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Monarch - Pyrrhic I (Second Draft)
🕑 Added 2022-08-02 18:11:15 +0000 UTCLokerias shivered in the cold, stifling a cough. He had always been prone to illness, but his now threadbare apparel, along with the drastic shift in temperature between Sanctum chambers hadn’t done him any favors. He wished, not for the first time, that his genealogy had far more water mages, and far less from the earth. If they had an unlimited supply of water, at least he’d have a way to not feel hungry.
A rustling from a nearby bush caught his ear. He called out. “Neki? How’d the fishing go?”
Neki emerged from the brush. Her mousey silver hair was mussed, her angular face covered in bits of dirt. “Well,” she started, her old world accent thick. “As you know, our one hook is getting a bit blunted. So, there I was at the shoreline, struggling to insert said dull hook into a particularly displeased and uncooperative grasshopper—when an infaris’ struck greater demon, twice my height, came lumbering out of the gods damned thicket.”
Lokerias stood, his hand on his sword. He scanned their surroundings first, then looked back to Neki. She was nearly as threadbare and worn down as he was, but save a few new scratches on her cheek seemed relatively unharmed.
“What did you do? Are we in danger?” Lokerias asked.
“What do you think I did? What would anyone do?”
“Run?”
“I screamed like a newborn croodle.” Neki slumped down. “Panicked. Tried desperately to get away and fell plum on my face. The greater demon stared down at me. Had the gall to look disappointed. And you know what he said to me, Loke?”
Lokerias had a vague picture of what had happened now, but had no intention of jumping in front of the runaway wagon that was Neki on a tirade. He held his tongue.
“Carry on.” Neki erupted. “Carry on. All dismissive. Like I’m some sort of miscreant to be sent on my way.”
“So what I’m gathering is, you met one of the asmodial sentinels and panicked,” Lokerias said.
“That’s about the short of it, yea.”
“Well then. Mushrooms it is.” Lokerias didn’t bother asking about the hook, or for that matter, the rod. It had been suspiciously absent in the rest of her story. He went and unpacked the wood he had been studiously saving, hoping to use for a nice fish dinner and set up a campfire. But no. They would use it to cook mushrooms instead. Oh, how tired he was of mushrooms.
And they were nearly out. Too far from any of the established trade depots, they would likely have to return to the Heart early. They hadn’t found anything of significance, so the precepts would likely take one look at their disheveled state and send them back to the Enclave.
They had barely started cooking before an animal shriek from high above startled him out of the spiraling thought.
“What was that?” Neki was staring at the sky, squinting.
“Sounded big. Too big to be on the upper layers.” Lokerias turned in a wide circle, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound.
A winged reptile soared above him, and roared. Lokerias nearly pissed himself. He knew there were reports of wyverns in the Sanctum, but they were always on the lower levels, usually questionable accounts given by older infernals about to graduate.
Suddenly, returning to the heart didn’t seem like such a tall order.
But before he could turn and yell for Neki to run, the wyvern smashed headfirst into a tree. There was an explosion of wood and bone, shrapnel whizzing by his head, and he dropped.
There was a low groan, and a figure clad in black slid off the dragon’s body. He was tall. An older infernal, if he was an infernal at all. Lokerias could scarcely believe any mortal was capable of what he was seeing.
Did he just ride a wyvern… into a tree?
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neki wander closer, peeking up over a stump.
“So beautiful. So very, very, dumb.” The man spoke, seemingly directly to the wyvern. He patted the dead beast gently. Then he pulled a cruel looking knife and began carving into the wyvern’s chest with brutal efficiency.
Maybe he was an elder? There were elders that had been in the sanctum for hundreds of years.
“Yes Vogrin, I’m aware.” The man snapped.
First the wyvern, now talking to himself. Almost definitely an Elder. But Lokerias wasn’t taking any chances. Slowly, timing his footsteps with the sound of tearing flesh, he made his way to Neki, pointing towards a deepening section of wood. She took his meaning and rose to her feet.
“The both of you should really look up more.” The man called out.
They froze. The man was still going about his work, carving into the wyvern’s chest. His blade slipped, and he swore, mumbling something about good knives being impossible to hold on to.
“Were you following us?” Neki asked, not bothering to hide the accusation in her voice.
“Nope.” The man said. He turned to look at them for the first time. His hood wreathed his features, veiling them in shadow. He pointed to the wyvern. “But that was. For at least a chamber. Either of you got a fire element?”
The idea of giving random strangers information about their elements set of alarm bells in Lokerias’s head.
Neki spoke almost immediately. “I do. Three generations back.” There was a hint of pride in her voice.
Dammit Neki.
“Very nice. Second awakening?”
“… No.” Neki scowled.
“The hells is wrong with you?” The man kicked the wyvern with a dull thump. “Can’t catch me, so just any replacement is fine?”
“Any replacement—” Neki sputtered
“Sorry, sorry.” The man said. “Frost Wyverns are attracted to fire elements. Some opposites attract thing.”
Neki paled.
Something about the man’s wording threw Lokerias. Fire elements. There were sub variants and mutations of almost every magical element. Earth had metallurgy and other less useful variants. Water had poison and blood. But fire only had one sub-variant.
The Dantalion flame.
He hadn’t been in the Sanctum during the events of nearly two years ago, but Lokerias’s sister had. She told him the story of the Bearer of the Sacred Flame. A prince who had sold his soul to secure the Asmodial legion to fight some elven invader. A human who died fighting that invader for the sake of infernal children. It was a tale that had spread across the Enclave like the very flame the prince invoked. And there had been sightings. Strange rumors. Probably wishful thinking, but…
Lokerias stepped forward, curious and emboldened. “I’m a plain earth mage myself.”
The man’s head panned towards the Wyvern with a slow, condescending motion that seemed to say, really?
“And what power do you hold, stranger?” Lokerias continued. He took a few steps forward, trying to get an angle under the hood to see the color of skin beneath.
“Stop there, for now.” The congeniality was gone from the man’s voice. Lokerias stopped. “You should go back to the heart. Both of you. You have few supplies to speak of, and there are strange happenings afoot.” There was a sniffing noise. “There should be at least three of you, if not four. And unless I miss my guess, you’re going to be hungry tomorrow.”
Now that he mentioned it, there was a burned scent to the air. Lokerias dismissed it as coming from the wyvern earlier, but it was strangely earthy.
“Oh lord below, the mushrooms.” Neki ran forward in a panic, any warning forgotten, as she pulled the now ruined mushrooms from the fire. Lokerias swore and went to help her. But it was no use.
Staring down at their blackened, ruined supper, Lokerias spoke aloud. “Thank you for saving us. However, we can’t go back now. We have nothing to show for our time. No one would join us without a boon.”
Neki looked like she wanted to deny it, but remained silent. Even with her pride, she probably knew he was right. They sat there, huddled around the fire, as the man hacked at the Wyvern’s chest. Lokerias watched in quiet envy as he eventually withdrew his prize and wrapped it in a piece of leather—the wyvern’s heart. It would fetch a fortune. His dark mood slipped further.
“Maybe we can help each other,” the man said.
Neki’s ears perked up, her tail swishing from side to side. “Oh?”
“For reasons I will not explain, so don’t bother asking, I am not supposed to be here. Just like our scaly friend. We’ll name it Russ.”
“That’s a terrible name for a wyvern--” Neki started.
“—More importantly,” Lokerias cut her off, “What did you have in mind?”
“A favor in two parts.” The man held up a gloved finger. “One, you leave me out of any stories you tell out of what’s transpired here.” He held up a second finger. “And two, you make good use out of all of Russ’s parts. Talons, leather, scales, all of it.”
“But we didn’t kill it,” Lokerias protested.
“Yes you did.” The man deadpanned. “I saw the whole thing.”
Lokerias was thoroughly confused.
“I see. We killed Russ.” Neki murmured. “Wait. How did we kill Russ? We’re not exactly experienced, and he’s a wyvern.”
“She’s a wyvern.” The man corrected.
“Terrible name--”
“I don’t know, she was sickly—likely on account of missing her damn heart—and you kicked her a bunch. Or something.” The man said, exasperated. “Do you both want the flying treasure trove or not?”
“Yes,” Lokerias and Neki spoke immediately.
“Good. We’ve reached an agreement, then.” The man tied the swaddled heart to his pack and slung it over his shoulder. “The rest of it won’t be as valuable, but it will still be quite the boon. No Precept in the Sanctum would send you back home if they think you bagged a wyvern, sickly or not. Should be enough to get a proper team together as well.
They both thanked him and set to work on Russ. It was tough work, but well worth it when Lokerias imagined the reaction of the camp, and the gold it would tender.
Out of the corner of his eye, Lokerias saw the stranger slipping away into the frost-crested forest.
“I’ll be right back.” Lokerias whispered, leaving Neki to puzzle out how to harvest the Wyvern’s sapphire talons.
Half-frozen grass crunched painfully loudly as he followed the stranger. The man seemed to have something of a limp, and was leaving small droplets of blood behind him. Despite his cavalier nature, he hadn’t gotten out of the crash unscathed.
Sure the man must have heard him by now, Lokerias called out. “You’re injured.”
The man kept walking. “Flesh wound. Nothing to worry about after a potion or two.”
“Are you him?” Lokerias asked.
The man stopped.
“My sister told me the stories. Of the human who sold his soul for us.” Lokerias continued, growing less sure of himself by the second.
“He died.” The man said quietly.
“Yes. But there have been legends of infernals so powerful they battled their way out of the deepest circle of hell and emerged victorious. And she said, if anyone could do it, he could.” Unable to hold it back, Lokerias corrected himself. “You could.”
The man let out a heavy sigh. “Legends are stories with a better name. And most of the stories going around are embellished to the hells. Sorry, kid. The prince is gone. I’m someone else entirely.”
“Do you know what really happened then?” Neki called out. She’d left the camp and now stood beside a snow-covered shrub, a few feet behind him. The curiosity in her expression told Lokerias she’d connected the same dots he had. “It sounds like you knew him, at least.”
There was a tense moment as the man hesitated. His body sagged, exuding exhaustion.
“Share our fire,” Lokerias urged.
“It’s the least we can do in exchange for the gift you’ve given us.” Neki added.
