The Fires Below

Few other choices remained before us; we had to venture into the Old Town. The place was haggard and ramshackle, as much from old age and disrepair as from our earlier bombardment. The air seemed to simmer, and I felt a sensation as if fingernails skittering down the length of my dorsals. None of us had any desire to linger long.
 
We made it to the destroyed fountain unmolested. Five tunnels lay before us, gaping mouths poised to swallow us whole. Some had even collapsed. I wondered—was such obstruction a consequence of our artillery barrage, or a calculated effort to check our advance? There was a stirring in the air, a sensation which pulled at me through the gaps in the fallen rubble; we would have to push through the detritus, make our way into the dark. Back towards Del’Orta.
 
Great Spirits! I can only hope my stay in this hive is nearing its conclusion. I am glad for the companions I have met along the way, but I’ve slain enough pirates for a lifetime.
 
As we ventured further down, the air became thick with heat and smoke. A wistful admiration came over me of Lord Fraxiros’ scarlet heritage—he would have remained unbothered down here, so hot that the dark air shimmered. But I am not of such ancestry, nor should I aspire to be what I am not. Not in that way, at least.
 
Making our way through the dark, we came upon another collapsed aperture, and on the other side, a hallway roaring with fire. Beyond that, a vast precipice which seemed as if someone who tumbled haplessly into it would fall to the center of the earthly sphere itself. A feeling of trepidation took root in my heart. One wrong move in my weakened state, and I could be overwhelmed by flames, or strangled by smoke. One slip, one tumble, and my journey would meet a violent end.
 
Orlando, with his typical audacity, did not seem perturbed. In fact, as I watched from my perch on the other side of the rubble, he wrestled through and strode straight across the blaze. I watched in awe—I knew of some sort of blessing he carried with him, but a feat of this nature? It was beyond words. I watched as flames clawed at him and the thick smoke clouded him, and still he carried on, barely flinching. I knew then, truly, that the Great Spirits were with all of us—but I could not yet shake the sense of fragility I felt. Finally, I used my grapple to swing to the other side of the hallway, at the edge of the precipice where Orlando now stood. As I did so, his brow furrowed with effort and he actually managed to quell the inferno as I passed over. It was not to last, though; as we attempted to spirit Nobler on over, Orlando lost control and my grapple lost its grip, sending our friend tumbling through the fire and nearly being consumed! My heart leapt out of my throat for but a moment before I was by his side, batting at the fire which licked at him. He was singed, his fur almost comically frizzled and smoking, but he was alive.
 
So it would appear, were some old adversaries of ours. As Orlando shouted above the fires to be heard, we saw from the other side the silhouette of a ruffian we’d met a few times before: Tusk. But he was with the Maycomb pirates… What did they know of this assault? Why was a procession of them now marching out of the other side of this precipice, making their way towards the surface? How had they crossed the abyss? Any questions I had were consumed by what Tusk yelled back at us:
 
An old adversary waited for us, further within. The dead, undying. Blasphemy done against the harmony of the Great Spirits in order to halt our progress. I would not let whatever horror lurked within this grotto crawl out again. Despite my loathing for these pirates… I was still wounded, and I had no idea where these dark, burning caverns would lead us.
 
We delved further, into shadow. The tunnels here were crumbling, every patch of earth on the brink of collapse, seizing beneath our feet. As we passed through this desolate place, its nature became clear—it was a coal mine, abandoned, its dark blood smouldering in its veins. A single wrong move, an excited breath on my part or a twitch of the mind on Orlando’s part or a claw of Nobler’s skittering off the wrong surface, would send us all up in flames.
 
As it turned out, that is exactly what happened. Making our way through the twisting mines, we chanced across the dead body of a Red Devil, eviscerated on the spot. Seeing it, Orlando, assuming it would reinvigorate like a number of others we’ve encountered, wasted no time in enveloping it with a jet of flame from his rifle.
 
Now, I cannot say his suspicion was unfounded, or even unwise. But his resulting action proved to make things very, very dangerous as the tunnel we were standing in, thick with unmined coal, erupted like a hellmouth, and with only a moment’s hesitation we were rushing back out to the central chamber from whence we came. I am thankful for my magitech grapple—it spared me many times from being consumed by fire or swallowed by the dark abyss of these dilapidated caverns.
 
After shaking ourselves off and wracking our brains a moment for the best way forward, we delved back in. Again, into the dark, into the maze, into this perpetually-smoldering hellscape with nowhere to move and no clear destination, drained and harried. Would this even aid my mission? Would this even get me where I needed to go? I would have wasted my soul if I were to die there, underground, in the burning dark. When our feet carried us blindly to another dead end, a crow’s nest wrought in twisted metal, I practically turned back all at once. Now, there were dark powers again present which we had no true idea how to confront, especially not in our weakened states.
 
I might have left, fled the stifling tunnels to the surface where I might await the coming Crossbone Council. I might have left, had it not been for my friends. For there was Orlando, weaving inspired words and charging me with determination. There was rugged Nobler, who had simply grit his teeth and pushed forward no matter the toll on his mind and body. Here were people I had weathered tempests with, ready, against all confusion and doubt, to press forward into the unknown. And here was an unholy enemy who tampered with life and death itself and had been following us the length of our journey, presenting itself to me proudly, and I wished to turn back?
 
I thrust my blade into this profane icon and uttered an oath to the Great Spirits. Despair would not seize my heart today.
 
We found our way to the belly of the mine, and, ahead, I heard the clashing of blades. I was simply a ghost among shadows as I slipped through the dark—when two Red Devils ran by us, I blindsided one in hopes of interrogating him about what lay ahead, but such was the terror which propelled him that he slipped through my grasp. I got a general sense of what stood before me as I proceeded down the hallway: broken bodies lay strewn about the place in pools of blood, butchered very, very recently. My friends were behind me as I stepped across the threshold into a large chamber, and saw before me a familiar face.
 
Or, rather, what remained of a familiar face. Just as Tusk had promised, a ghost from our past stood before us in this vast cavern, hunched over a corpse. Nar’Shen. But not as he had been—his body was twisted and scarred, his limbs mangled and emaciated, marked by old wounds I had dealt, and his head… his head had sprouted a beak of twisted bone, like some freak mutation. His body was draped in a dark cloak which I realized with a start were ragged feathers. He had taken on the aspect of the crow, revived as Gaku had been. Getting the drop on him would be essential to winning, as I had before. I had no time to wait. If Nobler and Orlando startled him, the advantage would be lost. And so, steadying myself with the breathing techniques Master Izem had taught me, I crept forward, took aim… and let fly my rash’tam from my hand.
 
Eternity seemed to pass as it spiraled end over end, its gleam flickering off the rivulets of coal which streaked the cavern…
 
… And like a flash of lightning, like a wave crashing upon the shore, it found its mark, burying itself in the montrosity’s head.
 
And then all hell broke loose.
 
Nobler and Orlando rushed in as my attack staggered this once-Nar’Shen, and they readied their weapons (and instruments) as I stared this creature down. As I locked my gaze on it, I let loose a roar which sent lightning arcing towards it, and the ground beneath it burst into flame, the coal ignited by my fury. As it was about to move towards me, Orlando’s drums beat yet again and I saw, just for a moment, a haze wash over it. I charged.
 
The Nar’Shen-thing fought with whirling torches and its cruel beak, the latter of which I could just barely deflect and the former of which were tossed gleefully about the room, hedging us in fire. Very well, I thought. Two can play at that game. When it retreated for a moment, I hurled my last torch after it; arson is one of an infiltrator’s most useful tools. It hardly reacted as the fires behind it roared, lapping at its feathers. a wall of fire separated myself and my companions, a barrier which Nobler leapt through moments later when his firearms let him down. His true prowess lies in unarmed combat, where he may bring his Haretal-blessed might to bear in full force.
 
Together, we closed in on our twisted foe. Orlando’s drums had ceased their sway over him, and we found ourselves in a pitched battle as each side struggled to wear the other down. I barely avoided several blows, as the flames closed in and my scales began to radiate enough warmth to incubate an egg. A brutal strike from Nobler sent the creature reeling, and I realized that the body of the former Nar’Shen itself had been practically torn apart—more crowlike features burst eagerly forth from the shell, and its fiery dance intensified.
 
Each side was on its last legs, and now I wove desperately between nimble talons to find the opening which would end the fight. Izem had taught me and Hikari and Amiri had shown me: I battle, whenever possible, must be ended in a single, decisive blow. I darted around this beast, desperate to find the opening to do so. My kesh’tam flashed as I hacked at our foe, and Nobler’s snarls echoed in the darkness. Nobler landed a resounding blow, and the fiend’s defenses seemed broken. I rushed in, ready to deliver the strike which would smite the profane monstrosity.
 
As suddenly as the opening had appeared, it closed, and I was met with a gnashing beak barreling towards me, driven by an unearthly speed and force.
 
I don’t remember the impact. Light speckled my vision like flower blossoms, as if I had dug my knuckles into my eyes. I saw the courtyard of the Pavilion of the Wayfarer, spring. Nori Igrin-Senhotep, muttering an underhanded comment about my father’s relationship with Munirah, the White Tear. I heard myself rearing to my full height, challenging him. I saw his eyes, narrowed to slits as he sized me up, our hands at our sheathes. His hand twitched on his hilt—I watched, sure I would register any movement. I saw the wind shake the trees, I saw the bright leaves fall. We charged. my kesh’tam leapt from my sheath, eager to strike true. I was not ready. I was so fixed on his hands, obscured by the sleeves of his blue-and-orange robes, that I never noticed them dart from his sleeves to draw and strike at an angle from which I was entirely vulnerable. I saw my blood, glittering in the air like so many scattered jewels.
 
And I felt that old pain shoot through that scar on my arm as I jolted awake, the last searing trickle of a healing elixir splashing down my throat and blossoming in my chest. Orlando hovered over me, eyes wide. His robes were caked in soot. But I… I was alive. As was our enemy, if barely. Nobler had held his own as Orlando attended me, and I watched as he brought the Nar’Shen-thing to its knees. Blow after blow rained down on it, but it shook them off, somehow, and the fires were raging all around us, consuming everything. Soon, we would be cooked alive. The creature’s eyes popped in its sockets as Orlando took his go, but his rifle shot went wide—the thing was just too nimble. We began to retreat from the room, pursued by the wall of fire and the slavering crow-monster. It lurched out of the way of bullets, brushed aside claw strikes. How could we break its defense?
 
The answer came to me all at once. I used my magitech frame to launch myself over the wall of fire, and finally got a clear shot at the thing. My explosive movement jostled my aim, but I wasn’t aiming to hit it with this strike.
 
Again, my rash’tam spiralled end over end, streaking towards the fiend. I saw it lock its eye on the blade and twist out of the way, feathers scattering sparks as they rustled. And as its gaze was fixed on my rash’tam, my grapple caught its chin, shattering what remained of its beak, and with a pneumatic screech, reeled the thing into my waiting blade. It twitched for but a moment before falling still, and I wrenched my sword free. For the glory of the Great Spirits. I hope he stays dead this time.
 
We wasted no time scrambling back through the mine’s corridors as the fires chased us out, a hair’s-breadth behind us at every step. The three of us emerged at the surface, bruised and bloodied, at the other end of the crevasse which had barred our passage. Before us were… slain Flynns?? It could not be! And yet it was. Out of the fire, and into another fire—and yet, precisely the one in which I wished to be. Just the trial I had sought to face, from the moment I reached Del’Orta. My tenacity had guided me to the very place I had been seeking all along, the heart of my objective, the gauntlet at the end of which lay my ultimate prize:
 
We had reached the lair of the Flying Flynns.
 
May the Great Spirits watch me through the gleam of my sword, enlighten me in the hidden places of the world, guide me in the words of the strangers I've yet to make familiar, and bless me in the light of sun and moon. May they walk in the stride of those I walk amongst, and touch the world through the hands of my companions. May their deeds echo in my actions and their will echo in my wishes. May I honor them in the paths I follow and the waters I tread and the mountains I climb. I am but a transient pilgrim walking the tracks of this past and future world, my blood the blood of my lord and my father and my people.