both durable enough to take some knocks without needing the Temporal Obelisks. What do you say?”
Scorio hesitated.
“I have a handful of Vitality Pearls.” Fyrona smirked. “We’ll be fine.”