“I’m happy for you,” said Scorio. “Seriously. I’m glad you’re getting out. Good luck with everything. Stay safe.”
“In Deep Hell?” Ravenna snorted. “Unlikely. See you both around, then.”
And with a raised hand she turned and slid back into the crowd.
“Working for Moira?” Naomi scoffed. “Could that make her less trustworthy?”
“Out of every Pyre Lord and Lady I’ve dealt with, Druanna and Moira proved to be the most reliable.” Scorio grinned ruefully. “Not saying that I trust her, but in this case, she played things straight. I don’t count her an enemy.”
“Shows how much you’ve learned.”
Together they walked until they found themselves back in the ruins. Neither spoke a word. If anyone pressed too close they both stopped and stared until the person, be it Great Soul or guard or passerby—backed away.
The sun-wire darkened to Second Clay, the last most lurid of its radiant cycles, to bathe the city in bronze and rust. Together they walked the abandoned streets between hollow houses till at last, they reached the base of Naomi’s old tower, the edifice in which she’d lived till Scorio had stumbled into her life, and again, without a word, they ascended its dark stairwell till they reached her room.
They entered it in silence. The evening rain showers and the prowling of fiends had served to give it all an air of abandon; the large, sunken bed was dusty and had served as a nest for something not too long ago; Naomi’s belongings were picked through, many scattered onto the floor, and her chest of drawers toppled over and smashed.
Naomi didn’t seem to care. She picked her way through the debris and stepped out onto her balcony, where the tattered remnants of her white curtains yet blew out softly like the reaching hands of a ghost.
Together they sat and stared out over the city. Scorio frowned at the ruin’s leading edge; the stone rot had accelerated in the two years he’d been gone and claimed another block of the once viable city.
Tendrils of mist were already curling up to spiral around the sun-wire. All around the city, above and to the sides, Scorio could see people hurrying home, getting ready for the storm.
They sat in silence.
Naomi had her knees up under her chin, her thick curtain of black hair hanging before her face, her chin resting on her hands. Finally, she glanced sidelong at him.
“How exactly did we survive all that?”
Scorio stretched and grinned. “Sheer talent, I think.”
She snorted. “If only. More like impossibly persistent luck.”
“I’ll take some of that any day.” He relaxed out of his stretch. “But yeah. Hard to believe we’re sitting here with nobody hunting for us.”
“That we know of.”
“Fair.”
A comfortable silence fell between them again.
Far below a giant nautilus floated along the Coal mana winds, its tentacles reaching forth, its great shell painted in fantastic stripes.
“So what are we going to do?”
Scorio considered. “We’ve got offers.”
“You know what I think of them.”
“I’m curious as to what Vermina’s thinking.”
“That marks her as more dangerous than the other two. She knows that predators pursue that which retreats from them.”
Scorio laughed. “True. She made me curious. But I think I’m just too worn out to get mixed up with anybody now. All of this… all the blood and loss, the pain and vengeance… it’s made me tired of people.”
She eyed him. “Was that a hint?”
“You’re not people. You’re the Nightmare Lady.”
Her tone grew dangerous. “Is that right?” Her form began to change as her Heart Ignited.
“Peace!” He laughed again. “I’m just yanking your terrifyingly sharp tail.”
“Hmm.” She subsided, reverting to her human form. “So we go it alone?”
“I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“I wouldn’t.” She curled her dark hair behind one ear, the gesture surprisingly delicate. “But those Charnel Dukes were right about one thing: answers will be found amongst the other Great Souls. If we go it alone, it’ll be us and the fiends.”
“In Acherzua.” Scorio considered. “How does one get into the Iron Weald, anyways?”
“You march to the end of a valley, like the one that housed the Chasm. Then you scale the mountains. There’s a large drop on the far side, goes all the way around the Plains, like the one beyond the Rain Wall. If you can get down that cliff, you’re in the Iron Weald.”
“And what’s that like?”
“Nothing like the Farmlands, that’s for sure.” She smiled cruelly at him. “You’ll have to grow used to hardship.”
“Not a problem. I think we both have Dameon to thank for that one. And then beyond the Weald is the Telurian Band?”
“And the Blood Ox.”
“He can’t control the whole Band. It wraps all the way around Hell.”
“True. We could cross quickly, perhaps, and enter the Silver Unfathom. That’s as far as we could go before the Curse caught up with us.”
Scorio rubbed at his jaw. “What’s in the Unfathom?”
“The Red Keep, if you’re asking about Great Souls.”
“Who rules the Red Keep?”
“One way to find out. That what you want to do?”
Scorio frowned and gazed back out over Bastion. The tendrils of mist had thickened into thick corkscrewing bands. The blue skies of the Rascor Plains were distant wedges.
He leaned over and pulled Praximar’s note from his pocket. “I was thinking we could pass by LastRock. See if we can’t find this Lost Library.”
Naomi had read the note several times, but still she took it and studied the faded letters. “Of course the old bastard was once one of the Herdsmen. Do you think he meant during this life or a past one?”
“I’d guess a past one. Otherwise, he would probably have a means to contact them.”
Naomi handed the note back. “So we just slip past the Blood Ox, somehow find this Lost Library, read up on the Herdsmen, and then go our merry way?”
“I don’t think you’ve ever gone anywhere merrily.”
Naomi slit her eyes.
“But yes,” Scorio continued hurriedly. “Something along those lines. I’m not saying we have to avoid everyone as we journey south. But I like the idea of being beholden to only ourselves. For our sole mandate to be a quest to discover the truth. I wish Nox had stuck around so he could join us, but something tells me we’ll be seeing more of him. He’s proof at any rate that there’s far more to the fiends than we’re led to believe. And while I’ve no doubt that the Blood Ox is a foe, I’m sure there’s far more to Hell than just war.”
Naomi was listening intently, cheek on her knee, arms wrapped around her shins.
He smiled at her. “What do you think? Shall we head out alone? See how far we get before we’re eaten by something incredibly weird and powerful?”
“That’s the most romantic proposition anyone’s ever made to me.”
Scorio arched a brow. “Romantic?”
She flushed and sat up. “It was a joke, Scorio. But regardless. Yes. Fine. You know how I feel about bending knee to lords and ladies. I wouldn’t mind learning more about these Herdsmen, but most importantly it would allow us to pursue our final vendetta without distraction.”
Scorio nodded slowly. “Dameon.”
“He’s out there somewhere. Probably fleeing across the Farmlands as we speak. We could try and catch him at the Fiery Shoals.”
“He might avoid it. Know we’d look for him there.”
“Regardless. We pursue that which retreats from us.”
Scorio felt the resolve harden within him. “Yes. It’s weird to seek to avenge Leonis and Lianshi, given that they’re here in the city with us, but yes. Dameon still needs to pay.”
“Then it’s settled.” Naomi rested her chin on her knees and gazed out once more over the ruins. “We’ll hunt Dameon down and take off his head. If possible, we’ll enter LastRock and seek to learn more about this mysterious group. Then we’ll see where that’s led us, and take it from there.”