The Hybrid: Chasing Destiny (Chp10:Ep6)

Chapter 10

Episode 6 - Fields of Flame

Caeden rushed through the wall of fire and quickly took cover behind some igneous rock, Oswin following suit. Tendrils of cold relief curled through his body as it relaxed.  He had faith that the mage would see them through their first obstacle. His pyromancy had no equal in the Empire, even among sorcerers who could wield the magic flame. But how it would hold up against the Spirit of Fire itself, Caeden admitted that a sliver of doubt had entered his mind.

Oswin’s barrier flickered unstably before his eyes for a time, then stopped. He had assumed the heat from within the fields would be unbearable, far more intense than the heat without, but he was pleasantly surprised that the opposite was the case. Caeden could scarcely feel any discomfort; even the weight of it, a burden he had not noticed he was carrying before, was gone.

“Huh,” Oswin exclaimed softly as he studied the barrier around his arms with great interest.

“What is it?” Caeden whispered.

“The wall changed some of the properties of my barrier. It feels lighter but tougher and it drains on my magical reserves more efficiently. Most frustrating to know that I have manifested my barriers wastefully all this time,” he replied, with a chastened expression, which quickly changed into quiet contemplation.

“I wonder… Perhaps I can now manage to summon a replacement for our dear Ser Morley.”

The mage encircled his forearms, then pulled his hands apart as if tearing at an invisible cloth before ending the motion with a flourish toward the area they were facing. Caeden recognised the motion immediately. Oswin was summoning his fire elemental.

They had initially planned the spell as a last resort should events go sideways here, since summoning the construct was a huge magical drain and often winded Oswin in the best of times. But he was not going to question him. He trusted the mage to know his own capabilities better than anyone. Besides, they needed the extra firepower now that they had a clearer picture of the horde that lay ahead.

A swirl of embers circled, quickening and increasing as the elemental took shape. But instead of the voluptuous woman bathed in red and orange flame that Oswin preferred to summon, an orange salamander the size of his forearm plopped to the ashen floor. Yellow licks of pressurised flame flickered out periodically from various dark spots along its back. Along the sides of its head, three blue flames licked out from hollow spouts. Its eyes were whorls of the same shifting blue fire. They held an uncanny intelligence behind them as the creature stared at them curiously. A curiosity that made Caeden uneasy. This creature did not seem to be a mere construct following Oswin’s directive.

It took off in the opposite direction and away from where they hoped to skirt past the marching horde, leaving footprints of fire in its wake. It stopped, looked back and waited.

Puzzled, he raised a querying brow at his magical advisor. “What in Holden’s name is going on with your elemental, Oswin?”

Oswin huffed a frazzled laugh, utterly dumbfounded by what he had summoned.

“That, Your Grace, is not an elemental. Not… in the manner you think. That might just be an actual Fire Salamander.”

Oswin swallowed nervously. He was so confused by what had occurred that he was at a complete loss for words, shrinking further against the rock to avoid the creature’s fiery gaze.

If Caeden recalled correctly, Fire Salamanders were extraplanar beings. Deceptively powerful ones. An elemental familiar favoured among Pyromancers before the Magic Spirit disappeared from the mortal realm. Afterwards, they, along with the other elemental familiars, became a rarity and eventually retreated from Archaicron altogether when the leaching occurred. Even with his limited magical knowledge, their summoning was thought to be impossible among any wielders now and they were well on their way to becoming myths in the Knight’s Guild’s teachings. For Oswin to summon one, by mistake no less, beggared belief.

“You… summoned a fey creature? How?” Caeden asked with a little more incredulity than he intended.

“I thought it was just the connection with a wall that disrupted my barriers. But as I was summoning… I felt the disruption again and the spell changed my request for a construct to a familiar. I cannot quite pin it down, but I think I feel the Fire Spirit’s influence in my spells. At the very least, being in its domain is affecting my magic, making it more efficient. Focused. Intense,” the mage smirked as he stared keenly at his hand.

He had seen that expression before but not on Oswin’s face. He learned to recognise it very quickly as a royal. The expression of a man gaining unmatched power after being starved of it his whole life. Caeden knew if Oswin did not gain a hold of himself, he would become the very man he despised.

Caeden placed a firm hold on his man’s shoulder and shook him gently.

“Oswin, keep your head. While I am glad for this advantage, we do not yet know how it will affect you at the tail end of this mission. Use it with care,” Caeden prodded calmly.

“Yes...” Oswin affirmed, shaking his head as if to shake the fog that had clouded it. “Yes, your Grace, I must not get ahead of myself.

“It wants us to follow,” he said, pointing to the waiting Salamander.

Caeden dithered and looked at the path they had planned out. The infected dead shambled along the roads to the red mountain in mass. The roads they needed to cross to get to the mining town at the mountain’s base. Even if they skirted along the outer edges of the horde, there was no way they could avoid some of the stragglers. Skirmishes were inevitable. Enough of them could tire them out quickly or draw the bulk of the horde.

He tracked the movement of the horde into the distance and wondered if the Fire Spirit would keep against its number. It seemed to be holding its own by flinging balls of flaming rock at its base. But nothing it had done so far had matched the intense violet stream it had used against the Guild’s binding barrier when they had first entered Daaria. The Wyvern was indeed growing weaker, and its conquest had become a possibility.

There was another way, a less risky way, but looking for an entrance amidst this chaos would waste precious time. But if the salamander knew the way, perhaps humouring it was the best way forward.

“Do you trust that creature?” he asked Oswin.

“I am not party to its full motivations yet, but at the moment, it seems to share the same directive as us – or the directive of the Fire Spirit, to be more exact. Yes, I… trust it,” Oswin responded. He averted his eyes at the last two words.

 Oswin doubted it but was willing to take the risk. In the end, who better knows the lay of the land than the Fire Spirit itself?

“Then follow we shall,” Caeden moved to his feet and followed the salamander.

It skittered across the ash plains and travelled in a northeasterly direction for about an hour. Any infected stragglers the Salamander stumbled across, it simply sidestepped and ignored, leaving the afflicted for Caeden and Oswin to take down.

They had yet to spy a single Ash Fiend, though. Rumours of their sightings placed them higher up on the Red Mountain. Perhaps they were too far from its base. But Caeden could not fully ignore their potential threat. Not here, where the very air was ash and ember.

In the time between these afflicted attacks, Caeden had time to think, to worry about the nagging in his brain. Yes, the demonkin’s illusion has fooled us all, but where did all these infected come from? Surely, this many missing people would have raised alarm enough for the kings and the Crown to intervene. Why were they not informed?

The salamander stopped and circled, its tail brushing away heavy ash until its footsteps echoed on wooden and hollowed earth. The surroundings were a blast area. The ground was blackened and scuffed with scorch marks in a near-perfect circle. A mix of charred flesh and rot carried on the hot wind.

A mass of desiccated afflicted littered the area, caught by one of the Fire Spirit’s fireballs. They remained in place as charred and haunting statues.

Caeden dropped to the ground beside the salamander, and it immediately skittered away. He brushed away the remaining dirt and ash with Oswin's assistance and unearthed a hatch in the ground. No obvious markings in its surroundings gave away its presence there. They would never have found this any other way.

He huffed an excited laugh. Not only had they taken down the heads of The Marketplace, but they now had an entrance to their network of tunnels. The black market that had preyed on and plagued his people was well and truly finished here.

The latch had melted into its clasp, but the wooden panels had burnt and warped in the heat. It was easy enough to break apart with his foot. The salamander skittered to the opening he made and fell through, landing down below with a plop. The light of its fire gave Caeden a clear view of the tunnel down and the steel ladder welded to its side.

At the sight of its depth, Caeden’s heart dropped and the skin on his back crawled. Cold shards of ice ran through his body, freezing it in place with fear. His palms grew clammy and shook with dread. His lungs burned as he struggled to take in air. He tried to convince himself that he was being ridiculous and willed his body to move but the thought of being trapped down there again gnawed at it with greater ferocity and kept him rooted in place.

Oswin noticed his trepidation but said nothing, only moving to clamber down the ladder first. The mage's valour emboldened him, and Caeden’s courage returned, building slowly within him. Once Oswin reached the bottom, he scanned the area and listened.

“This section looks abandoned, Your Grace!” he reported. “The structure is sturdy and well-maintained. It almost looks… dwarven?”

Caeden heaved a bracing breath and forced himself to climb down after Oswin, shoving the fear to the far reaches of his mind. It was still there, clawing at his fragile resolve, but it was not crippling his movements anymore.

The salamander started into motion again, giving them little time to take in their surroundings and get their bearings. It rushed ahead, skittering through various tunnels, passing through what seemed to be an empty showroom, down one passageway and up another. Some looked scorched, like fires had broken out. Deep and long, they travelled until Caeden could no longer fathom where they were within the tunnels or above them. No option left to them but to move forward, following the whims of a fey creature.

It slowed down suddenly, and its bright fire dimmed. It stalked forward tentatively as if sensing a predator close by until its flame petered out entirely, leaving them in darkness. The only light source came from a room up ahead. Muffled voices were drifting to them from inside. Oswin whined with disquiet and his robes ruffled behind him.

“Oswin?” Caeden whispered, squinting to try to find the silhouette of the mage in the dark.

“I am fine, Your Grace. I will cover your back,” Oswin whispered with a slight tremor.

Caeden inched toward the doorway, close enough to hear the conversation.

“Argh! Why can’t we go topside just for a little bit?” a cracking voice whined in desperate frustration.

“If you want to go get turned around in that mind fog, go ahead,” a gruff voice grumbled irritably in response. “No? Then stop whining! Just because I don’t want to kill you doesn’t mean I ain’t partial to taking out your tongue. We’ll leave once we get a new job order direct from that would-be noble!”

“Damn, Greer, he said we’d only be stealing people for the rebellion. Said the mind fog was only to blind folk on the outside. Nothing about it trapping us on the inside.”

“Didn’t think he knew, or him and his crew wouldn’t have gone and joined ‘the rebellion’ topside. Now shut it, moan about it one more time and I’ll cut you!”

Caeden’s jaw stiffened from anger. He hazarded a peek into the interior, committing its layout to memory. Just the two men were there. One was short and stocky, peeling an apple with a well-maintained dagger and the other tall and lanky. Both sat opposite each other at a central table illuminated by candlelight and laden with food in what looked like a deserted tavern. Judging by the state of the area, they had been staying here for quite some time, a stay that was starting to wear on their minds. Their frustration and irritation were visible in their every movement.

It was clear that the stocky man was the greater threat and the first of the two he would need to take out. Caeden nodded to Oswin, indicating that he had seen all that he needed and was taken aback at first to find the salamander curled around the back of the mage’s head. Its beady, black eyes shone in the dim light atop his crown and moist feet gripped his temples and jaw. Oswin looked discomforted but did not let it stop him from pressing forward.

With a beckoning of his hand, Oswin snuffed out all sources of flame in the room and Caeden pushed past him into its interior. He made a beeline for the shorter man.

“Gods dammit! If it ain’t the mind fog, then it’s the fire acting strange. Get the lights, boy,” he heard him say before he grabbed the man’s head and twisted it. The sounds of his neck cracking echoed in the darkness before the body fell to the ground.

Caeden looked for the silhouette of the lanky man, sneaking around the table to where he had heard him move to stand and walk a few paces.

“Bekker?”

It was enough to pin his location; Caeden zeroed in on the sound, finding his silhouette. He unsheathed Ava’s sword and pushed into the man, pinning him against the wall with his forearm to his collarbone and the blade tip pointing to his chest. One thrust away from entering his heart.

“Get off, bastard!” he spat angrily, pushing fruitlessly against Caeden’s arm.

Oswin entered the room behind him and reignited the candles. Caeden watched the expression change from angry annoyance to suspicious curiosity. He could be no younger than 15 or 16 but still old enough to know better. And this one was wily. Caeden could see the wheels spinning as he took in their armour and garb. What game would he play, I wonder.

“Help me, please! Ser…” His blue eyes filled with innocence and tears as he waited for Caeden to give him his name.

“Your Grace,” Oswin offered in his stead.

It was meant to be helpful, but Oswin’s dry tone confused the boy more about their motives and intent. His eyes widened in shock as he realised who he was dealing with, replaced quickly by an uncertain frown. He swallowed nervously, thinking.

“Your Grace, Bekker’s kept me here for months, said if I ever leave, he’ll kill me. I only wanted a job. To earn my keep. I didn’t know what they were doing until it was too late to escape!”

His voice trembled, breaking from his frightful tears. Ah, the oblivious youth in over his head. Caeden wondered how many times he had used this particular ploy to talk his way out of trouble. Though he should realise by now that he was nearing an age where it would no longer be an effective tactic, especially in the face of the crimes he had been party to.

“Calm, boy. I have questions; answer true and I will consider mercy,” Caeden responded.

He removed his forearm from the boy’s neck and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat before placing a firm but less threatening grip on the curve between his shoulder and neck.

Much to his delight, the boy nodded vigorously, ever eager to be of assistance. Where lies no longer work, the truth may inch you closer to freedom. We shall have to see just how far his ignorance extends.

 ...

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