Davelos inhaled, misted, and raced through the fallen Ixithilion toward her.
Scorio tried to sit up. His body refused to obey. He felt warm, his innards watery. There wasn’t any pain. His Heart was still burning, but he knew it was about to die out. He didn’t relish how that’d feel.
“Jova?” he croaked.
“Here,” came a voice from the thick grass. “They hit… they hit hard.”
Scorio leaned his head back on the grass. Almost he closed his eyes, but then he forced himself to roll onto his side and slowly, oh so slowly, push himself up to sitting.
Evelyn and Davelos were tearing the last Ixithilion apart, but Evelyn was badly hurt; it had managed to stab her several times.
Jova sat up as well and looked past him; something about her expression caused him to turn.
Three more Ixithilions were emerging cautiously from the tree line.
“Oh come on,” said Scorio.
Jova laughed, coughed, and climbed to her feet. “Maybe in our next life. Pity though.”
“What? Our dying?”
Davelos killed the third Ixithilion, reeled back, and saw the reinforcements.
“No. That’s fine. My being reborn. Not knowing about you. Not learning this truth.” Blood ran from the corner of her mouth and she winced. “Being reborn… into ignorance.”
“Yeah.” Scorio felt his Heart burn down to its last final embers. “Pity. Been nice knowing you. Wish we could have… gotten more… time.”
Jova winced and stood tall. Scorio recalled Naomi’s warning a lifetime ago: Jova was tough against her own power level. Against much stronger foes? Even her resilient power would falter. She grimaced. “I thought we… like last time we met…”
“We what?” asked Scorio. The three Ixithilions screeched, high-pitched shrill sounds, and burst toward Davelos.
“You know.” Jova managed a wry smile. “The night you came to talk to me. We… I’m sorry, Scorio. I need to go help.” She shivered and broke into a run, heading toward Davelos.
Scorio wanted to rise. Wanted to help. It couldn’t end like this. Without meaning, without consequence.
He gritted his teeth but his body refused to obey. It was perforated by too many holes.
He sank back. Blinked furiously, refusing to let the darkness claim him. His Heart was almost extinguished.
Any second now.
He’d die as soon as he lost his scaled form’s strength.
Chapter 16
A vertical line of golden light appeared in the air. The line thickened, its radiance bright, then split apart to form a bright oval whose interior was frosted white.
Scorio had seen that before. Somewhere. Once.
A woman with glowing golden wings flew through, and with her came a sense of confidence, of calm, of control. Her hair was a blonde so pale it was nearly ivory, her skin alabaster and flawless, her gaze a washed-out blue. Only her lips added a touch of color to her whole appearance, for they were a startling red, sensual and full.
A relief so powerful washed over Scorio that he groaned.
The White Queen oriented on the three Ixithilions who ceased their keening and as one veered out wide to flee. She raised her hand. A white wand appeared in it, and she unleashed three bolts of white power that sped after each fiend and consumed it whole, momentarily causing its spindly form to glow as bright as the sun before it disappeared in a puff of ash.
Scorio fell back on the grass and stared up at the blue sky.
A moment later white light enveloped him. It was warm and comforting, like being wrapped in a great warm towel, in the arms of the mother he couldn’t remember, to momentarily have the White Queen’s full blessing and regard.
The pain disappeared, his wounds knit shut, the nausea evaporated, and his mind cleared.
Scorio leaped to his feet, disoriented by the influx of strength and vitality. He felt as rested as if he’d slept through the night on a full stomach. Jova’s wounds had closed, and with two blasts of her ferula the White Queen healed Davelos and Evelyn.
Golden wings outstretched, the Charnel Duchess lowered to the grassland and alighted. Her wings furled and disappeared.
Davelos and Evelyn both dropped to one knee and lowered their gazes to the grass. “Thank you, Charnel Duchess,” Davelos said, voice hushed with awe. “Thank you.”
Belatedly Scorio did the same, Jova having beaten him to it, and knelt beside the dead Ixithilion.
“Scorio.” The Charnel Duchess’s tone was one of mild surprise. “I had not thought to see you here.”
He risked a glance. She had moved to stand before him, the wind tugging her pale hair before her face, her regal poise utter and total.
“Charnel Duchess,” he managed, and for a moment he didn’t know what to say. His heart was pounding, his thoughts whirling. What kind of miracle was this? “Thank you. I had… resigned myself to returning to the Archspire.”
“Not yet, assuredly.” Was that humor in her voice? Her expression remained remote.
Davelos and Evelyn and risen to their feet, their expressions shocked. To be fair, they probably hadn’t expected him to be best friends with Nova.
Scorio managed a lopsided smile. “Not yet, by your mercy. In fact, we were heading to the Fiery Shoals. I had hoped to speak with you.”
Nova arched a pale brow. “Had you now?”
Probably best to remain kneeling. “Please excuse me for being forward, but I’d hoped to bring a matter of dire import to your attention.”
Nova’s pale gaze pierced him through and through. “A matter beyond the Council’s ability to handle?”
“Well, that’s part of the problem.” How forward could he be? How much could he assume? “Revolution is stalking Bastion’s streets. The people are rising up. I managed to convince the uprising’s leaders to give me ten days to speak with you before they redoubled their protests, which is why I asked Manticore to escort us out here… I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of a greater authority who might be able to help prevent terrible bloodshed.”
Nova’s expression grew troubled. “I’d heard there was friction, but open rebellion?”
Scorio grimaced. “I’d be happy to tell you everything I know at your convenience.”
“I see.” For a moment longer Nova considered him, her gaze as blank and overwhelming as the sun, and then she turned to regard the Dread Blazes. “You are part of Manticore’s leadership, are you not?”
“Yes, my lady,” said Davelos gravely. “Davelos, Dread Blaze, Class of 869.”
“Evelyn, my lady, Dread Blaze, of the same class.”
Davelos’s expression was grave. “We hadn’t expected the way to be so… perilous.”
“Indeed.” The Charnel Duchess considered the fallen fiends. “Each year less Great Souls defend the Plains. Each year fewer teams cleanse the ruins. Each year the fiends grow more plentiful and bold.”
“The Farmlands seemed… calm,” ventured Evelyn.
“They are. The Houses defend what is theirs. But there have been six incursions this year alone. Each repelled before they could penetrate deeply, but I had to intervene in four of them. This…” She turned to gaze at the Ixithilions once more. “Marks the third time that travelers have been attacked close to the Golden Circuit. And now by Ixithilions. Such an occurrence would have been unthinkable before the Gold mana quake out of the Lustrous Maria.”
Davelos hesitated then bowed his head. “We are, as always, eternally grateful for your vigilance.”
“Yes.” The Charnel Duchess turned to consider Scorio. “Would that it were not needed.”
Scorio, unsure, bowed his head. “Charnel Duchess, if I may be so bold, our companions, Emberlings all, were poisoned by… “
“Goldyolks,” said Evelyn quickly.
Nova raised her ferula and unleashed five blasts, one after the other. “They no longer suffer. Now, I would hear about this rebellion in greater detail. Would you all accompany me back to the Fiery Shoals?”
Davelos went to answer then checked himself and glanced at Scorio.