Chapter 71

Scorio awoke into a tomb of hammered copper. His breath echoed harshly within the stark confines, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and drinking in the faint, blood orange glow that seeped into the air from a rectangular hole in the ceiling.

So alien, that amber-red light. So unlike the pale, washed-out gold to which he’d grown accustomed.

One chance, he told himself, lying still upon the cold catafalque. No repeats on this run.

He hopped up smoothly to his feet and crouched. For a second his first memory returned to him: how he’d leaped several times to reach the opening, panic blossoming in his chest. How alien this had all been, how terrifying.

But things had changed.

Even without igniting his Heart, his body was now that of an Emberling; with a smooth, propulsive leap he soared out through the opening to land neatly just beyond it, and gaze once more at the great beam of luminous amber that split the darkness in the distance and rose to a great height before losing itself into darkness. It shone like the sun-wire, richly golden and pitiless, inhuman in its scale and without detail or depth.

Off to his sides, he saw his companions leap out of their respective tombs, each landing quietly and with poise; together they arose as one, converging as they walked toward the distant steps.

“Like a dream,” said Lianshi softly. “A half-forgotten nightmare.”

Leonis was already gathering his freed mane of hair back behind his head. “Feels all too real to me.”

Across the plain of feverish, apocalyptic bronze, past the closed tomb entrances, to the huge steps up which they climbed.

“Simple sidestep,” said Naomi, distending and growing into her Nightmare Lady form.

“We know.” Leonis bound his hair with a torn strip from his sleeve and then rolled his shoulders.

“Your hand?” asked Lianshi.

“Fine.” Scorio held the aching limb to his chest. The pain was all too real, but he put it from his mind.

“Then let’s go.” Naomi began to lope ahead, her gaunt frame hunched over, tail whipping sinuously behind her. “I’m eager to see how many we kill before we fall.”

They all broke into a jog, and with the smooth coordination earned from scores of attempts on the old Gauntlet, punched into the bright, choleric space between the huge walls, into that veil of burning light.

Scorio emerged on the far side into a dimly lit, low-ceilinged hallway. Without hesitation, he stepped aside, and a fraction of a second later a ponderous bolt ricocheted off the iron wall behind him.

The Nightmare Lady had done the same, and together they moved forward, turning to watch as Lianshi and Leonis emerged and avoided their bolts with ease.

Scorio pursed his lips and stared at the patch of dirt where Asha had died. There was no mark, no old bloodstains, nothing to indicate she’d died gasping there on the dirt. Reflexively he began sweeping Coal mana into his fractured Heart.

Wherever she was, he wished her luck.

“One room down,” said Leonis cheerfully. “Now, for the part I’ve been looking forward to.”

Scorio glanced about the rusted walls, the low ceiling, and then followed the Nightmare Lady to the far door. “I almost feel sorry for those little bastards.”

Scorio felt Leonis’s Heart ignite, a ghostly expansion of force that washed over him like an invisible tide. And with his Emberling senses now, that tide felt more complex, alive with detail he’d missed before as a Cinder. He didn’t have enough experience to read it, but the detail was there. Leonis extended his hand, and Nezzar materialized within his grip. Its hexagonal body and burning runes seemed more real than the room about them, and it pushed at Scorio’s senses as if it burned with a light he couldn’t yet see.

“Don’t feel sorry for them,” said Leonis, and smacked Nezzar’s ridged head into his palm. “We’ve a reckoning, those little killers and I. This time I’m no lowly Char.”

“Then by all means,” said Scorio, mock-bowing and extending his good hand. “Be the first to enter.”

“Gladly,” said Leonis, and wrenched the door open, ready to step through, only to be arrested when the Nightmare Lady took hold of his shoulder. “What?”

“Don’t make assumptions. I’ve never heard of rooms changing, but there’s always a first time.”

Leonis glowered and then gave a grudging nod. “Very well.”

Together, the pair of them faced the dark doorway and stepped through.

Lianshi met Scorio’s eyes, her own wide, her manner nervous, and they followed right after.

The room beyond was pitch dark but for the thirty, fist-sized circular holes clustered high above with their columns of dusty white light. As before, each column terminated in a perfect circle of illumination the size of a dinner plate, forming a compact island of light in an ocean of dark.

The sight caused the corner of Scorio’s mouth to twitch into a wry smile. He ignited his Heart, saw the translucent flames wreath his spider-cracked core, then sharpened his darkvision.

Immediately the impenetrable, velvety night became insubstantial, and with his Emberling’s widened field of vision, he quickly caught sight of the four fiends. Saw once more their great, bald heads with liver spots mottled across their scalps, ragged holes for noses, and wide, thick-lipped mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth. The four small fiends glared at them with eyes that were little more than beady black gems, and were already creeping toward them, two to a side.

“Hello, you sorry bastards,” rumbled Leonis, swinging Nezzar about with practiced ease that spoke to a lost lifetime of wielding the club. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

The four fiends paused, taken aback at being so easily detected, and then rushed at them, fangs bared.

And Leonis moved to engage them all.

Nezzar swung through the air in a terrible arc that shattered limbs, sheared through the upper portions of skulls, and crushed all that it touched. Three swings were all it took. Three mighty swings that destroyed the fiends as if they were paper constructions, their bones seemingly as delicate as dried twigs, their black blood spattering in great waves across the floor and walls.

“Damn,” said Lianshi.

Leonis came to a stop, Nezzar extended out to one side, blood sluicing off it as if repelled by the stone, so that almost immediately it was immaculately clean once more, the searing trails left by the burning runes in the dark fading from Scorio’s vision slowly.

“Good work,” said the Nightmare Lady, moving forward with purpose.

Leonis grunted and stared at the crumpled bodies with a complex expression. “I’m the damned Golden King, Wielder of Nezzar, Leonis the Grim—and you better believe I’m going to show this Gauntlet and my ancestors both what I’m made of.” He paused as he drew himself up. “I’ve spent all this time replaying that fight. My death. In my mind it loomed large, but now…?”

“Revenge is never wholly satisfying, my father used to say.” The Nightmare Lady reached the far door and turned back. “But it does have a certain savor. Enjoy it, then put it from your mind. The next chamber is potentially lethal.”

“Potentially?” Lianshi pushed off the iron wall with obvious reluctance. “It was plenty lethal to me the last time.”

“But you’re an Emberling now,” said the Nightmare Lady. “That makes all the difference.”

Together they crossed the chamber, passing through the island of burning white light, and paused before the door.

“One second,” said Scorio. His Heart had burned itself out. “Need to gather some more mana.”

“Take your time,” said Leonis, propping Nezzar upon his shoulder. “We’re in no rush.”

Still, the pause rankled, so Scorio set to refilling his reservoir as quickly as he could. Swept great waves of Coal into his reservoir, packed it in deep, and only when he felt close to saturation did he nod.

One by one they passed into the next chamber. That short, irregularly illuminated hallway ending some twenty yards away in a blank wall. Where Lianshi had died, slashed to ribbons, to bleed out and leave him alone.

Scorio glanced sidelong at Lianshi. She stood, pale-faced, shoulders squared, jaw clenched. Impulsively he reached out with his good hand and took hold of hers, gave it a squeeze. She startled, smiled at him, then turned back to the hall.

The same path of fine gravel led from their door through the six bands of alternating light and darkness. Each band, Scorio now knew, was its own hurdle, the site of exploding blades. Across from them a pair of steps rose to a landing. The illumination was stark, forming six glowing outlines of nested trapezoids.

“Speed and control,” said the Nightmare Lady, stepping down off the platform onto one of the stone shoulders. “Relax, as much as you can, and trust your instincts. Allow yourself to react. You can’t consciously prepare for where the blades will come from, but your Emberling body will guide you if you allow it. Trust it.”

“That’s exactly the kind of advice I hate,” said Leonis, stepping down onto the opposite shoulder. “Care to show us how it’s done?”

The Nightmare Lady’s tail curled, the blade pressing itself between her shoulder blades. “With pleasure. Watch and learn, children.”

“We’re all Emberlings now,” muttered Lianshi. “When is she going to drop the act?”

“When we surpass her, I guess,” said Scorio, but his answer was distracted; he watched, intently, as the Nightmare Lady crouched then burst forward at a run.

She passed the first series of incised whorls in the wall and the blades burst forth. To Scorio’s surprise, they weren’t nearly as blindingly fast as they’d been the first time; he saw them emerge, a horizontal slash and a rising oblique cut, and the Nightmare Lady leaped between them both with neat, clean skill.

And went right into the second. Again the blades flashed forth, and again she evaded them, twisting with admirable skill. She passed through the third, the fourth, the fifth with no difficulty, then paused to regain her balance. Faced the sixth and last set of blades, and with a sharp cry of defiance dove forth again, to slide just under the scything attack and emerge unharmed on the far side.

“Damn,” said Leonis. Nezzar faded from his grip, and he rubbed both his palms on his hips. “She makes it look easy.”

“Relax,” called Naomi, dropping her nightmarish form and allowing her Heart to gutter out. “Trust your instincts. Let your reflexes guide you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Leonis, lowering himself into a crouch. “I’m built for love, not this nimble nonsense.”

“Luck,” called Lianshi, and then Leonis took off, a lumbering run that propelled him right into the first set of blades. They burst forth, and Leonis let out a concerned cry as he contorted himself, hopped his feet up so the blades passed beneath him. Staggered as he landed on the far side and drew himself up short.

“One down,” he said, wiping at his brow.

Lianshi raised a clenched fist. “Good work!”

Again Leonis charged forward, and again the blades flashed forth. Had they really slowed down so much? The first time they’d been impossible to track, but now Scorio could watch them emerge with just enough warning to see how they’d slash forth.

Leonis could obviously see the same, and though he was far clumsier than the Nightmare Lady, he dodged them as best he could, avoiding any major wounds but suffering from some five or so lacerations by the time he reached the far end, one of which was worryingly deep across the side of his thigh.

“Damn it,” hissed the large man, tearing the lower half of one of his flowing pant legs away to form a tourniquet. “Damn it to hell.”

“Here I go!” Without further warning, Lianshi darted forth, her face a mask of barely controlled panic. Scorio felt her Heart ignite as she ran and could only marvel at her grace. Where the Nightmare Lady had been all lethal control, Lianshi was a leaf being wafted by a breeze, dancing between branches of a tree as it fell and touching none of them. Almost effortlessly she ran and leaped, past the first, the second, the third.

Scorio was grinning, admiring her poise and dexterity when her foot slipped as she emerged through the fourth. With a cry she flailed her arms, then plunged headfirst into the fifth set of blades, all control lost.

The great slashing filaments of metal flew forth, right at her sides and neck. Scorio felt the blood drain from his face, his stomach clench and knot, was about to cry out, when the blades slammed into Lianshi and knocked her to the side.

Leaving not a mark.

Terrified, she scrambled to her feet and rushed past the sixth set of blades as they burst out to slam into her again, knocking her away but again failing to cut her skin. With a cry, she collapsed beside Leonis, who immediately helped her rise.

“Nice power,” said the massive man as Scorio felt his panic subside.

“Thanks,” said Lianshi shakily. She rose, clawed her hair away from her face, then stared morosely at the dark incisions in the walls. “I hate this room.”

Naomi’s eyes narrowed. “You partial to the others?”

“You know what I mean,” said Lianshi irritably. “You ready, Scorio?”

“Yes. Here I come.” A deep breath. He held it, his heart pounding like a fist upon a skintight drum, and then exhaled. With a flex of his will, he ignited his Heart, felt his vitality and strength increase immeasurably, and then summoned his power. Black scales flowed over his arms, across his shoulders, and his form changed further, growing leaner, taller, more graceful and lethal.

For a second, he considered shredding the emerging blades with his white-tipped claws, but then discarded the idea.

Clutching his wounded arm to his chest he crouched, focused himself, and then ran forth.

The first set of blades flickered out, but he saw them coming, swayed aside, and raised his left leg so his foot wouldn’t be shorn off. The second forced him into a diving roll, and he came up at full speed, mostly in control, to hurl himself through the third, twisting to the side again as he leaped high, the blades whispering out in a crosscut beneath him.

He landed heavily, his balance made ungainly by his wounded arm, and lurched through the fourth. Not enough control; he saw the blades scything forth, but didn’t have the balance to evade them. With a cry of rage, he slammed his claws down and into the slender wires, mangling them and causing a great screech and shower of sparks to emerge from the incisions as he bent and crushed them out of shape.

To stand there, gasping, and stare at the ruined trap.

“That’s one way to do it,” said Leonis matter-of-factly.

“How did he move that fast?” Scorio heard Lianshi whisper.

“Stay focused.” Naomi was clearly unimpressed. “Two more to go. Gather yourself.”

Nodding, Scorio turned to the remaining traps. A deep breath. His Heart was about to gutter out. A crouch, then he burst forth again. Evaded the fourth set, ducking low, then threw himself into a dive that carried him between two horizontal slashes to come up in a roll next to his friends, turn, and slam his back against the far wall.

“Yes!” Leonis pumped his fist into the air. “Third room down, with only one wound dealt to the lumbering idiot.”

“You did amazingly well,” said Lianshi, bending down to scrutinize his wound. “Don’t denigrate yourself.”

“Everyone remember the plan for the next room?” asked Naomi, turning toward the door.

“Stay alive?” asked Scorio, catching his breath and straightening up. Once more he set to filling his Heart, and he could vaguely sense the others doing the same.

“That, yes,” said Naomi. “There was more to it, however.”

Lianshi squared up to the door. “I’m ready.”

“On my mark,” said Scorio, moving up beside Naomi who shifted back into her Nightmare Lady form. Leonis and Lianshi took the lead. “One. Two… three!”

The four of them broke into a run, bolting toward the door and pouring themselves into it to emerge in the far chamber. Scorio ignited his Heart as he burst through, felt the speed and strength pour into him, and redoubled his efforts.

He caught a flash of the porous gray walls, as if carved through the heart of a mass of ashen coral. The smooth wooden floor. Recessed lights in the ceiling above, providing ambient illumination.

The four of them sprinted forward, two abreast, and immediately the corridor began to slope downward, doing so far faster than it had with Scorio’s original wounded crawl. In a flash, they’d reached the midpoint, and the hallway tilted up to a forty-five-degree angle.

None of them slowed; Emberling power fueled their limbs, charged their bodies with burning might. They powered up the growing slope as the far edge rose the curving wall toward the distant door.

But the slope grew precipitous almost immediately; the sheer violence of its rising nearly pressed Scorio down upon its gleaming surface through centrifugal force. Leonis let out a cry of alarm as his feet went out from under him, and a second later Lianshi fell to all fours.

Immediately Scorio shifted into his scaled form and slammed his burning claws into the wooden floor. The Nightmare Lady did the same, further anchoring herself with her bladed tail. Lianshi slid down, trying to arrest her fall, feet connecting with Scorio’s scaled shoulders; Leonis did the same, a little less adroitly.

No encouragement needed to be yelled. Both of them gathered themselves then leaped off their companions, a final, desperate lunge for the door that had appeared above them as the floor swung up to meet its lower edge.

Scorio braced against Lianshi’s jump, but the pressure was slight; a second later he was climbing up, sinking his talons into the ground as he hauled himself up the near-vertical surface, the Nightmare Lady skittering up past him, the sharp nails of her feet digging in with equal efficacy as her talons, and together they hauled themselves through the black doorway, and into the next chamber.