Chapter Three Hundred And Ninety Seven – 397Zara raced through the lower Wards, riding a wave of her own power across chasms and ledges as she circumvented the simple stairs and switchback trails around her. Her Mind blazed, working ahead of the problem as she advanced, chewing over what she had seen down below.
Isla's base had been violated, but not by the Urge's lackeys or the Council guards. By Paladins. She killed them all, of course, but not before extracting what little they knew of events. Of the sacrifice that the High Justiciar was facilitating, at the behest of the Council.
The fools. Short-sighted fools!
The Pathless' Orders did not help other nations, let alone one's reigned over by a powerful Urge. It was clear now what was happening, the rounding up of the miners and their transport to the higher layers. She hadn't yet found her sister of the Cantus, but that concern took second place to the fact that Felix and his people were meeting with the Council right at that very moment. Isla may have been in trouble, but her first priority was keeping Felix alive. No matter what.
The cloying darkness of the shadowed layers faded gradually, Ward by Ward as she ascended the City of Embers. Yet even as Zara burst through the final stretch, her wave of Mana at her heels, it was to a curiously empty plaza. Night had descended, but it was still early evening the Risen Ward was a center of trade and stunning wealth. She would have expected couples and individuals out and about.
The Temples...
The night sky was lit in only that direction, where the darkened vault of the heavens was braised with red-orange light from soaring towers. Zara focused, folding her Intent into the dual stats of Perception and Affinity...and heard a multitude struggling in that direction, but far less than she imagined. Moreover, she could sense people in their homes behind locked doors and barred shutters, while a chord of fear and anxiety rippled the air.
The Yttin and other miners are being held at the Temples...and so are Evie and Vess, she confirmed with a tight grimace. Though she no longer had a Mark on any of them, the sound of their Spirits was unmistakable. Atar and Alister are likely with them as well. But what of the rest?
Before she could check, a streak of blinding fire cut across the stars. A man, his Body blazing, hurtled from the far edge of the city toward the low shape of the Council Rotunda.
Grandmaster Kel'lyv. Zara had buried her questing Intent under layers of concealment the moment she'd sensed the man, but watched him warily. There was little knowing the extent of the power of a Grandmaster, even ifas she suspectedthis one derived the majority of his power from an Urge. What was he doing over there?
Quietly and with far more exacting care, Zara sped along the shadowed streets and narrow alleys between estates. Her senses had caught several things before she'd hidden them away, first among them the danger posed to their weaker followers. She stopped, a full block away, and sucked in a tight breath.
Avet's blackened eyes.
The estate they had been held in was on lockdown. A veritable army of Temple Knights were outside the heavy gates, while every wall bristled with archers with arrows trained on the soldiers of the Fiend's Claw. Even limited, her senses could pick out Darius and Harn among all of them, just as she could tell that no one had been hurt. Yet.
The sound of boots hitting the smooth pavestones came to her only a moment later, followed swiftly by the labored breathing and tumultuous Spirit of a familiar face. Zara pressed herself against the brick wall, and thanked her god for the darkness of his chorister's robes. Fiammetta had zero time to resist when the chanter flowed out of the shadows, stiletto pressed to her freckled neck.
"If you scream or otherwise alert your dogs, I will encase your soul in an ice so deep, no Urge could set you free," she whispered.
The Faun trembled, but offered no resistance as Zara walked the both of them further into the night's gloom. Zara considered her charred attire and frazzled hair, as well as the panic and guilt that sang from the girl.
"Tell me, Disciple. What has become of my people? Where is Veil?"
Drip.
Drip.
The sound was loud in his ears. Each rippling impact like a bomb going off. Felix twitched, shuddered.
Drip.
Images and memories spun behind closed eyelids. Of burning, colossal strikes and barefisted blows that broke bones and rent his organs. He stood, amid the sky as a blazing star descended upon him and scorched the skin and scales from his body.
"Wake up"
"AH!" Felix shouted, his Body surging to his feet and sending a small tidal wave of water in every direction. Everything blazed in a pain that turned his stupor into miserable awareness. He blinked, his vision hazy and unfocused for a moment, practically unable to see in the darkness. Spots of brilliant light were seared into his eyes in jagged lines and splotchy orbs. "Whowho is it? Who's ththere?"
No one answered.
Manasight!
For the first time in a long while, Felix had to consciously flare his Manasight. His core responded, sluggish and limping, but power fed into it and then up into the bundle of sensations that encompassed his Perception. It hurt, a thousand burning knives in his skull as it activated. It was a roar of jagged, incoherent soun in his ears, but his surroundings were revealed.
Earth and shadow Mana abounded, outlining craggy grey rocks and a dark chasm that extended upward for hundreds of feet, and in a jagged path many times further forward and behind him. Around him, wisps of wood and stone were less solid and rigid, cast about as if a plane had crash landed in the area. He quickly picked out the remains of hovels and lean-tos, scraps of cloth, and the occasional abandoned pick-axe. And, most notably, the entire area was filled with knee-deep, ice-cold water.
"Water?" He moved his foot, splashing it a little.
"It came with you, Winged One," said a voice. The same voice that had spoken earlier.
"Who said that?" he asked.
A figure resolved out of the water and detritus. It was covered in blue-ish bandages and had eyes that glowed copper in the dark.
"A Yttin. What are you doing here?"
"I live here," the Yttin said, his voice edged by a heavy clicking noise. "There...ah, but it once was up there," the woman said, pointing back a ways. "Until you and the miracle arrived, Winged One."
"Miracle? Wait, Winged One? Why?" Before he could finish the question, he realized wings extended from his back in a mass of bloodied feathers and torn muscles. Spots were scoured and ground away, with char edging many of the feathers, as if something hadthe storm.
It flashed across his Mind, a too perfect memory of dodged lightning and devoured earth Mana. Agony chased hot on its heels, a molten hot torment that crazed his Body, Mind, and Spirit. Pit had thrown up his own wings from Felix's back, shielding him errant blasts and winds that cut like knives. Of desperately crashing through a wall of Mana crystals to flee the relentless, unbeatable storm. Trying to eat them, ripping them free of their hardened shells and into his core as he careened through...of so much water that even now his inner abyss seemed queasy. Felix reeled, his hands raw and pink with freshly healed skin...and his core space all but empty of Essence.
Pit? Pit are you okay? he sent. A quiet, whimpering confirmation met his senses, and Felix took a relieved breath despite the pain. Me too...I think. I feel...I can't say I feel great, but I'm alive.
His Health, Stamina, and Mana were mostly full, though his Health was lagging behind around seventy percent. His Sovereign of Flesh had done what it had needed to...but based on his Essence store, he simply lacked any more fuel to keep it running. Apparently he was stuck with his wings until he could take in some more...but the mere thought of it made his insides squirm. His Aspects were strained to the very edge of breaking, and his Body had taken the greatest abuse from that bastard of a Grandmaster. Felix touched his chest where his Garment was burnt through and his chest was filled with patchy, too-pink skin.
A splash and clatter sounded somewhere behind him. Distant, but smaller splashes moved closer. Felix's ears pricked and he winced at the sound, but he could make out a number of figures advancing toward him.
Theyre coming to rob you," the Yttin said, her voice full of fear. "Not many folks left, but these hid. They hid and they are so hungry. They will kill you, Winged One."
There were at least six, probably twice that, but any further specificity was beyond him. It didn't matter anyway. His everything hurt, and that wasn't gonna change soon, but Felix could handle a dozen bandits. He lifted his fists, ready to fight, but the small Yttin raised her blue-wrapped hands.
"No! Please! My brother is with them!" she said. "They're scared and hungry, but they'rethey're good people. Please." She practically sobbed when Felix turned his gaze back on her. "Please. So many were taken."
Blue light played off her face and chest, enough to tell him that his eyes were burning once again. "Taken by who?" he growled.
"Humans. Not the normal guards, but dressed in golden flames."
"Those fuckers," Felix said. A fissure of agony opened within his Mind, but his anger held it together with staples and super glue. He recalled exactly what the Paladins and Masters had said about Yttin and miners. "The Temple took them." He heard the Yttin gasp, but he couldn't give her his attention anymore. Everything was on the pain. "Your brother had the right idea. Run and hide. The flame is looking to burn everyone up."
"My family was taken!"
Felix took a deep, steadying breath. Then he heard it. A sound in the distance, soft and enticing. It resonated with something deep inside of him, drawing him onward. Words tumbled from his brain to his mouth, inspired and unthinking.
"Do you know the Beastsworn tribe? Get out. Tell them that the Beast is coming. The world is gonna change and fast. Get everyone out of here. Hide away from the knights until the beast takes them all."
Felix wasn't sure if it was his bonuses to positive relations with the Yttin, but the woman didn't argue. The clicking sounds she made with he throat were fearful and awed. Without another word, she scurried off, back toward her brother.
Hopefully that gets them moving and out of the city.