There had to be some hundred people gathered in the chamber. Scorio saw numerous familiar faces. Praximar and Daemon. Octavia and Raugr. Crush and Sam, Leonis and Lianshi. There were scores of Manticore Great Souls, most of Hydra’s highest officials, along with the faces of Kraken’s elite.
Mana rose from incense sticks placed every few yards along the tables, releasing curlicues of Copper and Bronze into the air.
The air ached with tension.
Then Octavia stood.
Her voice burned with outrage and shock. “Druanna?”
The Pyre Lady by Scorio’s side smiled grimly. “Octavia.”
Praximar’s face was mottled with fury. “This… this is an outrage…”
“Druanna?” Octavia looked resplendent in a shimmering metallic gown of gold and emerald, her hair done up in regal style, her leonine beauty accentuated by striking make-up. “He told me you died!”
“I can explain!” Praximar raised his hands. “Everyone calm down, there’s an explanation for all of this!”
Down the length of one table, Great Souls began to rise to their feet. Scorio saw Spark and Pale, the Dread Blaze Galvon, the noble Cianus and by his side, the red-haired Ermina.
“Too late for explanations,” growled Scorio, flexing his white-hot talons. “Time to die, Praximar.”
Chapter 65
The air within the feasting hall began to roil as Shrouds popped up, mana was inhaled into scores of Hearts, and the tension grew so thick it was choking.
“Praximar!” Octavia’s cry cut through the growing voices. “You lied? You have held Druanna prisoner all this time?”
A nondescript young woman stepped up with great deliberation onto the table as she became the Shadow Petal, her black and white blades backswept, her burning crimson gaze locked on the Autocrator of House Hydra.
“I—this is all a misunderstanding,” stammered Praximar. “Let us deal with the escaped Red Lister and then convene tomorrow at the citadel—”
“Liar!” Octavia hammered her fist into the table with such force that the ancient boards and support struts shattered, breaking it in two. “You have exacted our Heart Oaths on false premises!”
“But that does not absolve you of your oaths.” Praximar was fading further back, passing Dameon, inserting himself into the knot of Hydra Great Souls. “You are still bound! You and yours cannot rise against us—you must appeal to the Iron Tyrant for justice.”
Octavia gestured for her forces to hold. “You’re correct. We’ll not rupture our Hearts here today, but hear me, Praximar. House Kraken will exact its vengeance for this deception.”
The Shadow Petal straightened. The flames that had begun to wreathe Spark flickered out and died. The other members of the House—including Ravenna, Scorio saw—glowered and stood down.
Raugr had also risen to his feet. The Autocrator of House Chimera was a brutal-looking man, scalp shorn, face like a cliff of granite, his brow shadowing his deeply recessed eyes. “House Chimera will have no part of this.” His voice was rough with authority. “Chimera, we leave now.”
“I, however, swore no oath.” Druanna’s soft voice cut through the hubbub. “Let me remind you all why I was once so greatly feared.”
“Druanna,” called out Galvon by way of warning, but she ignored him.
Scorio had seen Simeon imitate her power back at the Fiery Shoals, but as her true eidolon formed, he realized that had been but a pale simulacrum.
The being that manifested at the front of the feasting hall rose some six yards in height, its head nearly brushing the rafters. Its body was made of smooth, polished jet, utterly black except where blue light seemed to reflect off its curvature. Six arms spread out about it, each clutching a scimitar as long as Scorio was tall, and it filled the feasting hall with an unnatural chill, vapor sizzling off its skin.
“Oh great,” said Dameon. “Manticore? Ignore the construct. We have to drop Druanna—”
He got no further.
The feasting hall exploded into madness.
The eidolon surged up the hall, running between the two long tables, three of its scimitars slashing down to behead and bisect the Great Souls on the left who threw up Shrouds, activated their abilities, and otherwise sought to defend themselves.
Druanna followed after, assuming her own six-armed form, and leaped atop the left table to run down its length, just behind the chaos left by her eidolon, hewing and parrying the Great Souls who turned in shock to deal with her.
Jova tore a flagstone from the floor, shattered it into a dozen chunks, and flung them into the crowd.
Nox’s whole body began to burn with black flames as if he were a Great Soul Heart, and he flicked out his tongue to catch a flying Great Soul between the shoulder blades and haul her down into his gullet.
Naomi’s shadows began to thicken as segmented, bony tails arose, bladed tips slashing and whipping about.
But though Kraken and Chimera had removed themselves from the fight, and even now were filing reluctantly out of a side door, that still left some fifty enemy Great Souls with which to do battle.
A potent mix of Tomb Sparks, Flame Vaults, and even a few Dread Blazes.
All of whom unleashed their attacks in response.
The air around the eidolon exploded in a welter of ranged attacks: flashes of bright burning light, cones of flame, spears of shadow, and rapid-fire blasts of eerie blue motes.
None of them had any effect.
But Scorio couldn’t take in what was happening at large any longer; he raced along the front of Kraken’s table on the right. For a brief moment, he caught sight of Ravenna, met her anguished, bewildered gaze, and then she was gone, out the side door—and then something akin to a wall appeared out of nowhere and slammed into him.
Scorio got his Shroud up just in time but was still lifted off the ground and hurled over Kraken’s table. A tureen of yellow cream soup slopped all over his legs, plates and cups crashed down about him, but he scrambled up to his feet and ran on, along the wall, the blow having done little to actually harm him. He pushed past the Kraken House members who reared back in alarm.
Rocks shattered against walls. The air filled with blinding brilliance then went pitch dark, then resolved itself into columns of shadows that gradated into pools of light. Bony tails whipped about, while in the air rotated a dozen weapons, each flickering and flying forth as if wielded by invisible fists.
The air was barren of all mana. The incense sticks had been drawn on so violently that they were snuffed out.
Somewhere Druanna was laughing.
A glowing green beast emerged from the wall just ahead of Scorio, a mass of lashing tentacles and a bizarre, bucket-like head. Scorio vaulted back over the table into the center of the room to avoid it only to nearly run into an older man in Hydra robes.
Their eyes met and Scorio froze, his every muscle seizing up, only for the man to be blasted in the side of the head by a block of stone and knocked off his feet.
Freed, Scorio leaped over the body only to skid to a stop and back up before a lumbering sandstone statue came his way, almost as tall as it was wide.
He’d fought this guy before. An Academy student from his year. He’d joined House Hydra. Scorio hit him with his aura of command: STOP!
The sandstone golem did so, jerking to a halt, and Scorio extruded his wings and leaped up with a great flap to swing his talons through the golem’s head, wrecking it so absolutely that chunks of rock flew in every direction. The very power of the swing caused Scorio to revolve mid-air, his wings furling about him, and then he drew them back in and fell into a crouch beyond the toppling golem, only to see Crush neatly leap the head table and land before him.
She rose to her full height. As powerfully muscled as ever, she studied him, eyes gleaming, and punched one fist into the other palm.