The Dread Blazes exchanged a glance. Naomi had come up warily behind him. Ydrielle brought her focus to bear, and this close Scorio felt her senses sweep over him.
“Hmm.”
“What?” asked Simeon.
“He’s almost there.” She took up a nut and cracked it in one fist. “Another month would see him totally cleansed.”
Simeon studied Scorio. “Then I think that’s close enough, don’t you?”
Ydrielle’s expression remained hard. “It’s not optimum. But it might be as close as we’ll get.”
“To be honest, I’m surprised you lasted this long. Both of you.” Simeon leaned over amiably so as to smile at Naomi. “Incredible willpower. I think I would have quit three weeks in. Everybody is incredibly impressed.”
Scorio didn’t understand. “Impressed? With what? We’ve been grubbing in the dirt while you all did real training.”
“Your resolve, Scorio.” Simeon’s tone was gentle. “You and Naomi have exceeded every wager. Nobody thought you would last this long. Work this hard. You barely look like the man I met. That Scorio was a child in comparison, healthy and radiant. The man before me? Frightening. You may not have been tempered by mana, but you’ve both been through a crucible of the soul. Incredible.”
Simeon’s words didn’t really make sense. Crucible of the soul? He’d just been shattering rocks. But that was fine. Because he’d said, “close enough.” That’s all Scorio had heard.
“So we can stop?”
“I’ll speak with Dameon.” Simeon stood up. “Right now, actually. Before he descends. Come on, both of you.”
Scorio felt like laughing, like falling to his knees. A wave of weakness washed over him and he exchanged an incredulous glance with Naomi. She looked equally stunned.
But they followed Simeon to the main hall and into its cool gloom. People were buzzing around, excited about something nobody had shared with them. Dameon was in the center of it all, leaning over a large map with Davelos.
“Dameon!” Simeon’s call was hale and confident. “If I can interrupt your war plan for a moment?”
Dameon glanced up, flicked his gaze to Scorio and Naomi, then smiled. “Of course. Do we need to talk in private?”
“Let’s,” agreed Simeon, and the four of them walked out behind the hall. Five months of wrestling every day upon the ground had worn away the grass to packed dirt; Scorio felt his stomach clench just from being in the space.
“Ydrielle thinks they’re ready,” said Simeon without preamble. “Not absolutely drained, but close enough that it would be cruelty to insist they keep working as they have. Scorio and Naomi are both eager to change things up. What do you say?”
Dameon rubbed his shaved chin and considered the pair of them. The blond Dread Blaze had gone from being merely the head of Manticore to the owner of Scorio’s hopes and dreams. Scorio’s heart pounded. His palms prickled. He couldn’t breathe. If Dameon demurred, demanded that he took up his sledgehammer once more, he’d walk, simply stride right out of the camp—
“Agreed,” said Dameon warmly. “By the ten hells and every True Fiend’s hidden name, you two have awed the whole camp. I’ve never seen the like.”
Scorio blinked.
“When I set you this task I thought we’d get a couple of weeks labor, you’d quit, and I’d release you. I’ve never heard of someone totally desaturating as you two have. People have tried, but to actually accomplish the task?” Dameon let out a low whistle. “What you’ve done these past five months goes beyond willpower. It’s… I’ve thought on it long and hard. It simply has to be part of your nature. Incredible. I thought you were both lost causes when I took you on, but damn, am I not pleased to have been proven so wrong.”
Naomi scowled. “Then why did you take us on in the first place?”
“Jova, mostly.” Dameon shrugged. “It seemed to be a package deal. I don’t think you appreciate how special she is. What she can do when she grows into her full power. With her as part of Manticore, we’re going to blow right past the Iron Weald, through the Telurian Band, and to where we belong, in the thick of things.” Dameon shook his head ruefully. “But I didn’t appreciate just how special you two were, either. I’ve never heard of you before, Naomi, and Scorio, with that wrecked Heart of yours? You should have been a cautionary tale for new classes for years to come. But damn, here you are, bodies nearly as clean as a newly incarnated Char. You ready to start going below?”
Scorio couldn’t help himself. He grinned. It felt like a dream. Visions of stones swirled in his head, the mound’s layout, the next targets, how long it would take to break through to the huge plinth in the core, where to strike it, how to break it into thirds, that wretched iron root that had ensnared half the remaining blocks, the…
“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m ready.”
Naomi dry swallowed and merely nodded.
“Excellent. And what perfect timing. We’ve finally located the treasure vault. Where that artifact is kept? Mostly by process of elimination and absolutely wretched experimentation. That whole segment of the complex looks to have collapsed down into the Emerald zone—and to still be locked away behind a ton of fallen rock. There’s no getting to it.”
“Then…” Scorio felt as if his wits were addled. He’d gone too long without having conversations like these. “Why are you so excited?”
“We reached out to House Kraken. Their Pyre Lady, Druanna, is en route. She should be here in a few weeks. With her abilities, we’ll be able to break through the obstacles and salvage the artifact. She’ll also keep the worst of the Emerald-ranked fiends at bay.”
Naomi snorted. “And she’s doing this for free?”
“Of course not. We’ve agreed to sell the artifact to House Kraken instead of opening it to the highest bidder.”
Simeon grinned and tugged at his earlobe. “Because they would have been the highest bidder, regardless.”
Dameon continued smoothly. “We’ll get all the treasure we need to lift Manticore up to the next tier, House Kraken gets the artifact, and everybody wins. We’ll finally be quit of the Chasm, and onto bigger and better things.” Dameon turned grave. “We’ve been here far too long already. Time is pouring through our fingers like grains of sand.”
“Wait,” said Scorio. “If this works… then we’ll be leaving in a few weeks?”
“Less than a month for sure,” said Dameon.
“Then…” He glanced at Naomi. “We’ll only have a few weeks to take advantage of the Chasm’s mana?”
“For now. But don’t worry, we’ll be getting plenty of treasure from this deal. You’ve shown us that you’re not afraid to work. Now show us you can focus sufficiently to heal your Heart. Start sealing up those cracks, and we’ll ply you with such powerful mana that you’ll be spinning in your sleep.” Dameon grinned. “The worst is behind you. Now? You get to soak in that sweet, sweet mana, and start tempering yourself anew with Bronze and Iron. You’ll be tougher, stronger, and far quicker than you would have been before. That and you’ll have built the best foundation possible for your eventual rise to Pyre Lord and Lady. None of the greats who go all the way tempered themselves with anything less than Iron or Bronze.”
Scorio gave a shaky laugh. “We’ll do it. No problem. We’ll get right to work.”
Simeon scrutinized him. “Actually, if I may, I suggest they have the day off. They look like corpses that haven’t realized that they died weeks ago.”
“No—” began Scorio, but Dameon nodded.
“Agreed. You look dazed, my friends. Just do nothing today. Eat when you’re hungry, sleep when you’re tired, and rest. Your bodies have done everything you’ve asked of them up till now, but soon it will be your mind and Heart’s turn. They need to be refreshed before we go below.”
Dameon stepped up and looped an arm around Scorio’s shoulders. “C’mon, both of you. When’s the last time you had some ale? Let’s grab a drink and tell everyone you’ve won through. I think a celebration is in order!”