Sixteen:
Old Men, Old Grudges
"I think they've had it too easy thus far," Finley announced as Victoria and Reaver began their descent down the stairs. The wisp floated along after them, occasionally dipping through the smoke of a brazier. "Now they're inside proper, the Forge of Fire can properly test their mettle. We'll know soon if either of them are worthy of getting that Willstone."
"I don't suppose you'll just give us the Willstone, will you?" Reaver replied. Victoria thought he seemed bored of the situation, barely even looking where he was going.
The steps were longer than she'd thought, stretching deep below the surface of the mountain. She was glad everything was illuminated, that they weren't wandering through endless darkness with only a vague inclination as to where to go. Somehow it made everything feel easier. This was just a simple adventure with an interesting new set of guides; that was it. The Crawler chuckled in response.
"No," Bob said. "But we can give you a round of applause for how well you're doing!" For a few seconds an odd whooshing sound filled the room. Finally, Bob added in a meek voice: "Err, Finley, there's something wrong with my arms."
"You're not the brightest candle in the holder, are you?" Reaver drawled around a smirk.
Finley just sighed. "What am I supposed to do with you? Centuries of being a disembodied soul and you still haven't gotten the hang of it!"
"It's a subtle art!" Bob protested.
"Subtle?! There's nothing subtle about it! There's literally nothing to it!"
They had reached the end of the stairs and were deposited out into small room. Slow moving machinery lined the walls, cropping out of the ground like strange plants. Vents in the floor at the edges of the room allowed for lava to cast the room in a warm, orange glow, making the continued appearance of braziers superfluous.
"Well, we can't all be as wonderful as you are, Finley," Bob replied quietly as they made their way up another, much smaller flight of stairs.
Reaver snorted, pushing open the door before them. It opened into an enormous hall, the ceiling of which was lost in darkness. Cracked stone pillars were dispersed through the room at regular intervals. Otherwise, the room seemed empty. I wonder how far the Willstone is. If Bob and Finley are still guarding this place, it must still be here; but where? She repressed the urge to reach for Reaver's hand. Their footsteps echoed as they walked and Victoria forced herself to focus on the room instead of her wandering thoughts.
It was getting to be a nuisance to keep the spell for cool air going. While not draining in and of itself, it was still wearing at her—the way the end of the day seemed wearing even if the day hadn't been trying in the slightest. She wanted to drag her feet and demand a rest, but she knew better. If they stopped now, they weren't getting out of here anytime soon. And she wasn't about to endanger herself and Reaver by asking him to carry her.
The hall turned into winding passageways which, in turn, ended in a lift. Victoria eyed it with a mix of surprise and distrust before hitting the call button. Isn't this far more advanced technology than they ought to have had then? She paused, considering the options. Or, perhaps, it was more advanced than we've been led to believe.
The lift arrived neatly before them and Victoria frowned tiredly, realising it was powered by a crank. Great….
"Do allow me," Reaver cut in upon noticing her expression.
Victoria followed him onto the lift, curious at the lack of mockery in his tone. Her surprise reached new levels as he began turning the crank, slowly bringing them up to the next level. "Very well, I'll bite. You're not one for manual labour—most days—so why bother?"
"As fascinating as it is to sit around, doing nothing whilst you do your Hero thing—" he wiggled the fingers on his free hand for added affect— "it is boring to sit around with nothing, and no one, to play with. I'd like to keep my hands occupied at the very least…and this is the very least I can do."
"If she's the Hero, then what are you?" Bob enquired cheerfully, floating in closer. The glow of his wisp cast a pale teal light over the metal framework around them. "Her attendant?"
Reaver's expression immediately brightened. "Oh, yes. Her most loyal and astute attendant. I would tend to her every day, multiple times a day, if she would let me. However, she's declared it's 'improper' and would 'start people talking'. Alas, my efforts seem to be for naught, though none can say I haven't tried."
He finished his declaration with a delicate shrug and Victoria began to wish she'd left him behind with Theresa. Back at camp where he'd be incapable of spewing…whatever that had been that he'd just said. She didn't think her cheeks could have been redder if she'd rouged them.
Thankfully, the innuendos and teasing had gone right over Bob's head for, just as cheerfully, he replied: "Isn't that lovely, Finley? How nice to see that people still care about each other in this day and age."
There was an almost pointed pause before Finley finally sighed, sounding as though he'd really like to put his head in his non-existent hands.
Both Finley and Victoria were spared further embarrassment as the lift reached the next level. The wisps' conversation turned to whether or not they believed Victoria and Reaver would be successful on retrieving the Willstone. Victoria tried not to listen to them as they traversed grated walkways and ducked into a low-ceilinged tunnel. She wondered how many people they'd seen make an attempt at retrieving the Forge's treasure in the past. How many people had tried and failed and either died or ran off, incapable of succeeding if only because they didn't possess the Will to do so.
"You're so controlling! Just like your mother!" Bob wailed, once more breaking through Victoria's thoughts.
"You leave mummy out of this!" Finley snapped, though it didn't stop them from launching back into their bickering.
"Did I miss something?" Victoria enquired as they approached another lift.
Once more taking station at the crank, Reaver replied: "Not at all. They merely began taking bets on our survival."
"I…see," she said slowly, not exactly thrilled. If they were taking bets, either things were about to get very bad or a lot of people had tried and failed by that point. But we're Heroes, she told herself, trying to think positively. Running into a situation that should have gotten us killed is in the description.
You are convincing no one, child, the Crawler observed.
Yes, thank you; I'm aware.
This lift was shorter, depositing them on a narrow landing surrounded by moving machinery. They had to duck down in some areas, squeezing through to avoid colliding with anything. The air felt cooler here now that they'd left the lava behind and Victoria let her spell weaken by half; there was no point in maintaining cool air when the warmest thing nearby was the sconces on the walls. On and on they went, up flights of stairs and past pipes leaking steam. Machinery greeted them at every turn and Victoria was beginning to feel as though they were wandering in the heart of some great mechanical beast. If the Old Kingdom had technology on par or greater than modern technology, as well as the capability to harness Will, would such things have been possibilities for them? Or was that something firmly in the realm of fiction?
They'd reached a narrow walkway suspended over open air. Footsteps clanging oddly with each step, Victoria turned her gaze upwards, following the site of a lift ascending up, out of sight. This is going to be fun.
"Psst, Finley! They're nearly there!" Bob hissed in a stage whisper as they got the lift going.
"Yes, I can see that. Thank you."
"I was just saying."
Victoria kept her eyes focused on the world outside the grate. She could see lava flowing in the distance behind the lift, flowing like a waterfall over the stone. As they drew nearer the rocky ceiling, Victoria realised with a start that they hadn't been actually attacked yet. A couple small puzzles, but no big challenges. She'd expected more, actually. Difficult puzzles or a horde of monsters or something to make this more dangerous. Perhaps the Enlightened had decided the lava was a big enough challenge as it was and hadn't bothered to make things more complicated…or, perhaps, they were saving the hard part until later. Suddenly wary, she rested her hands on the hilts of her knives and tried to keep calm and relaxed. Panic would help no one.
When the lift had reached its end, they came out into a small cavern. Victoria reinforced their bubble as streams of lava encroached almost serenely on the very edges of the road. A door like the ones they'd encountered in the Spirit Chambers lay before them. She pulled a trickle of Will through the artefacts on her hands and pushed her Will towards the door. It wasn't so bad this time, she decided; the painful prickling and invasiveness wasn't as present and it felt almost natural. The sound of stone grinding against stone echoed through the cavern as the door slid open, allowing them passage.
The room beyond was incredibly hot. A flaming tree sat on a stone podium suspended over a lake of molten rock. Lava poured from holes in the walls, spilling like liquid into the lake. And, above it all, a statue of a hooded man consumed by flames stood—observing them all in solemn silence.
"I guess…the Willstone is up there," Victoria murmured, unsure if it was a question or not. The wisps floated around them, somehow seeming excited even without words. She glanced up at Reaver with the hopes he might have an answer for her, but she only received a vague gesture in return.
"Step forward," came a voice from everywhere and nowhere. Something about it was familiar and, after a moment, she recognized it as the third of the voices that had spoken to her at the Pool of Sight—the one who had said there were worse evils than that which she carried. However, despite the gratefulness she had for him standing up for her, that didn't make her feel any better about this unknown voice directing her actions.
"Tell me who you are first," she replied. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Reaver shoot her a confused look. In response, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"I am Blaze, Hero of Fire—one of three who gave their lives so Albion could live on," the voice told her. There was a gentleness to his voice that seemed almost paternal and comforting; as though he'd expected anyone who sought to retrieve the Willstone would possibly be scared. "The darkness we held back millennia ago has returned to consume this land, Child of Archon. Its shadow spreads further by the day; its time of coming draws nearer. If it cannot be held back, all that you know will cease to be."
"Then why are you turning to me? Why not seek help from your Enlightened?"
"You were deemed worthy. You were the only one who answered the call. Approach the pool when you are ready."
For someone deemed "worthy" it felt like not a lot was being left up to her. And call? What call? Unless he was referring to coming to Theresa's aid. It was confusing; too confusing. Get the Willstone and get out, she decided, not feeling up to pondering over the mysteries of long dead Heroes.
Very reluctantly, she released Reaver's hand. Leaving him as far from the lava as possible, she ascended the podium's steps. A nearby vent exhaled a sudden burst of flame. She hadn't noticed the pool at first; it was tucked away at the base of the burning tree that was, admittedly, more impressive.
The water was oddly cold when she plunged her hands in, trying to ignore the weight of all the eyes watching her. At first nothing happened. The water felt pleasant compared to the heat of the Forge. And then the artefacts began to hum, burning against her flesh. She knew without trying that she wouldn't be able to take them off anyway, but the urge remained. Her fingers clutched at the edge of the pool, digging in to keep her from falling to the ground.
And then, all at once, the burning stopped. Breathing hard, Victoria opened her eyes, unsure when she had closed them, and realised…they were not the only thing that had stopped. The lava flows had solidified, the lake hardening and cracking as it rapidly cooled. The flames dancing on the branches of the tree had extinguished themselves, leaving only the sad, barren branches behind. Without the glow of the lava, the room seemed dim and full of shadows. Victoria cancelled her cooling bubble, only to find that the air in the cavern was now much cooler than the bubble had been. Why do I have the feeling something's wrong here?
Bob and Finley didn't seem to notice. They were too busy celebrating and exclaiming how they had known from the start she would do it. Reaver, on the other hand, didn't look pleased.
"Something happened," he observed when she drew near.
"Yes, though I couldn't say what. Perhaps the Willstone powered the Forge? Perhaps it's something el—"
"I'm sure there's a marvellous reason as to why it got all dark and mysterious, but I meant to you."
"I—" How did you know? "I'm fine," she insisted, anxious to move. "Really, I am. Can we just…go?"
He watched her a moment, contemplating, before flashing her a bright grin. "Of course, ma chere. Far better to leave than be stuck in this dreary cave forever."
As they returned to the lift, Victoria realised that everything had gone dark and cold. Silence permeated the air, only adding to the eeriness. All the machines have stopped…but why?
"So, you did it!" Finley said, the closest to cheerful he'd sounded since they'd arrived. "Now you just have to get out."
"I was afraid of that," Victoria muttered almost under her breath. There was always a catch.
There was haste to their steps now. A need to rush that hadn't haunted them before. Bob and Finley still guided them, though; leading them through pitch black passageways and past the dead corpses of machinery. Even the wisps had gone silent. They weren't darting about anymore, excitedly swooping from one area to the next. Instead they glided swiftly and without preamble. As much as Victoria would have liked the distraction of chatter, she had to admit that she was grateful for the lack of it. If only because she was on edge enough as it was without having to deal with echoes, as well.
They were almost to the second lift when they heard it: a faint clicking of a chitinous creature scuttling across the stone. Reaver and Victoria both groaned, well aware of all the things that sound could be heralding. It meant only one thing: giant bugs. And where there was one, there were always thousands. They both broke into a sprint.
A rockmite dropped down from the ceiling as they stepped into the lift. Before Victoria could even ready a spell, a gunshot rang out, shattering the silence. The rockmite exploded into bits and, almost immediately, the lift began making its way back down. The lift nearly reached their floor, bucked, and, with a calamitous clang began screeching its way down even faster. It passed their floor, crashing to the ground and throwing Victoria and Reaver off their feet. And then…silence. They both sat there, hearts pounding erratically in their ears and breaths unsteady.
"Come on! Come on!" Bob urged, rushing forward to fling the nearest door open.
Muttering in a language Victoria didn't know, Reaver hopped to his feet and helped her regain hers.
The next hall was dark and something about the shadows seemed menacing. They kept running, though. A paranoid thought intruding in Victoria's brain that, if they stopped, whatever was out there would catch up with them.
"We're getting there!" Bob announced as they began their ascent up an impossibly long staircase.
Finley tutted. "Of course we are! I knew they'd get out. How could they not with you constantly mollycoddling them, encouraging them all the time?"
"That's what we're here for," Bob said very slowly, almost as though he were confused. "To oversee and encourage challengers."
"Oh," Finley replied after a very, very long minute had passed. "I always wondered why they stuck us here. I thought it was meant to be punishment."
"Oh, very funny!" Bob snapped. "You think you're the only one who finds this job hard? What about me?! I've given you the best centuries of my life, stuck here with only you; forced to watch as you slowly turn into your father! I mean, I thought he was a miserable old git, but looking at you…."
Is this really the time for this? Victoria thought as they burst onto the landing. She was dying to say the words but, somehow, she felt they might be somewhat inappropriate. Victoria was saved from having to decide whether or not to respond as they burst back into the entryway of the Forge. Finally! The pool of lava in the centre of the room had solidified and the air had lost its stifling, sweat-inducing quality.
They slowed, no longer able to hear the bugs, and, upon nearing the front door, Finley awkwardly cleared his spectral throat. When no words were forthcoming, Bob, seemingly cheerful once more, said: "Well done! Congratulations! You passed the trials!"
"There wasn't very much to them," Reaver muttered under his breath, adjusting his jacket now that they were no longer running. Victoria casually elbowed him in the ribs, shaking her head minutely. Just because the quest was at its end, that didn't mean now was a good time to insult the ghosts.
"You were amazing," Finley praised, still sounding a bit awkward as Victoria pulled the door open. "Our kids did us proud!"
An odd silence fell over the group, everyone staring at Finley's wisp as though they didn't quite know what to say. When Finley didn't appear to realise what he'd said, Bob slowly enquired, "Our—our kids?"
"I-I mean the kids! Them!" Finley stuttered. If he'd been corporeal, Victoria might have thought he was blushing. "They did well!"
Reaver snorted, though it didn't sound entirely amused. Without further ado, he turned and left, stepping out into the darkened world outside. Victoria didn't follow. A wave of fondness washed over her as she watched the wisps. The Crawler was grumbling about idiocy and irrationality, but Victoria couldn't help herself.
"Bob? Finley?" she called gently. "Thank you. We couldn't have done it without you; truly."
"You're welcome," Bob chirruped brightly, Finley echoing him a moment later.
"I hope you both find peace."
The wisps didn't respond, bouncing slightly before vanishing from sight. And Victoria followed Reaver out into the night.
Outside, the molten rock had cooled and solidified, as well, casting the remnants of the Forge in shadow. Victoria caught back up with Reaver halfway down the bridge, falling into step with him easily. The air had turned cold and breezy—a relief after spending so much time surrounded by heat and smoke—and the faintest trace of growing things twisted with the wind to mingle with the scent of dust and stone. The moon seemed particularly far away tonight, its glow illuminating wisps of cloud like seafoam. Exhaustion had crept into her bones at some point in the journey and she found herself thinking longingly of sleep.
"What time do you think it is?" Victoria enquired around a yawn. She hoped Theresa hadn't waited up and that she'd remembered to give Satyr extra food and water.
Reaver fished his pocket watch out of his coat and flipped it open, angling it slightly to catch the glow of her tattoos. "Half after three."
A twitch had started up in the back of her mind and she ignored it. There was time to worry about twitches after she'd had some rest. "We can't have been in there so long."
"In theory, we could have—" Reaver closed the watch with a snap and replaced it in his pocket— "the trek to the Forge was long as it was. And the buffoons babbled for long enough."
"I liked them," she replied, stretching. Another twitch, creeping like fingers under her skin. "They were nice. And they'd been there for so long; I'm not surprised they were eccentric."
"Eccentric?" Reaver laughed. "My dear, I am eccentric—they were mad."
"Well, you both have something in common, then."
He gaped at her in mock horror. "How cruel you are!"
"Would you rather have me some other way?" she teased, nearly tripping over a loose stone.
Though his words were light, his tone was a little too serious and a little too sincere as he replied: "No. I would rather have you rage at the Heavens—challenging the gods themselves to submit to your will—than have you any way less than you are."
She was suddenly very glad for just how dark it was around them as a flush crept onto her cheeks. She never knew how to react when he said things like that. A part of her wanted to believe his words: they were beautiful and they made her feel beautiful in a way she never had. But she also knew he could be manipulative and…sometimes she worried. That this was all a ruse. That he was just using her to gain power. That he wasn't as deserving of the trust she placed in him as she would have liked him to be.
He didn't try to say anymore, though, and didn't try to force a reaction from her. And so they lapsed into silence. Hands occasionally brushing as they walked.
They'd made their way off the bridge and most of the way through the ruins beyond before the darkness deepened. At first, Victoria thought fog had rolled in around them. And then she realised that was impossible. It was blotting out the stars, the moon, the glow of her tattoos.
Alarmed, she flung her hand out, scattering light across the shadowed world. She pushed Will into the spell until it burned. The darkness shrieked in agony and abruptly withdrew. It found us. "Come on; we need to go!"
"I don't believe that's an option any longer," Reaver informed her quietly, drawing his Dragonstomper as he nodded towards the path ahead of them.
Victoria turned back, heart sinking at the sight of a thick, scarlet ooze spreading along the path, curling at the edges of the ancient equipment as though it might consume them. Teeth clenched in annoyance, she tapped into her Will once more. "Right; new plan: we fight."
"Was that ever not in the plan, ma chere?"
No, I suppose it wasn't.
The darkness had reformed itself. With a furious shriek that made her ears ache, it launched itself at them. They scattered, diving for cover. Victoria felt a burst of pain rip through her knee and elbow as she skidded into hiding behind a broken pillar. She couldn't see where Reaver had gone, but there was no chance to look for him. The darkness was solidifying, shaping itself into a robed figure that towered over them. The entire world seemed to shake as it slammed its clawed, skeletal hands into the ground.
"Where is she?" the Devourer demanded. His voice had a low, rumbling quality that made her think of a dying man shouting on damaged vocal chords. "Where is the Seer?"
A wave of unexpected relief washed over her. If the Devourer was asking where Theresa was, then it hadn't found her, yet. They were still safe. They still had a chance to finish this.
Insolent wretch. Vile usurper. We will not be subjected to you again, the Crawler hissed, writhing furiously. Victoria didn't have a chance to condemn him or ask him to focus. The ground was shaking, minor trembles that did nothing to make her feel better. Something scraped against stone and Victoria looked up. Clawed fingers longer than her arm had wrapped around the pillar she was hiding behind.
Oh, shit, she thought, muscles tensing as she readied herself to run.
"You seem to have us confused with someone else," Reaver drawled from the opposite side of the courtyard. "There's no Seers here. Allow me to demonstrate."
The bark of gunfire shattered the air and the claw withdrew from Victoria's pillar. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and crept out of hiding.
Reaver's shots were having about as much effect on the Devourer as throwing pebbles would have, but, fortunately, seemed to be just as annoying. Sneaking out into an area where she'd be less likely to trip, Victoria summoned her Will. As easily as lighting a match, fire burst into being in her hands, growing and flowing until it swirled like a living being around her arms. She loosed a gout of flame at the Devourer's back; the fire licking hungrily at his robes until she cut power to the spell. Immediately, she threw herself backwards.
With a screech of rage, it had turned toward her, clawing its way across the ground toward her with incredible speed.
Victoria panicked. Her next spell missed, flowing across a metal hatch in the ground. To her surprise, there was a great whoosh! and a pillar of flame spat itself out from the hatch. The Devourer only narrowly avoided stepping right into it, screaming as it scrabbled to get away.
There must be some kind of gas here; something to fuel the Forge when it's active! Or to help people using the Forge with their work. Victoria's mind reeled. If there was something exceedingly flammable here, then maybe they could—
What are you waiting for, child?! the Crawler fumed. Burn him!
Reaver was shooting again, dodging annoyed swipes of the Devourer's claws. Victoria launched another fireball, aiming for the next vent she saw. A screech of pain and fury echoed across the courtyard and, the next thing Victoria knew, she was on her back. Dazedly staring up at the sky. Her stomach ached as though she'd been punched. Victoria slowly started to pull herself to her feet, wondering what had hit her. The next moment, she had to throw herself out of the way as an orb of deep red energy hurtled through the air towards her. A quick shield kept the debris from cutting into her as it smashed into the ground at her feet.
The Devourer had had enough. The next fireball Victoria lobbed at it smashed into its chest, and, in response, it lunged forward to slam her into the ground with a massive hand; the jolt of it searing through her skull and down her spine in a single surge of pure pain. Dazed and sluggish, Victoria felt it pick her up. Its fingers tightening until she could barely breathe; her ribs felt like they would snap with little effort. Her right arm was pinned between her side and the Devourer's fingers. Struggling did nothing.
"I want the blind one; where is she?" he demanded, lifting her until they were nearly eye level.
She hadn't gotten a good look at him until now: glowing red eyes glared out at her from behind a cracked and scarred mask. Enormous bones jutted out of its back and body as though it were wearing the skeleton of some mythical creature as armour. The Crawler's rage had seeped into her Will, begging to be released, and she tried to pull it into a spell—anything to keep from possibly dying. The Devourer tightened its grip and she lost the spell, barely able to keep from screaming.
"She has grown weak and lax. I will have her. I will end her."
A great burst of fire rose up the Devourer's side and it shrieked, attempting to get away from the flame and nearly dropping her in the process. Through her haze of pain, Victoria could do nothing but watch as the Devourer raised his free hand and backhanded Reaver. It was done almost casually, but, moments later, Victoria heard something heavy collide with stone on the other side of the courtyard. Panic flooded her body.
"Reaver!" Victoria yelped, trying and failing to pull herself free. "Reaver, no!"
She cut herself off with a gasp of pain. The Devourer yanked her upwards, once again eye level. She was dying, she realised—slowly being crushed to death under the weight of the hand wrapped around her body.
"You resist, but it is pointless. All you hold dear will be broken by my hand. All will bow to the Master 'til the end of days."
"We will never again bow to the Master who betrayed us!" the Crawler snarled, momentarily ripping control of Victoria's body from her before retreating once more.
Something like confusion rippled over the Devourer and it involuntarily loosened its grip. "You are—"
Light blossomed, slicing through the darkness behind them. And, for the first time, the Devourer's scream sounded like one of true agony. He accidentally dropped her.
The ground rushed up to meet her and the air rushed from her lungs. Everything hurt.
Crimson tar poured from the Devourer like blood, dripping and splattering over the courtyard's stone. Without thinking, Victoria pulled on her Will and unleashed it. Light flooded the courtyard, burning.
The Devourer curled in on itself, twisting as it tried to find solace from the light. It crumbled like ashes, fading in the wind. She could hear the Crawler screaming in anguish in the back of her mind. Victoria cut the flow of Will to her spell, watching as the tar vanished and the world righted itself. Need to see if Reaver's alright. Breathing heavily, she lay there, trying to coax her body into healing quickly enough for her to get up.
Footsteps echoed through the courtyard, scraping slightly like metal against stone. Alarmed, Victoria forced herself to sit up. The alarm faded to confusion. It was a man, robed in blue and leaning against a golden scythe. She recognized him, too: she'd been dreaming about him for years.
AN: Hi. This'll be the last chapter of Blackout I'll post this year. I'm gonna go on a little hiatus...probably until just after my birthday at the beginning of February, but I'll possibly be back sooner. I just need a wee rest. I want to take a moment and thank all of you for your support throughout the posting of this series-I really appreciate it and am so glad to see you're enjoying it thus far. I hope all of you have a lovely New Years and I'll see you soon. ^^ Hope you're enjoying reading.
Dev. Notes: N/A