Valentin had moved to lay flat on his stomach, his shield dug into the ground in front of him to protect him from any subsequent waves of heat and rock and wind. Scattering of rocks and pebbles clattered off the surface, creating an accompanying rhythm to the rain that fell above them. The sheer quantity of water created massive puddles that partially submerged everything in the early flood.
Tucked under his arm beside him was Maeve. She lied anxiously, seeing if she could spot anyone else through the steam and the rain. If she does, Valentin had told her the words that she need to shout to his warriors to have them regroup and hunker down nearby to await further orders.
“This was your idea?” Valentin questioned his ancestor dubiously.
Do you have a better plan? Even if you run, this spirit is going to incinerate the entire region. Just listen to my wisdom.
“Fine,” Valentin conceded. He did not have any ideas. “Have you ever done this before?”
Of course not. But, I was taught the theory. It actually isn’t all that difficult to release a blast of lightning from your body. It’s the after-effects that you will need to be wary of. Now focus on your cycling of favor.
Valentin sighed and began to enter a meditative-like trance. It took a few moments to reach the ideal condition. His mind probed his body to feel the favor that flowed throughout his body like he had when he first mastered how to cycle his favor. It sparked in thin streams that flowed through his limbs and back into his heart.
Now, choose a focal point to siphon a small portion of favor every cycle until I say you are done. I recommend your left pointer finger.
“Why there?” Valentin asked.
Three reasons. The first is that fingers make for good repositories for favor. Second, your left hand is closer to your heart than your right. Third, if this goes poorly, you’ll still want to be able to use your weapon wielding arm.
Each heartbeat, Valentin actively concentrated on diverting some of his favor into his finger. He felt it begin to pulse as the distillation of power became more potent. Unlike focusing favor into a limb, which became second nature, a singular appendage seemed too small to contain such immense strength and he had to clench his teeth and focus to keep it in place. His face contorted into frustration. Every time he added favor, a little slipped out and back into his bloodstream.
The measured approach was not working. His inward focus made him blind to what was happening around him. As such, Valentin’s mind was distracted with preparing for the next wave of Aoire’s heat and wondering about the status of his deg.
There was no time to do it properly, they’d all die at this rate. He cycled recklessly, taking in larger and larger amounts of favor and forcing into his finger. Even if some managed to slip out, the intake would be far larger. He kept going until his finger numbed, feeling like it was full of angry stinging hornets. It vibrated and pulsed with energy, threatening to explode if it took more.
But he kept going. His ancestor had yet to halt him. There must be more room, some extra bit of tolerance that he had yet to account for. Feeling that it had to be close, he pushed one last, massive amount of favor into his finger before clamping around it with his other hand.
Well done. Now, we need to get close enough to unleash it.
Valentin finally moved from his prone position, startling Maeve. Without the ability to use his hands, he labored himself awkwardly to his feet. Debris buffeted his body and plinked off of his mask as he took several steps forwards.
“Deggan Valentin, what are you doing?” Renne’s voice called out.
Valentin looked behind him to see numerous shields embedded into the ground with Renne’s head poking out from behind one of them. The warriors, both his own and Vtorak’s, rallied and created a stout defensive position to keep them alive for the time being.
Now that the initial blast of steam had dissipated, Valentin could see the battlefield again. The groups around him were in similar positions; hopelessly dug in without any confidence to advance or retreat. He saw the bodies of those that were unable to defend themselves from the attack scattered about in the violent wind. Spiritual flames wreathed their bodies as Aoire absorbed their essence.
The Northern Flank had completely crumbled. Aoire’s ire had incapacitated, killed, or removed any that stood there. The lone exception was Prince Ostramir. His icy armor, constantly replenished by the gracious rain of Telgrig, continued to shield him from the worst of Aoire’s flames. The spirit, dissatisfied that there was still a lone person that did not cower, focused its attention solely on the prince. Heavy slams and bursts of flame were paired with the assault of wind.
However, it seemed that the flooding of its domain kept Aoire from delivering any more all-encompassing attacks. Instead, his heat seemed to be funneling through the ground and into his form, sustaining his infernal aura. Whether it was gathering the energy required for the next big attack of it was weakened from the previous attacks, it was all the same to Valentin. He needed to move while he had the chance.
“Deggan Valentin?” Renne asked again.
“I have a way to hurt Aoire,” Valentin responded definitively. While he himself was not confident, he could not waver now. “Is Cathmor here?”
“Yes, Deggan Valentin!” Cathmor called from a nearby shield.
“Grab a javelin and get over here!” Valentin ordered. “We’re going to finish this!”
Cathmor scurried from behind his safe position, lone weapon in hand. There was no trace of fear on his face. Instead, excitement was all that existed. The words that Valentin spoke was the medicine that he needed to face anything head on.
“What about us?” Renne questioned. “What do we need to do?”
“You need to stay put!” Valentin replied. “It’s going to be dangerous and I am not certain it will work perfectly. If you’re too close, then you won’t be able to retr-“
Valentin felt a sharp pull from behind him, throwing him off balance. He felt his grip on his charged finger loosen ever so slightly before he desperately pinched it back down. A sizable rock flew by where his head was just a second before.
“Are you alright, Deggan Valentin?” Cathmor asked, letting go of his leader.
“Yes,” Valentin reassured. “Everything is still fine.”
“Form up!” Renne ordered to the rest. “We need to shield the deggan so that he can do what he needs to!”
One by one, the shields were pulled from the ground and arranged in front of and above Valentin and Cathmor. Even Vtorak’s warriors filled the gaps with their shields. Druids and zhrets bundled themselves behind the formation.
“We are doomed if we stay put and our pride as warriors would be nonexistent if you succeed while we hide,” Vtorak explained to Valentin without any prompt. “Whatever it is that you’re trying, it better work.”
Step by step, the turtle shell shaped formation moved forwards. Interlocked arms and shields split the winds. Through the tiny gaps in the round shields, they could see Aoire’s figure looming every larger. The temperature rose slightly with every step, but it was not nearly as unbearable as it was earlier.
This is far enough. You’ll need to be by yourself if you don’t want anyone to be caught in it.
“Halt!” Valentin ordered. “Cathmor and I will move just a little further ahead.”
Valentin and Cathmor departed from their protected position. Fresh heat coated their bodies and weakened their muscles. Cathmor moved his body in front of Valentin, prepared to deflect any projectiles that his leader was incapable of blocking.
They moved about twenty paces in front of the formation until Valentin stopped them. He stepped to the side of Cathmor and stuck his arms out in front of him.
“Move a bit away from me,” Valentin instructed Cathmor. “When you see the flash of light, attack the bird.”
“Yes, Deggan Valentin,” Cathmor confirmed with a nod before separating himself from his leader. He hoisted the javelin over his shoulder and got into a throwing stance, ready to strike as soon as possible.
Now, all you need to do is point your finger at your target and envision releasing all the pent up favor at them.
Valentin aimed his finger at Aoire’s large figure. Despite the generous target, Valentin narrowed his eyes and calmed his breathing to ensure that there would be no mistakes. He forced his arm to be as rigid as possible, resistant to the gusts and gales that threatened to knock him off course. His finger, cut off from circulation, had become entirely numb. Only the buzzing power that shook Valentin’s right hand informed him that it was still ready.
He took one, final deep breath. In one motion, he released the grip from his right hand and closed his eyes. In his mind, he envisioned it. A bolt of blue-white lightning sprouted from his finger tip. It arched and crackled and burst its way into Aoire’s torso.
A flash of light made him see red and a thunderous boom that sounded like the apocalypse concussed him with massive vibrations. A screaming pain left the base of his finger and traveled the way up his left arm. He felt like his veins were ripping like the seams of a shirt. Hot ropes of favor shot into his heart, forcing him to fall to his knees and clutched his chest with his right hand. His head pressed against the wet ground. His left arm hung limply on his side.
He screamed soundlessly, his moans of agony failing to usurp the tremendous ringing in his ears. Sparks cascaded off of his body, threatening everyone around him with stray strikes that could stop hearts.
His mind slipped in and out of consciousness. The black recesses washed away all the pain that he felt until light and burning and ringing rose back to the surface, making him long to slip away again. He wished to feel nothing, be nothing, until all this subsided. Thoughtlessness played an alluring song in his mind, tempting him to capitulate
Do not succumb! Valentin’s ancestor shouted deep into Valentin’s mind.
Valentin gritted his teeth, willing his body to push back into awareness. It adjusted, growing numb to the agony that gripped him, bringing his senses back to him.
As the ringing subsided, a new sound dominated his ears. The screeching of a wounded animal carried over the winds. Valentin lifted his muddied face to see a javelin extruding from Norbris’ leg. Blood trickled from the wound, but it did not seem fatal. It was unfortunate that Cathmor was unable to deal a lethal blow to the spirit but he could not dwell on those failures.
Another volley must have been loosed during Valentin’s writhing. Numerous arrows and javelins penetrated the ground where the wall of wind had been. Norbris flew higher, out of the range of any stray projectile, allowing Aoire’s flames to dispose of most of them.
While the attack on Norbris did not succeed, Valentin’s own strike had landed true. A line of scorched earth traced the passage of Valentin’s power from the tip of his finger to Aoire’s chest. The rocky body, punctured from the blast, leaked magma and wailing flames. Arcs of lightning raced over Aoire’s body, continuing to sting him continuously.
Aoire groaned, stabilized itself on its massive legs. It dug its hand deep into the ground. He grabbed a great handful of mud and plugged its wound with it. The heat quickly hardened the salve into rock. Just as quickly as it had been wounded, it had recovered.
Valentin felt cold from disappointment. He could see Prince Ostramir on his knees, draped over his axe. He had expended his favor continuously for the entire fight and had also reached his limit.
Though Aoire’s body did not turn, Valentin felt the focus of the fireball drift towards him. However, much to the surprise of both Valentin and Aoire, the spirit did not erupt in anger upon seeing the one that wounded it.
“I know you!” Aoire yelled in shock. “You were there in the woods when I began to truly grow. Where is the other one? I can feel them. I want to hear them.”
Valentin answered Aoire with further grunts of pain. He planted his right arm into the ground and tried to force himself back on his feel. Pinned to his side, his left arm felt like he had shoved it into burning embers. His body ached tremendously as the favor began to recirculate into his body. He got up wobbling before finally finding his balance.
Maeve did not leave the confines of the shield formation. She would not answer Aoire’s summons.
“I see, you do not wish to speak to me,” Aoire remarked directionless. “I do not hate you for it. I am just pleased to know that you are well.”
Aoire lessened his flames and Norbris settled back onto his shoulder. As delicately as a boulder could, he pulled the javelin from Norbris’ leg. The spirit squawked in pain as Aoire’s heated finger cauterized the wound.
The rain subsided. Telgrig rescinded its assistance, the spirit being the first to consider this fight a lost cause.
Aoire’s fireball licked towards the sky in amusement. It turned to face Prince Ostramir, the leader of the subjugation. It towered over Ostramir’s flagging body, continuing to assert its position as the dominant one.
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“It seems as though you have nothing left to fight me with, human,” Aoire commented. “Even Telgrig has abandoned you.”
“You have not won until there is no life left within me!” Prince Ostramir shouted as rose to his feet, lofting his axe over his shoulder. His defiance remained the last bit of light remaining in the subjugation.
“Your tenacity is admirable, but I no longer need you,” Aoire replied.
Prince Ostramir looked at Aoire with a weary expression. Sapped of strength, he could not fully process Aoire’s words.
“You must have forgotten when you flooded my home, but this small battlefield is not the extent of my domain,” Aoire continued. “That while we have been fighting, fresh spirits have continued to nourish me. I just started to extract more and more from them. Not to mention, all of you are quite rich in powerful blood. Since many of your warriors were so magnanimous as to not relent to me in their final moments, they have proven to be the finest fuel. Can you not hear them sustain me?”
“No!” Prince Ostramir called out, falling to his knees.
Aoire spread his arms out. A torrent of flames rose from the ground obscuring it body entirely. The flames formed a wailing pillar that ascended higher and higher into the sky. The small silhouette of Norbris could be seen circling around the pillar, dissipating the flames at the top and spreading them out over the sky.
Fire ceased flowing from the ground, leaving only Aoire’s rocky bones behind. A vast ring of fire spread from the pillar. It seemed to contain the sky itself. The individual screams and wails formed into an immense roaring that was loud enough to be heard from the ground.
“I am Aoire,” the sky boomed, reverberating in the listener’s very bones. “Say my name and I will shepherd you to the beyond.”
The subjugation sat in silence for a moment. They had witnessed a phenomena that not many had ever witnessed, an ascension. However, it was not awe or amazement that raptured them into silence.
“Fuck!” Prince Ostramir screamed in frustration.
Standing before the remnants of the spirit, he brandished his axe over his head and smashed it down into Aoire’s physical remains. Over and over again, he beat the rocks while screaming incoherently. Awful screeching sounds of stone and metal scraping together filled the air. Fragments of stone clattered from the inert stone and sprayed onto the soft ground.
Nobody moved to stop him, nobody could.
With an anguished shout, he threw his axe and stumbled around aimlessly. He dropped to his hands and knees and sucked in air. He pounded his right hand against the ground several times, water splashing off of the impacts.
“Fuck!” Prince Ostramir screamed once more before pressing his head against the ground and heaving.
Valentin was bumped slightly by Vtorak’s warriors as they pushed by him to support their ailing prince.
Unable to assist, Valentin returned to his deg. They stood with their heads lowered and their invisible tails tucked between their legs. As far as they were concerned, they had been entirely useless. Only Cathmor had any achievement to claim. Even that was sullied by the fact that it was not a fatal blow dealt to Norbris.
Nearby, Elder Onora and a pair of druids were praying alongside several zhrets. They murmured words of peace and respite for those that were lost, their souls likely trapped in Aoire’s essence. Valentin could see Maeve amongst them, despondently reciting the words. Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes like light rain.
“Is everyone accounted for?” Valentin asked Renne.
His warriors performed a quick roll call. They clearly repeated their names when called, albeit unenthusiastically.
“Gair, Gélique, and Coralie are missing,” Renne reported, nervousness hung in his voice when he mentioned his missing friend. “We are going form a perimeter and conduct a search immediately.”
“I’ll join you,” Valentin announced, taking an uneven step forwards.
“You should rest here, Deggan Valentin,” Renne rejected lightly. “The others understand that you aren’t in the condition to perform a search. We would all feel a bit more at ease if we knew that you weren’t collapsed somewhere.”
Valentin nodded, trusting Renne to conduct the search himself. He lowered himself to a patch of ground that wasn’t completely flooded and began to sit. His legs gave out beneath him and he buckled to sit awkwardly upon the ground. He stretched out his legs and felt relief intermingle with the pain.
No part of him was spared the violent recoil of his attack. The sharp power had slowly began to cycle back through his body, bringing a burning lump of fiery pain along with it. He tilted his head towards the burning sky above him and exhaled.
“Are you alright, Deggan Valentin?” Elder Onora asked.
“No, but I won’t be dying,” Valentin answered plainly. “Do you have any missing that I should tell Renne to look out for?”
“No,” Elder Onora replied, her eyes downcast. “Despite the efforts of your warriors, I watch them surrender and burn to Aoire’s terrible power.”
“A shame.”
Elder Onora lowered herself next to Valentin. She looked towards the immense blaze in the sky, her eyes trained in intense focus on the remnants of the ascended spirit. Valentin could see rage burn like embers within her eyes. The indignation that she felt on behalf of the fallen unjustly taken seemed to weigh heavily on her.
However, she lacked the energy to maintain her anger. She was doused in the cold water of reality. It was over and there was nothing more that could be done. One could not gain vengeance over the incorporeal.
“They were good people,” Elder Onora spoke to no one in particular.
Valentin didn’t respond. There were no consoling words that he could present that would change anything. He was just tired.
“I spoke to Maeve,” Elder Onora remarked. “She told me about how you met Aoire.”
“Did she?” Valentin returned with a question of his own.
He slowly turned his head to look at Elder Onora’s expression. He maintained his own deadpan appearance until he could decipher the Elder’s intentions.
“Lower your guard,” Elder Onora said. “The spirit that you met those cycles is not the same as the one that appeared before us today. Your meeting did not warp Aoire, the invasion of Torgen did. However, since not everyone is so understanding, I will not share with anyone that you bear any connection to it.”
“I appreciate your discretion, Elder Onora,” Valentin thanked.
“But I did wish to ask you about that attack that you did,” Elder Onora continued. “It is rare to see someone with the ability to unleash something so impressive.”
The comment filled Valentin with dread. Memories of being hunted swam into his mind, disorienting his thoughts with fear. He could not despair, not yet, not while he still had the ability to talk his way away from the conclusion that he feared most. He swallowed his spit and took a couple breaths.
“Anyone can do it,” Valentin responded calmly. “The issue is that most could not survive it.”
“It is rarely taught for that reason,” Elder Onora replied. “Who was it that taught you how to use it?”
“Ferron Martelle did,” Valentin answered much to the chagrin of his ancestor. Fortunately, the mask seemed to behave itself this time. ”I was blessed with much favor, so Ferron deemed it safe to teach me the technique to use in life threatening emergencies. I found today to fit such a description.”
“Ah, so that is why you are a deggan at such a young age,” Elder Onora remarked, mostly to herself.
“If that is all, then I must take my leave,” Valentin announced, worried about any follow-up questions that may cause him to inadvertently expose himself. “Goodbye, Elder Onora.”
“I understand. Good bye, Valentin,” Elder Onora acknowledged, her face drooping down to stare at the ground.
Valentin, without anywhere to actually be, began to wander the battlefield in search of his missing warriors. He walked slowly, ginger steps causing minor bursts of pain to course up his legs.
An iron ball felt like it sat at the bottom of his stomach. Charred hilts of spears cluttered the trodden ground. Scraps of scorched leather and wool sat near heat warped canteens that began to sink into the burbling mud. The bodies of the owners were obliterated in Aoire’s attacks, not even the smallest scrap of the human that owned it remained.
“Deggan Valentin!” Renne called out to him from across the field.
As he hobbled his way towards Renne, he saw several of his warriors surrounding a body on the ground. He tried to quicken his pace, sucking air through clenched teeth to cope with the pain.
On the ground lied an unconscious Gélique. Relief filled Valentin’s heart as he saw the gentle rising and falling of her chest. A water logged wad of cloth was place on her forehead to lower her body temperature.
“She has no visible injuries,” Renne informed Valentin. “It’s likely that she has just passed out from heat and lack of water.”
“That’s relieving to hear. We will all need to make sure that we all have enough water and ale to stay conscious ourselves,” Valentin remarked, subconsciously running his tongue around his arid mouth.
“That isn’t all. We found Gair’s belongings,” Renne reported solemnly. “We haven’t found a trace of Coralie yet. It’s possible that she got injured and fled the battlefield.”
Valentin shrank upon hearing the news. The ends of those that fell here were unbearably grim. To have their soul absorbed into another spirit, denied their return to the Great Spirit until the spirit that possessed them perished. As leader, Valentin shouldered the majority of the responsibility for Gair’s fate.
“Then, she probably returned to camp,” Valentin remarked. “Even if she didn’t make it all the way back, she will likely have stopped somewhere along the path back.”
“I agree, there aren’t many more places here to look,” Renne replied, biting his lip in concern for his missing friend. “Cathmor, pick up Gélique, we are heading back to camp.”
The deg began their trek back to camp. Slowly, they reintegrated themselves with the rest of the Strettian portion of the subjugation. It was a silent procession. Boots squelched in the muddy path. Weary faces coated in grime regarded each other with morose gazes.
They didn’t find Coralie along the trail back to camp. The only ones that were sat on the fringes were those that had recently collapsed. Exhaustion and injury finally overtaking their willpower, forcing them to the ground without the assistance of their fellow warriors.\ who barely had the energy to support themselves.
They didn’t find Coralie in the camp. Her belongings remained untouched within the tent. She was not by the shores of Lake Telgrig, greedily drinking in the ashy water along with the rest of the parched people.
She did not appear as the tents went down. Supplies and belongings were packed away in the carts. Horses were fed and mounted for the return trip. People began to trickle out of the campsite to perform the march back to Allbost. If they pushed, they could make it back just after nightfall. Still, Valentin’s deg remained incomplete.
Renne stood alone and looked in the direction of the battlefield. He waited to see a figure that would not arrive.
“Renne, we are ready to leave,” Valentin informed his second in command from the back of Vescal.
“We should wait just a bit longer,” Renne replied, not breaking eye contact with the horizon. “If she’s not well, she won’t make the trip back easily.”
Valentin sighed, looking in the same direction that Renne did. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew what Coralie’s complete disappearance meant. She was an experienced veteran who knew what to do in the case of receiving a battlefield injury. She wouldn’t have wandered away and make it difficult to be found by her support.
“Renne-“
“Just a few more moments,” Renne pleaded. “What if we leave right before she returns? She’ll know that we abandoned her.”
They waited together, but nothing changed. Renne stood stock still the entire time with inhuman intensity as he scanned the arrivals for Coralie.
“I will wait by myself, Deggan Valentin,” Renne informed Valentin stubbornly. “I have the supplies I need to make it back on my own.”
“I understand, Renne,” Valentin answered, his voice tinged with sadness. “But do not tarry. We will not wait for you long.”
They marched back towards Allbost down the same road they traveled up on. Surviving insects and birds chirped into the dusk, looking for any of their fellows who still lived. The rhythmic creaking of the cart burrowed deep in their minds.
The villages that they passed on the way now lied smoldering from Aoire’s intensity. Fires sprouting from the igniting spirits of their residents burned the houses from the inside out. Through the torched openings of the huts, they could see that only ashes remained of the stubborn elderly who refused to evacuate the day before. Even if they had fled when they were instructed, Valentin doubted that they would have escaped Aoire’s grasp.
Even after Ortus disappeared and night overtook the sky, Allbost’s northern gate remained open to allow for the sporadic arrival of the returning subjugation. Valentin was glad that most of the city was likely retired for the night. He did not think he could stand the looks of disappointment that he envisioned they would give him.
His warriors returned to their quarters and stumbled into their beds without bothering to unload the carts or wash themselves. Slumber came to them almost immediately, exhaustion dragging them deeply into sleep.
Valentin waited outside, wanting to soak in the cool air of the night for a few moments longer. Though tiredness tried to pull him to the ground, the thoughts in his head roiled and refused to allow him peace. Gair and Coralie’s faces kept appearing in his mind, forcing deep anguish in his heart when he acknowledged their terrible fates.
“Oh, there you are, Deggan Valentin,” Daron said, popping his head from out of the doorway.
“Hello, Daron,” Valentin replied. “How are you and Tara?”
“We both are fine,” Daron answered, taking a few steps out the door to meet with his leader. “Tara worked me like a dog since she was not allowed to do the work herself. I spent the whole day moving barrels of water and carrying the sick. In the end, I don’t know how much good we did, but at least we tried.”
“Don’t forget that fact,” Valentin agreed with a nod. “Nothing you did was worthless. By the way, have you seen Kerwin or Mannix?”
“They are still at the temple,” Daron recalled dutifully. “They’ve been there for the past two days straight.”
“I’ll go visit them,” Valentin replied. “Get some rest, Daron. You’ve earned it.”
Valentin moved up the empty streets of the city towards the temple. Hastily erected markets that peddled false charms sat empty. Wind carried loose dust down the streets and throughways, forcing him to cover his mouth to avoid choking.
The steps up the temple steps were vacant. Those that covered the stairs had either been removed or burned away. The interior was not much better. A thick layer of ash and dust coated the ground and stuck to Valentin’s boots as he tread upon it. A few druids made the futile effort to sweep the debris out of the main prayer hall.
Valentin spotted Kerwin and Mannix sat with their backs to the wall. They sat in silence, their eyes facing the stone floors. The massive scorch marks burned into the floors told the story of Aoire’s reaping performed during the battle.
“Kerwin, Mannix,” Valentin spoke to his warriors who snapped their heads up in near unison.
“Deggan Valentin,” Mannix said in a shocked voice. “You’re back. We weren’t sure-“
Mannix cut himself off. Valentin could not blame him for feeling that way. Several waves of subjugation members had passed through these walls, sharing word of the carnage that they faced earlier that day. It was only natural that they begin to fear for the worst.
“It is alright, Mannix,” Valentin reassured. “But you are right, we did not return unscathed. Gélique is unconscious, Coralie is missing, and Gair is dead.”
While Valentin knew they would feel for the other two, news of Gair would hit them the hardest. Kerwin cursed at the ground while Mannix looked towards the ceiling despondently, his hand mindlessly pawing at the dust on the floor.
“Old Laud died,” Mannix reported with a detached voice, his mind still preoccupied with the news. “They all started burning at once and we couldn’t put them out. We tried to use blankets to smother it or douse it in water, but nothing worked.”
“We were fucking useless,” Kerwin added. He slapped the floor with his hand. “We couldn’t do anything.”
A lump formed in Valentin’s throat at the news. It was not a shock that it was the conclusion, however, he still pitied the agony that Laud had to endure futilely.
“At least he was not alone at the end,” Valentin said, attempting to console the pair of warriors. “How is Zalavo holding up? I imagine he hasn’t slept in days.”
Mannix and Kerwin looked away from Valentin. Kerwin grimaced in a mixture of anger and shame. Mannix did all he could to avoid eye contact, tapping his foot with nervous energy. Both waited for the other to do the speaking on their behalf.
“Is he dead?” Valentin questioned.
“It wasn’t our fault,” Mannix said with a sigh.
“What do you mean? What happened?” Valentin demanded.
“He went insane,” Kerwin recounted with a sharp tone. “When all the fires went up at once, he lost his mind. He ordered us to go collect water to put them out. Then, while we went to do as he said, he disappeared into the inferno. We couldn’t do anything to get him, the fires weren’t going out. That woman druid he was working with kept yelling out to him. Why? Why did he do that?”
“So you finally did what you weren’t able to do all those cycles ago,” Valentin murmured to himself.
Valentin did not have to question Zalavo’s motivations. He knew of the anguish and guilt that dwelled within Zalavo’s mind. Aoire had spat on all of his efforts as a healer and left him hollow and hopeless. Whether it was a spur of the moment decision or a choice built upon cycles and cycles of choices, Valentin just hoped that Zalavo felt peace in that moment.
Despite those rationalizations, one thought blazed in his head. How was he going to explain this to Ferron?
Valentin felt a tapping sensation on his shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. Behind him stood a chipper man. His smile and positive demeanor triggered deeper irritability within Valentin. However, he manage to maintain his composure.
“Are you Deggan Valentin Guerros of the subjugation?” The man asked.
“I am,” Valentin answered.
“High Tiarna Bardon Echavin has a message for the leaders of the subjugation,” the man announced, handing Valentin a scroll with a wax seal on it. “He has declared the subjugation of the flame spirit a success. The High Tiarna himself will arrive with relief grain and will hold a banquet in your honor. Congratulations, and glory to Echavin.”