“Well, then. It’s not often that we uncover artifacts from a previous age. I must admit I’m most curious.”
Scorio set the container on the table. “This was acquired through great effort and I regret to say great cost. Two of House Kraken’s Dread Blazes perished in the effort, and even Lady Druanna was injured. I wish I could have been of greater help, but…”
“All in due time, Scorio. You are yet but a Tomb Spark, and a storied one at that.”
Scorio opened the container and drew out the heavy gold cup. It radiated power.
“Ah, now there’s a pretty thing,” said Captain Thorne. His lieutenants leaned forward to examine it. “I was told it’s a portable Crucible, an endless source of Gold mana. To be honest, I can hardly credit it.”
“That’s what I was told by our leader, Dameon,” said Scorio. “He apparently has memories from his past lives, and in one of them saw the artifact used that way. Let me show you the activation sequence.”
Thorne smiled. “It’s good to see you again, lad. You look like you’ve profited from your time with Manticore; I thought you strong before, but now it looks like you’ve eaten nothing but shoe leather and fire since I last saw you.”
Scorio smiled ruefully. “They put me to work, that’s for sure. But I was asked by Dameon to, ah, give this to you with Manticore’s compliments. We’ve worked for over six or seven months to uncover it, and Dameon wishes the Iron Tyrant to know that he’s honored to have been the source of this treasure.”
“That so?” Thorne gave a grave nod. “I’ll make sure he learns. How is it used?”
Scorio took up the cup. “The gems are the key. Search for this dimple here, and pour mana into its gem first.” Scorio explained the rest of the code. “Upon completing it the cup will fill with Gold mana.”
“May I?” Thorne took the cup. “Please don’t take offense. But before I stake my name on this cup’s veracity, I’ll try it myself. A demonstration.”
“Of course,” said Scorio.
Thorne slid wisps of Iron into each sapphire, which lit up as if a flame had been kindled within.
One by one they lit, and with each the sense of the power in the cup grew. By the fifth gem the air was turgid with crackling tension and potential, as if a storm cloud were about to break.
Thorne hesitated then fed a final wisp of mana into the sixth gem.
The entire cup began to glow as if it had become molten. Thorne dropped it with a cry. It bounced on the table, rolled around and fell to the floor.
The air began to burn as the rippling tension broke and became a great storm, a mana vortex centered on the cup. Scorio felt his Heart spasm as if a hand had reached into his spiritual realm to claw at it.
Thorne snatched up the cup then dropped it once more, his palm burned bright red. Expression livid, face turning scarlet, spittle in the corners of his mouth, he rounded on Scorio.
“Scorio? What have you done?” His shout was almost lost behind the roar of the mana. “Blast your eyes, boy, what have you done?!”
Chapter 42
The cup was incandescent. Being close to it hurt, tore at the very fabric of Scorio’s being. It felt like his lungs were trying to burst their way up his throat. Gagging, Heart shuddering, every remaining drop of mana torn from its core, he staggered out of the parlor and onto the deck.
Chaos. A vortex arose through the forecastle’s roof, terrifying in its power and wildness, oscillating back and forth as it drained The Coffer’s shields, tore mana from every Great Soul on the deck, ripped Gold from the hold.
Men and women stood aghast, hands clutching their chests, eyes bulging, staring at the vortex. Some bellowed questions, others cried in alarm, while others dropped to their knees or fainted altogether.
Thorne emerged behind Scorio, reeling and with blood pouring from both nostrils and the corners of his eyes. He yelled a command, but Scorio couldn’t parse it. His mind was a haze of confusion and panic.
Reeling, he made his way to the railing and saw the House Kraken guards staring in horror.
Druanna was at their fore. Shoulders squared, chin raised, she radiated purpose and strength. Raised her arm and pointed at The Coffer.
“They’re trying to steal the Gold mana!” Her voice cracked like a whip. “House Kraken, seize The Coffer!”
Her command was roared with utter authority. The House Kraken Great Souls stared at each other in shock, at what was taking place upon the deck of The Coffer in incomprehension, and then chose to do the one thing that made sense: obey their Pyre Lady.
The vortex was already dying down. The air was completely scoured of mana. Scorio reached forth with his senses but what little fragments wafted in from outside were immediately drained by the desperate Great Souls on deck.
Up the esplanade, Ydrielle and the Manticore Flame Vaults were watching in avid fascination. Even as Scorio sighted them the Dread Blaze gave a command and they all leaped down to the dock.
Beyond them the House Hydra ship was stirring to life.
Kraken Great Souls surged against The Coffer’s cordon. The guards there hadn’t been as affected by the vortex and barked commands for the Kraken fighters to stand down.
Druanna raised both hands and raw power pulsed from her. The air shimmered and coalesced into a massive, six-armed humanoid figure, easily four yards in height and carved as if from one huge block of jet, a great scimitar in each fist.
The Coffer’s guards fell back in dismay as this eidolon approached.
“Druanna!” Scorio’s yell was lost in the bedlam. “What are you doing?”
The Coffer’s guards rallied around their captain, Meneleo, who split into a dozen mirror images of himself, all of which promptly caught fire. Another hurled a spear that grew in length the farther it flew, while a third sank into the ground and disappeared.
Druanna’s eidolon set to cutting them all down.
Thorne appeared at the railing beside Scorio, his chest heaving, his beard bloodied. “What? What is she—by every sordid hell…” The old Dread Blaze stared, dazed, then turned savagely on Scorio. “You backstabbing—”
The older man came at him. Without an ounce of mana, Thorne could but swing his fists.
“No,” shouted Scorio, raising his guard and gliding back. “I was used, I swear it, I don’t know what’s happening!”
Thorne cursed and turned back to his crew. “Prepare to be boarded! Break out all weapons! Gannek, get the shields back up! I don’t care how, drain every compression tank, but get them up!
The eidolon cut down the last of Meneleo’s burning copies. Hands emerged from the stone deck to clutch at its feet, but these it instantly severed with downward swipes of its curved blades.
House Kraken guards ran past it, overwhelming the last of the guards, then surged up the pier.
“Push off!” Thorne’s roar sounded thin, insubstantial over the cries and shouts. “Cut ropes, push off!”
Sailors raced to obey, but it was too late.
Scorio hesitated. He had to get to Druanna. He had to convince her to stop, or at the very least knock her out.
He wanted to laugh at the ludicrous hope. But what else could he do?
Everyone around him was moving clumsily as if half- drunk. Nobody was used to operating without mana. Whereas he’d been doing so for the past five or so months. Lithe as a cat he placed a hand on the polished railing, ready to leap over and drop the six yards to the pier.
The eidolon was bearing down on him, six Great Souls racing before it.
Cursing, Scorio took off at a sprint, racing along the inside of the railing toward the prow which jutted just over the esplanade proper. He darted around sailors, leaped over crates that were lashed to the deck, and threw himself into a forward roll when a black scimitar longer than he was tall came sweeping around to cut him in twain seemingly from the heavens themselves.