Chapter 39
Warmth
The shadow of Iyrodenin lengthened into the rocky desert to the east. The dark rock beneath Wartortle's belly scutes never fully cooled. The surface of the volcano was heated from within. If he strained his hearing, the hiss of Quil's rear flames were noticeable. That meant his friend, standing a few paces away, had his back to Wartortle. Neither spoke. Exactly how Wartortle wanted it. He had a mountain of information to process, and his silent darkness was one of the best environments for that.
Wartortle was not the only human in these lands, which he knew now from the words of both Moltres and Victini to be Preserve Alpha. Tristan Pratts was here too, wearing the stolen form of Victini. His goal was the antithesis of what Wartortle and Quil had been striving for. An unimaginable, heinous goal. The confinement and thievery at Blindhollow, the hindrance of the evolution ceremony at Needleloft, the refugees, the radical and unnatural shifting of power in the wilderness – all of the problems that Wartortle knew of and all of those that he did not were mere harbingers of the atrocities Victini planned. Wartortle had no idea how Victini intended to proceed, following the boosting of all three Legendary Birds, but he was aware that Victini possessed both the ambition and ability to bring about his awful vision. He'd proven that with the calamities he'd already caused on Preserve Alpha.
More than ever before, Wartortle was needed. He was the only individual on the planet who knew as much about what was happening as Victini did. No one else could don the mantle of responsibility. If he failed, nothing would stand between Victini and his goals. As much as he liked and respected Quil, the words and concepts exchanged in the conversation were probably too foreign for his friend to properly understand. This was a human problem. No Pokémon, no matter how strong, tough, charismatic, or determined, would be able to triumph against Victini's clever designs. For this mission, lives were at stake. Wartortle could not afford to shirk his work. If he ignored Victini or ran away, others would pay. Everyone would pay. Every Pokémon he had ever seen or met since waking up as a Squirtle. Now was the moment above all others to take action.
Wartortle stayed in his shell. A cool gust from the sea rolled by. Quil said nothing. Wartortle said nothing.
He loathed who he had been. The mere thought of what he had done thoroughly disgusted him. All of it had been a game, everything caused by a whim during a celebration. Everything. Victini's body theft. Wartortle's decision to become a Pokémon. His memory loss. Waking up alone in a forest. The boosts and their horrible impact. Had Wartortle truly allowed all of it for the sake of a heat-of-the-moment bet? Encouraged it, even, by upping the ante with his selection of a Squirtle body and choice to lose all recent memory? He just couldn't believe it. As a human, sure, he'd been proud of certain outstanding traits of his: intelligence, diligence, ambition, to name a few. Had the lab's breakthrough inspired him to flaunt them so? To engage in a friendly competition with the fate of thousands of Pokémon at stake? The idea was sickening.
If Quil walked away right now, he would not be surprised. Wartortle had been a horrible person. His cavalier attitude had allowed the boosts to occur. The struggles and sacrifices endured by the Resistance were caused, in part, by the person he had been. He should be an enemy of all Pokémon. If all the Pokémon of Preserve Alpha knew the truth, Wartortle would not be welcome anywhere, and rightfully so. Quil was a good Pokémon through and through. If he were Quil, he'd be seething with hatred, marveling at how someone could care so little about others' lives. Wartortle deserved to be left behind.
From the life he could recall prior to the memory gaps, Wartortle knew he did not feel the same way as Victini about Pokémon. Yes, protected reserves like this one meant reduced land available for human use. But he had never resented the creatures. He had never despised the way that instinct guided their thoughts and actions much more powerfully than in humans, nor how prominently fighting featured in their lifestyle. Now that he'd lived the life of a Pokémon, he even preferred this life in some ways. The thrill, the vitality and power, the simplicity. Had the old Brayden known what he knew now, he would never have agreed to the bet with Tristan.
There might come a time when human society would choose to develop the land of Preserve Alpha for human use. Urbanize it. He and Victini had changed the world forevermore by the creation of the brainstate transferal process. Humanity's need for land would increase significantly. Any effort on the part of Wartortle, Quil, or the Resistance was a delay of the inevitable. However, Victini's methods were abhorrent. The man-turned-Pokémon needed to be stopped by someone. Even if a deplorable individual like Wartortle was the most suitable candidate.
The cool of dusk washed over his skin as he emerged from his earth-warmed shell. Quil faced north, away from Wartortle. His dark blue fur broke up his outline against the sea. He stood tall on his hind legs, statuesque but for the quivering flames.
"Is it all true?" The breeze carried his soft words to Wartortle's ears.
"Maybe." He let out a breath through his nostrils. "Probably. I'll never regain the lost memories of those final months, but...I see no holes in Victini's report of what happened."
Quil ducked his head to the side and looked at Wartortle with one ruby eye, before turning back to the sea. "All this trouble is because of a game between you and Victini?"
"Seems that way," Wartortle's posture sagged as he replied in a voice so low he doubted Quil had heard him. Quil sighed before laughing once. A moment later, his face came into Wartortle's downcast view. Wartortle followed Quil's eyes as he rose to his hind legs.
"I wonder what that makes me, if a mean and arrogant human calls me his best friend?" A small smile. "Joking. I don't care what you were like before; I know you're a good 'mon now."
"What?" Wartortle actually felt a touch of frustration at Quil's reaction. "You can't forgive someone like me that easily. I deserve much worse."
The Quilava tilted his head and paused, considering. "But you're not like that anymore. What Victini said about the way you were on the day you became a Squirtle feels wrong to me. I bet he was exaggerating or lying. You know, I'd say that 'mon is a Shadow or Psychic. He sounded like a sneaky one, even if he looks like a Fairy." He blinked and refocused on Wartortle. "Anyway, what's next for us?"
"Quil. How are you...you can't...Quil, I'm responsible for all this. I was a terrible person. I treated the lives of every Pokémon here like toys."
Quil shook his head. "I don't trust Victini, and even if you were as bad as he said, that doesn't matter anymore. You're different now. We're partners now! So, how are we going to permanently end all the boosts?"
Wartortle stared at his friend. How lucky I am, to have met a Pokémon like Quil, he thought before inhaling deeply of the salt-tinged breeze.
"Fine, you win. First let's ensure we're alone." After their gyre of fire and water confirmed that the air around them was empty, Wartortle continued in a voice low enough to be heard only by Quil.
"I think we should do as my past self wanted, my original intent in coming here. Stop Victini. Maybe the old Brayden truly did treat this as a game, but it never was. Victini's plans culminate in the destruction of all life in these lands. We cannot allow him to advance his goals beyond having three active boosts. That means we have to stop him as soon as possible."
Quil watched him with ears pricked far forward. His face was grim as he nodded for Wartortle to continue.
"If our earlier deception worked correctly, Victini will think we're going to hide out near the base of Iyrodenin for a couple of weeks, then steal the talisman he's going to give to Moltres. When we don't show up, he'll know we're trying to steal Articuno's or Zapdos' talisman instead. All the more reason for us to move quickly. The other two Legendary Birds won't be expecting us like Moltres. We can steal or break their talismans, wait for Victini to come, then ambush him."
He pounded a fist into an open hand. "We'll knock him out and prevent him from doing any more harm. From there, we'll take the other talismans at our leisure. That will stop the boosts. The key, though, will be taking Victini down. He's the source, the greatest problem. And he's very smart. We've seen how cautious he is."
Quil chuckled. "I think I followed all of that. You realize this sounds like an idea hatched by an Aipom and an Infernape? Finding Articuno and Zapdos, ambushing an invisible 'mon, defeating four Legendaries in battles?"
Phrased like that, Wartortle did admit the plan was naively ambitious. What he said was, "You forget that we've already accomplished the impossible. Today we met two Legendaries, and-"
"Victini isn't really a Legendary Pokémon, if he's telling the truth."
Wartortle waved a hand. "Fine, but we also defeated Moltres in a battle already."
"That was mostly you, and only because of Victini's rock. The fight was basically Legendary versus Legendary."
Wartortle gave him a level look, and Quil finally broke into a playful smirk. "Okay, okay, I believe in your plan. Do you want to find Zapdos or Articuno?"
"Hm." Wartortle folded his arms. "Good question. Either of them would serve our purpose as the bait for our true target, Victini."
"He said we're on this island's northern tip," Quil pointed out. "Moltres said Zapdos is in the southwest and Articuno in the northeast. Articuno must be much closer."
"And time's a luxury we don't have," Wartortle finished. "Nice thinking. If we hug the coastline as we travel east, we won't be able to miss it. We'll run right into the mountainous peninsula Moltres mentioned."
Quil fell to all fours and began walking further down the slope, and Wartortle joined him with a final remark. "We have to succeed, Quil. I need to atone for what I've done."
Together they descended to the volcano's base. The shift from hardened black lava to orange soil and scattered pebbles was as abrupt a transition as Wartortle had ever encountered. One footfall fell onto smooth rock, the next onto yielding dirt. Iyrodenin's shadow vanished, taken by the arrival of night, as the pair took their first steps into the arid landscape. By their combined efforts, a shallow pit was soon cleared in the soil. Any deeper, and the fine soil on the sides would begin to collapse inward.
Wartortle was withdrawing his head into his shell when it shot back out from a sudden noise. Quil lifted his head. A shrieking cry pierced the cloudless night as easily as the moonlight. The sound had come from above. From Iyrodenin's peak.
"Moltres," said Quil in a tone of contemplation.
The ground began to shake.
"Earthquake!" said Wartortle out of reflex.
"No," Quil said, rising to his feet and scrambling out of the hole. "Eruption! Run!"
Wartortle leaped out of the pit, tearing his hands and feet through soil. He dashed further into the desert behind Quil's bounding run. That Quilava was fast when he needed to be. Whipping past wiry shrubs and jumping over the fractured rocks in his path, they rapidly distanced themselves from the volcano as the trembling of the ground worsened. Another sound from the peak, like a detonation, had Wartortle glancing backward as he ran. What he saw caused him to stumble and fall into some briar.
The hazy plume of smoke was gone, replaced by a rising column of red fumes as thick as Iyrodenin's summit. The red glow came from a dazzling fountain of red-hot lava hundreds of feet high. Particles ejected from the orange and yellow glow of the crater streamed fine trails of fiery red behind them, showering out of the smoke column to pepper the slopes. The tame rivulets of lava were being consumed by an outpouring of glowing magma from the peak. Already, the flow had cascaded halfway down the mountainsides.
A winged figure circled the eruption like a glorious, burning comet. Moltres shrieked once again, adding a high-pitched voice to the low roar of the earth's fury.
"Run, Wartortle, there's no time!" Quil urged, some twenty feet ahead.
He tore his gaze from the volcano and hurried to catch up. Seconds later, an eerie red haze infiltrated the sky overhead, spreading eastward, northward, southward. Every direction. In time with the haze, a wave of heat swept along the ground from the volcano, enfolding Wartortle as he ran. He staggered, feeling the hot air fill his throat and lungs, but did not fall.
The two ran farther into the arid land without stopping. As with the Electric storm and the Ice storm, the sky had been smothered by a sudden cloud cover. This time, the clouds resembled a stream of smoke from Iyrodenin. Their color was a luminous red, as if lit from below by a landscape engulfed by raging wildfires.
The temperature of the air steadily climbed. Wartortle's breaths came hot and heavy as he trailed Quil, who kept casting worried glances backward at Wartortle's slowing pace. The heat was not like sunlight beating down upon his skin, nor was it like the heat of exertion in a battle. Wartortle felt like he was in an oven. Radiant heat pressed against him from every direction. It was inescapable.
Desperately, he drew from his Pool and sprayed water into the air. The water splashed against his face, his shell, but it brought no relief. The droplets clung to him like beads of sweat.
"I can't," he gasped to Quil as he came to a stop. "Need water. Need cold."
Quil stopped as well. He looked perfectly healthy. The red glow from the sky matched his eyes, and his fires quivered with liveliness. "The ocean. You need the ocean. It looks like it's only a minute or two away. Let's go!" Fresh as an ignited matchstick, he dashed northward.
Wartortle followed at a pace much slower than he would have liked. His energy was flagging. When the ground beneath his hands and feet turned from soil to coarse sands, then to the lapping of sea foam, he dimly realized they'd reached the sea. He let his elbows and knees give way for the whitewater tide to carry him out. The cold water leeched the heat from his belly, and he sighed with relief. It was not enough though. He needed to be immersed.
"Find me when this is over, Wartortle!" called Quil from the beach. He stood a wary distance from even the moist sand. "I'll be up on these dunes!"
"I will!" Wartortle called back, as his friend retreated and a great wave collapsed upon him.
Submerged in seawater, he powered his tail and propelled himself away from the coast to escape the tumult caused by the breakers. Growing up in Castelia, he'd learned well how rough the waters could be where the ocean's waves met the beach. When he'd reached a calm spot on the sandy bottom, he allowed himself to sink down for a rest. Basking in the ocean's cold was more delicious than lemonade on a hot day in his old life. The salty flavor in his mouth and nostrils he could do without, but he was grateful that the salt did not sting his eyes.
For all the color and smoke he'd seen while running away from Iyrodenin, the visibility below the waves was stellar. Though the red from above the surface did seep into the water. He spotted two Staryu spinning about near the seafloor farther away in some incomprehensible dance. Then he noticed the blurring of water that kept stretching between them, marking the use of an underwater Water Gun. Wartortle propelled himself away from the battle before he got caught up in it. The battle with Moltres and heat of the eruption had drained him enough.
He was delighted to find that he could produce an underwater Water Gun of his own without using the water from his own body. Even after so long, and with no practice, the lessons of Keel the Marshtomp below the ferry came back to him with ease. He was even more delighted to find that his stream was far more controlled and forceful than those of the Staryu. Peering out to the red-tinged deeper waters, he spotted multiple dark shapes engaged in battle. They had bulbous bodies with long, swaying limbs. Tentacool? Octillery? Wartortle was interested to find out what sea Pokémon lived in these waters so far from Unova, but he needed to maintain a low profile. If he became too weakened in a fight, or even knocked out, Quil would go crazy with worry over what had happened to him beneath the waves.
The fight-or-flight instincts of these wild Pokémon are roused by the 'storm', just as I witnessed on my first day as a Squirtle, he thought after settling back down on the sandy bottom. The sea is no exception.
By a casual motion of his right hand and foot, he flipped himself belly-up to stare upward. The texture of the ocean's surface distorted the clouds, presenting any curious marine life with a scene straight out of a nightmare. The night sky was not the calm black it should have been. No moonbeams shone down into the sea. Instead, smoke roiled and an infernal red glow pervaded everything. Like the world above was ending in a fiery blaze, and the ocean was doomed to boil away.
I can only imagine how awful this must be for Pokémon susceptible to fire and heat, like Grass-types. Although, I suppose the heat is far more intense here due to the volcano's proximity. I would hope the grass of Blind Prairie so far away isn't spontaneously combusting. He frowned. Still, I'm sure this boost will be the cause of many fires tonight. And not only because of the heat.
Wartortle continued to wait beneath the surface in contemplation as the weather effects of the boost slowly subsided. Sleepiness threatened to make cotton of his mind, but he remained vigilant of his surroundings in order to evade potential combatants. Noticing approaching Pokémon was far easier in the empty ocean, he found, than almost anywhere on land. He popped his head out once for a few breaths of fresh, albeit hot air, and caught a glimpse of the volcano over the rolling waves.
The column of black smoke still rose from the peak into the faux clouds, but it was now dark and stagnant. The red and orange rivulets of lava on the slope were back, though even the black rock of the slopes glowed from heat. The entire volcano itself had been reconstructed. The mountain was much thicker, and the base of the eastern slope was farther east than it had been before the eruption. The portion of the desert that he and Quil had ran through to escape the eruption was now mostly covered in the black of cooled lava flows. Had they not ran when they did, and with speed, the lava would have covered them too.
Some minutes later, the overcast skies lost their ruddy luster. The clouds softened to an indistinct haziness. Wartortle stuck his head out to find the air was only as warm as the day. He withdrew into his shell in the shallows and allowed a wave to roughly deposit him onto the beach. Much as if he'd had a relaxing bath at the end of a long day of work as a human, he was now very ready for bed.
Quil was waiting atop a small sand dune near the beach as he'd said. Strangely, the Quilava was smiling even before he noticed a dripping Wartortle climbing up the sand toward him. His smile deepened into a grin when his eyes found Wartortle's. Not the sigh or relief or sleepy look he'd expected.
"Wartortle, I'm glad you're okay. I could feel how hot it was during the eruption." An undercurrent of excitement ran beneath his words.
"Thanks. I'm happy to see you doing well, too. Though, I'm not surprised, considering fire is..." He froze, a few steps from the top of the dune. That was the source of Quil's elation. The boost. Wartortle eyed the flames atop Quil's head. They appeared to be normal.
"...your element," he finished. Quil nodded, still wearing the smile.
"I don't have to feel inferior anymore, Wartortle. I don't have to feel worthless. Because I'm not, not anymore." His eyes shone with inner fire. "You don't know what it was like, having an older brother so much tougher than you. So much better than you. Having your father shaking his head in disapproval when he thought you weren't looking."
"Quil?" asked Wartortle. He climbed the rest of the way but found himself standing a bit farther away from his friend than normal.
"You know I never wanted to leave on my Pilgrimage. I always wanted to be able to live my life however I want. Not needing to strengthen my body or see the world. I wished I could shrug off everyone's overbearing, stupid expectations." He chuckled. Quil had never chuckled like that before.
"Now I don't need to worry. Watch this."
He dug his forepaws into the sand on the dune's crest, facing the ocean. Wartortle took a few steps backward as he watched the familiar inhalation, a wind-up for the Ember technique. Quil's mouth glowed with fire. He let loose.
A myriad of embers shot forth, at least five times as many as Quil had ever produced in one go. These were not the bright red motes of light that Wartortle had grown used to seeing. These had white-hot cores that left fiery trails of red in the air. Dark spots danced in his vision from the embers' afterimage. They did not flurry outward in elegant spirals, but instead streaked toward the sea in straight lines and with a speed that Wartortle would never have expected.
The embers pelted a cresting wave with audible reports, but the sound was immediately lost in the fiery explosions that resulted. The wave was blown apart into foam and droplets from the countless detonations, clearing the way for more embers to rain furiously down upon the water behind the wave. From the explosions, pillars of dense flame stretched upward, shedding curls of hot steam as they grew. For a moment, the sea itself was aflame. Reflected light shimmered yellow on the tidewater. Wartortle turned his face aside as a wave of heat rolled up the dune. The light died with the flames, leaving bubbling white water where the embers had landed.
Quil looked at him with mirth shining through his face and posture. He did not appear to notice Wartortle's distance or anxious expression. Wartortle chose his next words with great care.
"That's very impressive Quil. You shouldn't feel inferior. That fire is going to be very helpful on our way to Articuno if any wild Pokémon try to stop us."
"Yeah!" Quil said, a grin on his short snout again after seeing the fiery explosions on the water. "Nothing will stop us!"
"It's been a long day. I'm going to get some sleep Quil, if that's okay with you?"
Quil nodded, distracted. "Sure. Oh, I'll join you later, I don't think I can sleep."
A few minutes later, Wartortle lay himself down in the depression he'd dug next to a sand-colored rock behind the dune. He closed his eyes and withdrew into his shell. Even so, the hungry light of Quil's repeated Ember attacks flashed through his eyelids.