A: Ch. 9.1

Chapter IX

“I need to see it.”

“Be patient.”

“How am I to do that? Even a fat slab of meat ready to be barbequed wasn’t enough to change him!”

“Aru—“

“No. I’m going this time.”

It was beautiful. Entrancing. Thrilling. He never tired of it. The organic nature of the chaos, yet the controlled and predictable course the flames took. Thousands of years he had watched it now, yet it never lost its magic. Magic, indeed.

Lazuris perched himself behind one of the smaller falls and gazed at the distorted dancing lights through the water. Curious how through the lens of flowing liquid, the destruction of an entire city seemed rather… droll.

The man curled his neck back ‘round the falls, his face falling slightly. It was a beautiful castle, and quite a shame to see it go. No one used wood so beautifully anymore. It was all marble, plaster, and steel. At least this glorious example of human architecture met a fitting end. Fire was the most honorable of deaths.

A sparkling ember danced away from the conflagration and zipped toward him.

“Did he find her?” Lazuris asked. He leapt lightly from his viewing spot to a set of slippery rocks below. The water burned away long before his feet touched down on it.

“He was distracted for a moment. He found the two,” answered a surprisingly deep female voice. It crackled and grumbled, like the burning embers of a fire. Or was that just an echo from the castle? Yet this voice did not resonate off the walls, nor was it drowned out by the falls. It was as distinct and pure as if spoken in an empty chapel.

“What did he do?” Lazuris asked. He watched the castle intently, his eyes fixed on the north tower. Smoke was pouring out from cracked windows and the faint glow of amber light penetrated the darkness.

“He wanted them. Nearly changed. The knight has infuriated him before, apparently. The fires have made him unstable.” The glittering moth landed on the tall man’s shoulder. A soft veil of steam clouded it as the moth’s wings singed the sputtering water from the waterfall away.

“And this is who he wants?” Lazuris asked. He was doubtful. He never got along with Lycaons. They were hot-headed and extremely rigid. Intelligent? To a point. It didn’t help that they had the libido of rabbit. Lazuris silently smirked at that comment. All they needed was a little cotton tail.

“Taerce is adamant about this,” the moth insisted.

“I suppose,” Lazuris said languidly. The Spirit had to be serious if he was turning to his… subordinates. And Lazuris had been so close the Southern Isles. It had been nearly four hundred years since he had visited. But his darling forced him to come back.

“Lazuris. Look.”

The man tilted his chin up, his eyes darting back to the castle. A small form had appeared at the cracked window. Lazuris leaned forward; it was a habit from staying on the lower lands for so long. His eyes were perfect at night.

It was the woman. He could sense from his Fire Friends that her door was blocked—which was quite intentional—so she was attempting her escape through the window. Her right hand appeared injured and the bandage she had wrapped around it was frayed and charred.

Lazuris could have predicted it as easily as the position of the stars each night. He groaned as the girl snagged her linen bandage on the shattered glass of the window. Desperate to escape, she tugged and tried to rip away. In a distressed state, she failed to realize how the backward force would adversely affect the already questionable stability of her feet.

Unsurprisingly, as the girl finally freed herself, her backward momentum knocked her away from the lip of stone she had been standing on. Her arms flailed and she grappled at empty air.

“Shall I—?”

“Wait,” the moth insisted, though even she appeared concerned.

 The guised princess began to tumble back, her arms flapping wildly as her hair streamed around her. Shame the girl concealed her true form with such unwavering attention to detail. If her hair had remained its ginger hue, the image would be perfect. A girl of flame falling into the falls.

Lazuris paused, his eyes narrowing as the Princess fell. “Is this Aru’mat’s plan?” he asked, lowering himself, ready to pounce. He thought it was the Lycaon? Why would he take that one?

“Wait!” hissed the voice from his shoulder.

Lazuris’ gaze fell down, following the trajectory that the girl was sure to take. She was falling between a pair of turrets. Jagged rocks and spires awaited her but—Ah. So that was his plan.

General Noden was at the bottom of one of the towers, balanced on a balcony, watching with fierce concentration at the alarming descent of the Princess. The Lycaon eased back, waited, and then leaped with rapid acceleration straight across the divide between the two towers.

The General snatched the girl out of the air before crashing through a window on the other side. It was perfect timing, especially given the hundreds of variables. The girl could easily have twisted away from her original path, causing her to be just out of reach at that moment, or the flames within the castle could have changed the pressure resulting in a massive explosion from breaking that window.

But Lazuris wouldn’t have allowed the latter, at least. That area was still free of his precious little Friends. For now.

“Velrin?” Lazuris inquired.

“Surprisingly, no.”

Curious. Perhaps this one would be suitable for fastidious Aru’mat.

“You told me that you took him to her. Why did you leave him before he got to the tower?” Lazuris asked, turning to glare softly at the little puff of flame on his shoulder.

“I said no such thing. Besides, we aren’t supposed to intervene unless we’re instructed to.”

“Think she survived that… rescue mission?”

“Did the Lycaon have any other option?”

“True,” Lazuris whispered. The force of his tackle would at minimum blow the wind out of her, at worst snap her neck, and most likely knocked her unconscious. Shame. He still had his big finale to perform.

A tickling sensation prickled along Lazuris’ arms. He knew it well; it was familiar and comforting. He closed his eyes and allowed the strings of his consciousness to be twisted and pulled. With vivid yet haphazard snippets, his precious flames gave him glimpses of the castle, the areas they had taken and where they were going.

“He’s going down,” Lazuris said curiously. He didn’t have to speak. His darling already knew. “She’s unconscious, as expected.”

Oh, how Lazuris reveled in that moment. The lightness of fire, how free and weightless it felt as it leapt from space to space. No constraints, not even from the laws of physics he had studied so long. Seeing as the flames saw, feeling as their fingers felt… it was the only time he felt like a Watcher. The twang of guilt and the latching grasp of remorse tugged at Lazuris’ heart.

“How long has it been, Karst?” he asked longingly.

“It’s not worth asking anymore. I am you, and you are me.”

The hairs on Lazuris’ arm began to burn away and he quickly returned his attention back to the tugging wires from his many Friends. It was almost like a spider’s web with hundreds of threads. Each of his flames held a thread and could tug at the strings to get his attention.

Some were more impatient than others, as demonstrated by his hair-free arms.

He followed the trails back through his mind. His Friends were chattering; the crackles of embers were now a harmonious symphony to Lazuris’ trained ear. The whispers, though complex, could easily be picked apart.

“Both the male and the female are in the prisoner’s cells,” Lazuris noted.

“Lazuris,” the moth called.

“These humans always take the strangest of routes. His only option is to leap into the falls. Well, he’s not human, is he? He acts like one.”

“Lazuris,” she repeated, urgently, this time.

“She’s waking, now. Just in time to see my friends devour the last of her castle. Look at this, Karst, all they can do is scream at each other! The floor is quite literally about to melt beneath their feet and they’re yelling like a pair of toddlers. I can’t even distinguish it. Is she angry that he saved her life?”

“LAZURIS!”

But that time, Lazuris didn’t need Karst calling him. A sharp, dagger-like pain streamed from his temples down to his chest. A piercing screech scratched at his ears and clawed deep into his mind. His breath caught in his throat and his toes went numb before his vision blurred in and out of focus with each painful throb of his heart.

Lazuris couldn’t stand it. He fell to one knee. His balance wavered and for a moment he wondered if even he would fall prey to the hungry beasts within the falls. However, his precious, his darling friend, saved him. She wouldn’t let him go.

The tall silver-haired man looked up at the landing several dozen feet above him. Fear, something very foreign to Lazuris, crippled him.

Aru’mat the Baleful had come to visit. 

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A: Ch. 8.2

Chaos. Nothing but purified chaos enveloped the once brilliant castle. Servants were running, women were screaming, and the flames engulfed every speck they could get their grubby hands on. And despite it all, a chill prickled down Hilt’s spine.

What could do this? The castle was treated wood that would not burn, and much of the architecture was in stone, and that certainly had no affinity for flame. His mind rejected any prospect of it, but magic and sorcery remained the only answer.

Hilt leaped out of the way as a large section of wall came crumbling down, leaving just the fingertips of a poor woman exposed. His stomach rolled (though not in an unpleasant way, he hated to admit) and the General tried to navigate the quickest path to Kya’s room with these new obstacles.

“I would suggest against that route,” called a sing-song voice.

Hilt growled as he tried to ignore the slim figure that walked calmly through the flames. His face wasn’t even flushed, and his breathing normal. Hilt, on the other hand, had singed eyebrows and lungs full of putrid sludge.

“I’m not one to take advice from strange men,” Hilt wheezed. “What would my mum think?”

“Oh, but we’re not strangers, are we? I’ve shown you my dearest. The only people who know of her are my friends.”

Hilt doubted that. Most likely this sorcerer killed anyone who saw this trick. He ignored the man and charged through the only opening he could find beneath a precarious archway. The instant Hilt rolled beneath it, it creaked and groaned before cascading down in a flurry of ivory and gold sparks.

“I warned you,” the stranger said. This time he was sitting upon the center throne at the far end of the room. Hilt hadn’t even realized he had gone into the ballroom. His mind felt foggy and dark clouds were creeping in on the edges of his vision.

“Damn,” Hilt whimpered, falling to one knee. This was a mistake. He should have gone the other way. It was a death sentence in here. If the flames didn’t incinerate him, the smoke would deprive him of air. His fingers tingled and his body felt light and effortless. His hearing wavered and the crash and crackle around him soon dissipated into magnificent silence. No, he wouldn’t pass out.

“You know how to survive this,” the wizard said. He was lying across the throne, with his feet draped across the arms. He had that same glass of wine back in his hand and he swirled it gently, like an expert connoisseur.

“I don’t need to,” Hilt responded. He pressed his hand on his knee, but couldn’t feel the force of it. His lungs clenched and rejected the newest wave of acrid vapors which swirled around him.

“So, you charged into the castle just to die a few strides in? That’s no fun.” The stranger waved his fingers and his pet darted away from him. Within moments, wafts of glorious, pure air washed over Hilt, giving his lungs a much needed respite.

Hilt managed to look up. The whole ceiling was caving in. Gaping holes revealed the shockingly clear sky of a thousand stars which mingled in the oddly beautiful light of the dancing embers. Molten rock dripped down alongside crumbling frames and beams above the General’s head. As it fell, it seemed to hit some invisible barrier, some sort of shield, before sliding down around it. In fact, the entire area surrounding both Hilt and his new ‘friend’ was untouched by the ravenous flames. The wooden floors were still cool to the touch and the air was now crisp and clear.

“So you weren’t sent to kill me?” Hilt asked, finally finding the strength to stand. In fact, the soft breeze seemed to rejuvenate him completely. The wound on the back of his head and the break in his nose even seemed soothed and refreshed.

“Surprisingly, no. Well, that’s a partial no. Or maybe even a yes.”

This stranger was incredibly aggravating. Hilt reached for the grip of his sword, only to immediately recoil. The steel was white hot and scalded his fingers the moment he touched it.

“It’s not particularly nice to bear arms when your opponent has none.”

As if that bloody bug wasn’t a weapon?

“Why aren’t you letting me burn, then?” Hilt asked.

“Because you aren’t supposed to.”

Hilt felt a growl form in the back of his throat. What the hell did that mean?

“I am to test you, while kill someone else. Who was it again?” The stranger looked into his wine, as if the burgundy liquid would answer his question. For a person with such unimaginable power he seemed… off.

“Test me how?”

“I don’t know. I was simply told to.”

“By whom?”

The silver-haired man reached his hand out as the little moth gently fluttered back to him. He raised it up to his face and a gentle smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t have time for this,” Hilt insisted, quickly scanning the room. “I have to—“

“Go save someone?” the man finished. “Don’t worry. She hasn’t perished, yet.”

Yet? Hilt glanced around, searching for some sort of exit. The fiery dungeons of the seven hells were erupting beyond his cocooned sanctuary. The room was now a swirling whirlwind of orange and crimson with black smoke surreptitiously crawling about.

“How do I leave?”

The stranger’s brows narrowed. “I never said you couldn’t. And if you are planning to save the Princess, I would go soon. The fires have reached the north tower.”

Damnit. Hilt’s heart began to race as his eyes settled on a small opening in the burning wreckage beyond the barrier. It led south, the opposite way he needed to go, but he had no other choice. He would have to find a route that backtracked.

“Good luck, Damien Noden of Nibheis. And…”

Hilt glanced back and watched the stranger slowly rise, gracefully balancing on the tips of his toes.

“My name… It is Lazuris.”

Like the cascading falls behind the castle, the translucent and slightly iridescent shield that had been protecting Hilt tumbled and glistened away, like a million shards of starlight. For a moment, Hilt was entranced by its beauty, the effortless swirls that mixed in the yellow light. But the moment ended as quickly as it came. Smoke billowed around him and ribbons of flame and claws of embers were coiling ‘round his feet.

Hilt darted away as quickly as he could. He kept his elbow up to his face as he tried to filter out the smoke, but it appeared that while his small reprieve had cleansed his lungs it left him just a smidgen more tolerant than before.

The General was moving without recognizing. That burning picture frame, was it of the late King Odin which put him in the front hall? Or was it of the lily pond which meant he was near the courtyard? He couldn’t tell. He just had to keep moving.

Disoriented, but determined, he stumbled upon a set of stairs that, while filled with smoke, seemed to be free of the demon fire. The woodwork here seemed familiar, but he didn’t have time enough examine it. A flutter of light licked at his face before darting forward. That fucking moth!

But… it didn’t hurt him. It paused just a few feet from him, flapping its shimmering wings as if it were waiting for something.

“I’m supposed to follow you, now?” Hilt grumbled.

The moth fluttered in circles for a bit in response.

“Like I have a fucking choice…” Hilt gulped down a draft of sweet air that wafted from the insect’s magical wings before charging up the stairs after it. The curved steps creaked and groaned with each step, threatening to fall beneath his feet. He clutched at the wall, but the splintering wood did nothing to stabilize him.

He finally managed to break through to the top of the stairs as the moth quickly zipped away. Hilt tripped over something soft and squishy as he ran after the moth and tumbled to the ground.

The General’s eyes watered as he whacked his knee and he flung around to find the culprit, more than willing to separate the bastard from his limbs for that. Liore’s terrified face gazed back at him. It was scarred with soot and scrapes as she desperately tugged at the lumpy arm of the unconscious Cress. The girl stopped her frantic movements as the panicked lamb was locked into the gaze of the beast.

So Cress did not hire this pyrophilic mercenary? If he had, he would have fled the castle hours ago. His next guess would have been Princess Liore and yet here she stood, fighting for the idiot knight of lard rather than making her own escape. 

Hilt’s brows furrowed and his mouth opened to speak, to demand answers, to discover who ordered such a brutal attack that seemed to be centered around him and yet spiraled around the whole castle. Unfortunately for Hilt, the castle decided to make its answer first. The tell-tale groan and crackle of splintering wood echoed above Hilt just before a large section of the plaster ceiling crumbled down between the General and the other two.

The dust settled quickly and, much to Hilt’s surprise, the crumbles of rock and wood extinguished any nearby flames, leaving an unsteady barrier before him.

He could do it. He could save them, or save their lives, at least. The wreckage was minimal, it would take him just a few seconds to clear enough to get them out.

Liore’s screams were dulled by her new sarcophagus of stone. They were strained and desperate. Hilt glanced around, noting the unique fork in the hallway. Liore had been trying to pull Cress into the Library, but this entrance led to a singular balcony with no other exist save for a six story fall to the ground.

Hilt’s fingertips wiggled anxiously as the terrors of the fire slipped from his mind for just a moment. Oh yes, he could save them. Save them for his supper. His tongue ran over his teeth and his neck relaxed at the thought. He wouldn’t want such highborn flesh cooked too crisply, now would he?

The moth made another appearance, this time dancing annoyingly in Hilt’s face.

“Not now,” Hilt growled, trying to swat it away.

It grew more persistent, but Hilt tried to ignore it, focusing on the swells of tense energy that were swirling in his muscles, aching ever so sweetly as he reached for that tantalizing moment. He knew he could easily escape with such a delectable meal in his belly. Even that Lazuris’ demon fire would be no match for his Lycaon coat.

The moth landed upon his nose, singeing the delicate skin.

“Fuck!” Hilt swore, wincing. He stepped back, his eyes clearing from his feral obsessions. Smoke wormed through the cracks and crevices of the fallen ceiling, and Liore’s screams had stopped. He had wasted too much time here.

“Let them burn.” 

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