Holy shit that fucker is fast for eight foot something.

Elia eyed the sheer stone ahead and the thousand foot drop. With a moment to catch her breath, she leaped onto the wooden footpath hammered into its side.

And he’s got stamina too. Sheesh, look at those legs pump, those muscles coil, rippling like eels in a keg.

Body was on lookout duty, which was proving a mistake. She had been practically drooling over his everything for quite a while.

Sense chuckled. A poet. Hah, a Body-poet, a poet-Body! Let me try too: I don’t like running, it makes my feet fucking hurt–

“Shut up!” Elia gasped. “We are not into Brod.”

Hey, nothing like that, just a wee bit jealous ‘cause he can run for hours and we cannot, not anymore. As your resident body expert, I know he’d have to be two feet shorter, a bit less hairy, and have boobs for you to take notice.

She grumbled even as her heart felt like it was telling her to jump off the side just for the cool wind. It was hard not to notice Brod, not when he was barreling through obstacles and dregs like a semi truck with a snow plow, just as it wasn’t hard to notice her legs shivering after the dozenth [Frog leap]. Two or three more, and they would give out on her.

How embarrassing would that be?

“Can’t believe we’re losing,” she mumbled, rounding the massif until he was out of sight.

Hey, not our fault you made it a race to the top. Gotta say, you’ve got bein’ Elia down to a T. Especially the pride.

“Not true. Shut up.”

Oh yeah? Yeah!? Says the girl who’d rather suffer all on her lonesome in a hospital rather than admit to her only friends that something was wrong so they wouldn’t come in and check on her. I know, I was the one who suffered, all ‘cause you didn’t wanna appear weak!

“Shut up!” The ground beneath her wobbled. Was that the walkway, or just her legs? It didn’t matter, because as she reached a path of solid ground under her feet, she collapsed onto the cold stone. “C-crap. Short break. J-just a short one, alright?”

There was a chorus of hisses, some sibilant, others like a wet fart. Sense was eyeing the way forward while shivering under Body’s body, while the snake in question stood like a proud Napoleon. Mind was busy comparing the climb to some tibetan monasteries they all had seen in a documentary on attaining enlightenment. After coming this far, she was quite sure that just like them the gods put their home in hard to reach places just to fuck with would-be visitors

That, or they weren’t the most sociable lot.

As she pondered the cool rock pressing into her cheeks, a pair of large sandals stepped into view.

Ah crap. He caught up.

“Nnngh.” Ok Elia, you can salvage this. “Your sandal is loose.”

Brod hummed and with a thud plopped himself down. He unfurled his leather sandals, slowly removing one strap at a time. He was doing it on purpose, because by the time he was done, Elia no longer felt like she had a full-body fever. When she tried to stand, her legs betrayed her, and collapsed like jello.

“Can’t move?” he asked.

“Shaddup.”

A hand closed around her waist and heaved her onto his shoulders like a bag of salami. Maybe if she hadn’t guzzled her entire two bottles of bowl water to stay ahead, she wouldn’t have been in this situation. But here she was, and she entirely deserved the embarrassment.

It started raining.

At least Brod had a rain shield, and refused to make stupid comments. He just carried her for half a mile, until she felt like her body temperature was at a livable level again.

A note to ourselves: If we were to run around in the rain, we would lose body heat at an enormous rate. We’d turn slow, sluggish, and unperceptive. We need to find a way to manage our heat.

“Ugh. Great.” Being cold blooded sucked.

Elia stretched, then pushed herself onto a handstand on Brod’s shoulder. Thanks to her fuck-you levels of finesse, it didn’t matter that he was walking, or whether she was using one hand or two. He slowed briefly out of worry, but then resumed his ascent.

“What now?” he asked in a rumbling baritone voice.

“We were making good time.” Elia did a one handed shrug. “We should be able to reach the top in a day or two.”

He gave her a glance, then at the path ahead. “No. Big snake is in the way.”

Elia followed his gaze. A few hundred feet up, a familiar gigantic white noodle was draped over the mountain. Just watching it sleep there all peaceful-like was making her blood boil. “Then we kill it.”

“No. No, no.” He tried to pluck her from his shoulders, but she just hopped onto the other one. “Why do you want to go up? What is up there that is not below?”

“Not you too,” Elia groaned. “It’s just what I told Karla. Got some business up top, gotta fulfill a promise and give some people my very physical opinion. Vengeance! And all that entails.”

He didn’t need to know the truth. The giant snake was on her shit list as well, but it was only a target of convenience. The gods on the other hand…

She hopped off his shoulders with a smooth flip. “And what about you?”

“Vengeance, maybe, too.”

Elia opened her mouth for a retort when she suddenly spotted a bright orange-white smudge. It stood further up the mountain and looked vaguely human. It was waving a flag. The flag was on fire.

The 41st legion.

Immediately, Elia felt the heat surge back through her veins. The legion was the counterpart to the tar-knights, but that didn’t automatically mean they were the good guys. Something about burning alive just didn’t vibe with Elia.

Something’s odd, Sense said.

“Let’s get a bit closer, Brod.”

They snuck closer, every snake on Elia’s head on the lookout for an ambush. But it was naked rock all around, and the path only went one way. She stepped close enough to hear the heated rain sizzling on its skin. It was a legionnaire of some sort, but he was almost entirely a skeleton. His lower jaw was missing and a piece of his armor was parted as if he had been run through with a lance.

He stopped waving his flag (or was it a banner?) as she met the hollows of his eyes. Then, he turned around, and supported himself on his spear as he walked down a hidden side-path snaking through angular stone-shelfs.

He’s leaving, Mind said. Double odd.

“Should we follow him?” She looked where the side path disappeared into a crevice, and where the main one continued on until it lost itself beneath gigantic white scales. “I’m following him.”

Brod made a grunting sound, a sort of dissatisfaction-but-reluctant-approval. They followed after the dreg’s sooty steps, which were soon washed away in the torrential downpour.

***

Uovis wasn’t lying when she said she had a huge library. Towering bookshelves dwarfed entire houses, twisting staircases leading down from balcony to balcony. This place had bridges inside for crying out loud! It had exactly the kind of expectation-shattering volume Rye had been expecting from the goddess of knowledge.

Ex-goddess, she reminded herself. I wonder if there’s anything here on the divine justice system.

The ex-goddess hadn’t given them a time limit for impressing her. They had appropriated a large round table for their own use, where Hannah was already leafing through a book from her pile. Rye was still busy curating hers while Sam’s was considerably smaller. She looked overwhelmed by the amount and density of information. Rye caught her staring into the far distance, questioning the choices that got her here.

Sam cleared her throat and attacked Sansibon’s Medicinal Almanac with renewed vigor.

Rye found a tome that piqued her interest, On the history of Ascension and Giants. She put it on her already wobbling stack and was just making her way down the ladder when a small booklet caught her eye.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“One Lie, and other Fairytales, by Pawil the Obstinate.” It was a second edition copy, hewn into rock that was then made to bend like paper through some arcane trickery. It wasn’t very thick. It would have fit in anyone’s pocket. Idly, she flipped through it. “The following text is a work of fiction. It has no bearing on real people, institutions, or events. A thorough reader will see it for what it is.”

Intrigued, she flipped ahead to a random page.

“... and ‘ere long, the fire would rise, and return all to ash: the great stone tree, its living seeds, and the ants that thoughtlessly built their nest so high. ‘But I didn’t mean to set it alight,’ said the shepherd boy, ‘the spark leapt all on its own’. ‘Such is the nature of fire,’ the fox replied. And then it tore out his throat.”

How cruel. Flipping through a few more pages, it seemed that every short story ended in similarly grim ways for the naive shepherds and seamstress’ daughters. It was a very odd fairytale book.

Well, reading this still beats having to fight for my life.

She climbed back down and set out on the adventure to surprise the goddess of knowledge. The chair she found was comfy. The moment she sat down and got to reading, it was as if all the strain of the past days caught up to her. She yawned, feeling snug.

Maybe I don’t want people to go to all this trouble to cure me. A year is plenty of time. All I’d need is a house on a hill, lying in Sam’s arms as we watch our plot of land flourish. Our slice of paradise, if only for a bit.

I’ll tell them tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.

***

Elia had expected a trap. Maybe they had a group of undead with crossbows hiding around the next bend. Maybe they would rush them at a thin point of the path, throw them off the mountain and call it a day. What she hadn’t expected was a hidden camp smoldering along an old semicircle wall the size of a dam.

A hundred eyes were on her the moment she stepped from out of the crevice. Every one of the legionnaires could kill her forever if they wanted, the fire suffusing their bodies would make sure of that. She could turn around, now, and everyone would have called it a smart move.

One of the legionnaires stepped forward, a large one, wearing the faceless grin of a blank black skull. “Elia! You made it!”

“Me?” she asked.

He went to slap her on the back and she instinctively ducked under the burning hand.

“Ah, sorry, old habit.” He frowned. “It’s me, Sextus. You remember me, don’t you?”

Elia’s brain short-circuited for a moment. The legionnaires she had helped outside of Glenrock had made it this far. Good for them? Sextus at least looked like he had lost weight, and skin, and muscles, but at least he still had his eyes. They sat in his skull like hard boiled eggs, staring at everything a tad too intensely.

“Oh fuck, it really is,” she muttered. “Are you alright? Does the fire… hurt?”

“Hurt?” He laughed, bone rattling against armor. “I’ve never felt so alive in my life.”

“Uh-huh. You talk a lot more clearly now as well.” That was probably the only good thing to come of this so far. “But you’re really alright? No heart-burn, no intense feeling of loss?”

“Hm? Oh, well I’ll be ash in a year tops, so there’s that. And after Tertius died, I felt a bit bad.”

The mute? “Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, he got infected by a tar-worm, and we had to put him down after that.” He shrugged. “Better than being burned and reshaped over and over. At least he lived his dream of dying wearing officer-britches. Which brings me to my question: Would you or your giant companion want to join the legion?”

Brod, who had been eying him warily this entire time, answered curtly. “No.”

Elia snorted. “Hell no.”

Tertius laughed. “Ah, was a good try. The legion life isn’t for everyone. Morale’s low though; we’re in a bit of a pickle you see. Follow me, if you’d please.”

Elia looked around. The heat was starting to get to her. If they went any deeper into the camp, they’d be surrounded. But against her better judgment and the squealing of her hair-snakes, she followed him.

If they burn you, I will fuck them up.

“Thanks Body,” she said.

The more Elia looked around, the more she realized these scenes were frighteningly common. A woman was lying on a stone bed, skeleton turning white and brittle as ash with every breath.

“The war isn’t going too well?” she asked.

“The tar-folk beat us pretty hard in the last engagement.” Sextus scratched the back of his head. “I shouldn’t say this openly but… General Quintus has taken leave of his senses and disappeared up into the cloud bank. It pains us to see him become a beast, but none of us are ascender material, none of us are his equal.”

“You want to mercy kill him?” Elia asked.

“He wants us to.” Brod commented.

Sextus nodded. “Well, if you get a chance. I’m told to take every ascender I come across to the officer tent and make them a tantalizing offer they can’t refuse.”

Elia stilled.

Traitor! I knew it. Run awaaay!

“... but, since it’s you, I feel bound to help you out. Pay you back, for old times’ sake. It’s what Tertius would’ve wanted.”

Elia could scarcely believe it. “Even if it means going against the legion?”

“None of us three would have gotten here without your help. We would’ve died in a ditch in front of Glenrock.” He chuckled. “Now, look lively, and maybe pretend you’re just a little bit intimidated.”

“I can do that,” Elia said and jumped into the backseat, while shoving Sense to the front. You’re up, miss paranoia.

“... I want to leave.”

“That’s the spirit.” With a wide arm he opened the tent flaps to the side, which immediately caught fire. “Legate Mauricius! I have volunteered two ascenders for our legion.”

A massive burning skeleton was sitting at a table that looked way too small for his broad frame. He looked up from behind stacks and stacks of stone ledgers and messages. “Hrm? Ah, good good. Give them the speech and then burn them up good.”

“Legate.” Sextus rapped the butt of his spear on the ground. “I cannot complete this order.”

“What?” The heat in the tent rose by a few degrees. “Why is that, Decurion?”

“Sir, she has a terrible case of the runs, sir.” He looked down at Sense-Elia, who was doing a great impression of a shivering, quivering heap of sickness.

“P-please don’t hurt me,” she said.

“Fire doesn't hurt,” the gruff legate responded. “It burns. It cleanses. It heals everything… except some sicknesses.”

Sextus nodded. “Remember Michael the ever-coughing?”

“I can hear him from halfway across the camp, and that is annoying enough. I wouldn’t want to have a legionnaire trailing liquid fire everywhere.” He sighed, then turned to Brod. “And what about that one? He unfit too?”

“No,” Sextus said, before the giant could open his mouth. “He is actually… too fit. He is the general's great-great-great-great uncle’s nephew’s daughter’s widower. He was hoping to climb a bit more before having a word with General Quintus himself.”

“He won’t be getting an answer, given how we last saw the general. Get him the seed-flame.”

“S-sir?” Sense-Elia stammered. “I-if I may, Brod really wants to meet his great-esteemed general at least once. It’s been his dream to a-ask him directly to join his legion.”

The legate squinted. “Damn nepotism.”

“Is my last wish,” Brod said. “Am very… honored to talk to good friend of Squintus. He told me about you.”

“He did?” If skeletons could blush, he would be red as a burning cherry. “Well, I wouldn’t call myself a friend more as an undying, loyal ally, but if he says so then...”

“With respect, sir, I shall escort them to their respective posts before we commence the final assault.”

“Hm, what? Yes yes, go by my authority.”

Sense made nervous sounds as she waddled out of the tent with the others, where Elia finally took over.

N-never do that again, please. And if you have to, give me a warning.

“Hey, we’re all bad at acting, but you were pretty convincing.” She grinned, then looked to Sextus. “So. You’re helping us out because you owe us. That’s fine, but what is this really about?”

Sextus scratched his cheek bone. “Well, you, see, ah… want to see us try to kill that bastard snake?”

“Boy, do I ever.”

***

On the path up the mountain, the scale-feathered sky-serpent was having a titanic nap. It didn’t notice the hordes of burning little mites approach, and when it did it could have cared less. A person was after all as tall as a single of its living scales, what harm could they possibly do?

“Scale-feathers burn nicely,” Sextus said, the rain having let up enough that his face wasn’t completely covered in steam. “It’s like they’re made of wood or some such business.”

As he said that, the first cohort launched their assault. The living scales fought back against every stab and swipe, but no matter where they grabbed, they were immediately scorched by flame. Within less than a minute, the gigantic snake-thing roused. It turned its head and, with that characteristic whistling of wind, blasted the cohort clean off the mountain.

Elia winced. “You sure you can win?”

The jolly skeleton-legionnaire just laughed. “By the gods, no, we’re going to get shafted. But our leader’s gone, and most of the officers are scattered far and wide. The legion is doomed to a slow death. But that’s not what any one of us signed up for, so we might as well try and get the gods’ guard-dog out of the picture, if even for a while.”

Elia looked up at his crumbling face. If she didn’t know better, she would have said that the one year lifespan was a lie. He could probably crumble any day now.

“So. A heroic death?”

“And, if you permit, a flickering hope.” He reached inside of his chest and pulled out a kernel of hot something as large as a finger. “I can feel your power. You might even be a match for the general, and you’ll be more if you beat him. Please, take this with you, and use it, or don’t.”

Emberling Seed

A seed of demonic fire imbued with the purpose to burn a great being. The fire of the legion burns bright and short as part of their pact with the executioner.

Consume to fill a vessel with a flame of fire.

Careful, Body said, Does it burn? Is it spreading? No? Then hold onto it.

“Is that all?” Elia asked.

Sextus shrugged. “Are you happy with how your life went?”

She didn’t answer.

The snake twitched and coiled in on itself, bashing against the mountain where a considerable patch of embered scales was falling away. “The path is clear. Get up there now, get up and show ‘em what for.”

Elia pursed her lips. Then, with heavy legs, she was off. They kept a quick pace until they were past the area where trees were pressed into the ground, where the snake had rested. There was cavalry riding on its back now, like an army of ants trying to climb up a kid's leg.

“Odd friends you have,” Brod said.

“Sometimes, it feels like im still in a chemo-induced fever dream. But no waking up from this one.” At least the emberling seed was warm in her chest pocket, far away from Quibbles. “Do you think we can do it? Kill their general?”

Brod shrugged. “Maybe. If he make it up far, then he strong. Maybe stronger than a god.”

“Only one way to find out.”

And they went on without looking back, the path to the top shortening ever more.