“She’s become very impressed with herself,” said Leonis. “I’m surprised she hasn’t asked Ydrielle to ship in a mirror.”
“There’s nothing wrong with taking pride in your accomplishments,” snapped Zala.
“Or talking to your old friends,” said Leonis with a smile.
“She’s busy.” Zala shrugged. “We can’t help her with her training, and she’s got a lot to learn from the other Flame Vaults.”
“Hush, Leonis,” said Lianshi. “Not again.”
“Just saying.”
The seven Dread Blazes and Druanna emerged an hour later. They were focused and moved with purpose toward the shaft.
“We’re doing it now, everyone.” Dameon glanced around the gathered Manticore crew. “By my estimation, it shouldn’t take more than two hours. Once we’re down, all the Flame Vaults are to make their way to Bronze in case they’re needed. Tomb Sparks and Emberlings will remain in camp and guard the perimeter.” Dameon paused, his smile infectious. “This is it, everyone. The moment we’ve been building to. And with Pyre Lady Druanna by our side, I know we’ll be successful. I hope you’re all ready to celebrate tonight.”
A halfhearted cheer went up, but everyone was clearly too nervous to start celebrating already. The Dread Blazes and Druanna got into the cage. Scorio stared fixedly at their faces. Who would return?
He caught Simeon’s eye. The Dread Blaze was pale and focused. He was tugging on his earlobe, but when he met Scorio’s gaze he forced an encouraging smile.
The cage dropped and was gone.
Nobody left. They just stood there, watching the huge chain spindle unroll, the links disappearing into the shaft until at last the signal caused Valt to apply the break and then stop the descent altogether.
A moment later he was in the giant wheel. He pounded along at a run, respooling the chain at twice the speed.
“Come on,” said Scorio, punching Leonis lightly on the shoulder. “We’re on perimeter duty. Let’s not mess up the one time they’ve entrusted it to us.”
They walked the edge of town, gazing out at the thickly grown forest, the clanking sound of the chain a constant. It took three trips to lower all the Flame Vaults.
Everybody was on alert. Scorio found it hard to relax and kept consciously unclenching his fists. Right now, at this very moment, they were fighting below. Druanna with her invincible six-armed golem. The seven Dread Blazes with every power they had, fending off the outraged Gold-level fiends.
Yet the world was so quiet. The fleeting sun was descending toward the horizon, another miniature day cycle coming to an end.
“Watch the midnight zone,” Scorio called out unnecessarily to his friends, too nervous to restrain himself.
Night fell, darkened, and turned pitch black. Scorio activated his dark vision and ceaselessly swept the tree line, searching for threats. Hoots and cries sounded from deep in the forest. The rushing sound of the river feeding the waterfall’s muted roar seemed even louder in the dark.
Nothing attacked them.
The sky began to lighten. They continued pacing. The sun rose and sped up into the sky. Another day cycle. Scorio paced back and forth. He’d not had enough time. The thought hammered at him as he’d once done at the boulders. Not enough time. They’d close down camp once Druanna left with the artifact and strike back toward the Farmlands. The rumor was they were going to book passage on a full-sized whale ship into the Iron Weald, and there trade House Kraken’s payments for high-quality treasures.
Scorio’s chest was tight. How much would Manticore invest in him when they had over forty talented members all desiring special treatment? Why would they waste rare mana and treasure on bringing him back to the baseline when others could be sprinting toward distant goals?
The sun set again. Darkness became absolute. The howls and cries were closer.
“You think they can tell the Flame Vaults and Dread Blazes are gone?” whispered Leonis. “Other than Valt?”
“Possibly.” Lianshi and Naomi had paused beside them on their own patrol route.
“I was talking to Barbos,” said Leonis uneasily. “He said xallop packs can merge into a giant war pack. They can summon each other across impossibly wide distances.”
“Great,” said Naomi. “Let’s all sit around and tell each other horror stories like cute little children. Come on, Lianshi.”
They resumed their patrol, staring nervously into the forest. The howls were definitely more numerous. Closer? It was hard to be sure.
Dawn broke. They were coming up on four hours. Tension was slowly growing. Zala and Juniper took their patrol, so Scorio and Leonis retired to the hall for flagons of water and cold stew.
There was nothing to say. The atmosphere in the camp grew ever more charged. Each moment lasted forever. They tidied away their bowls and then joined the restless crowd beside the shaft.
Valt was dozing, hands laced behind his head, lying within the curve of the great wheel, the summoning wire wrapped around the toe of his boot.
Scorio stared at the lanky man. How could he sleep now?
The sun dipped down toward the horizon.
Dusk fell, brief and sudden, then became night.
“It’s been too long,” whispered Lianshi, who’d joined them. “What do we do if they don’t—”
Valt sat up suddenly with a laugh. “There it is!”
He immediately set to running within the wheel. Scorio couldn’t breathe. Were defeated Flame Vaults coming up with a report of utter loss? A victorious Dameon and Druanna?
The chain rose and rose, endless.
The darkness thickened. Scorpio sharpened his dark vision and watched the shaft.
The clanking of the cage became visible.
Everybody clustered in closer.
Then, suddenly, the cage was there.
Mavel and Tsing Ma were missing, along with Evelyn and Simeon.
Dameon stood in the center, a body in his arms.
Druanna.
Chapter 41
Everybody clamored and pressed forward, but Davelos barked for order and strode into the crowd, clearing the way so that Dameon could emerge from the cage, Druanna lying limply in his arms.
But for a smear of blood across her temple she appeared unhurt. Her braid hung down to the ground, and Scorio had to resist the urge to lift it onto her body.
Davelos raised his hands. “I know you have questions, but we have to see to the Pyre Lady. Stand back. Valt? Drop the cage. The Flame Vaults want up.”
Valt inclined his head and moved to the brake switch.
Ydrielle emerged looking drawn and exhausted. Never had Scorio seen the angles of her skull riding so close beneath the skin. She trailed after Davelos toward the hall, shoulders slumped, then turned to regard them all.
“The mission was a success.” Her voice was hoarse from shouting. “We acquired the font. Mavel and Tsing Ma fell in the battle. Simeon and Evelyn are badly hurt. They can’t be moved yet, but they should make full recoveries. The Pyre Lady…” She trailed off, gaze troubled, then shook her head and entered the hall, closing the door firmly behind them.
“By the ten hells,” said Leonis, passing his hand over his head. “What happened down there?”
“Whatever it was, it was bad,” said Lianshi. “For Druanna to have fallen?”
One of the Manticore Tomb Sparks, a hard woman called Ranna, glanced over in consternation. “Her construct’s invulnerable. She’s not.”
“You think she’d stay close to her construct,” said Scorio.
Ranna gave him a withering look. “Such wisdom.”
The chain descended in an endless rattle.
“By the gods,” said Leonis. “I did none of the fighting, yet I feel a powerful thirst. Anybody hide some ale in their quarters?”
“We should stay sharp.” Naomi glared at the closed door. “No telling what will be needed.”
“Let’s hope this doesn’t sour the deal,” said Sam from the far side of the sparse crowd.
Scorio scowled. “A Pyre Lady’s life is in danger and you’re worrying about the deal?”