Micah joined the stream of Climbers headed for the Tower into a massive hallway. He could only see the people in front of him or the shoulders and feet of the ones beyond that. They all moved along pretty quickly, much quicker than the crowd at the Climbers’ Bazaar, but even so, he tried to weave his way past them to walk at his own pace. Being a child in a sea of adults was not a pleasant thing.
A long ways from the entrance, he found an empty crate next to a door and stopped to consider turning it over. It wouldn’t hurt for just a second, right? He just wanted to see how much farther it was. Some Climbers looked at him in passing as he did it and strained his head to look over them. Finally, he could see what lay beyond.
He was about halfway through the tunnel. Guards were stationed near the end, sifting through the crowd, some with smiles and greetings, some grumpy. The hall grew gloomier further in. The exit looked like a blinding screen of light. People just headed in and vanished. Funny. It looked a lot like what Micah had imagined the Tower’s actual entrance to look like.
Curiously, there were also two more reception booths at either side of the exit. Micah wondered if he would have to go to one of those. He hadn’t signed up with the guild after all. Most Climbers were just walking on by, though. Garen hadn’t said anything either.
One of the guards solved the problem for Micah when he climbed back down. The man must have spotted his stamp—Micah wasn’t sure if it glowed or not—or maybe a Skill alerted him. He flagged Micah down and asked him a bunch of questions about his name (Micah), age (13), and where he came from (Westhill). Then he frowned and asked him if his parents knew he was here (no). That got a grin in response. He also asked to search through Micah’s bag, and Micah asked if he had the right to decline (no), so he handed it over and waited while someone searched through his belongings.
Micah should have felt uneasy, he knew, but he didn’t. He had bigger things to worry about. He imagined it was much like the calm before a storm.
Then the guard asked more questions, like what Micah thought his potions were (healing, healing, perfume, light) and how far he wanted to climb (first floor).
The man nodded along to every answer Micah gave, and he wondered if he had some way of knowing whether or not Micah was lying. Were there really truth detection Skills? He’d thought those were just fairytales parents told their children to get them to behave. Nobody had ever caught him in a lie before, after all.
In class, they’d learned that [Guards] scaled in strength proportionate to what they were defending and what they were defending against, with all sorts of tricks up their sleeves. Considering these guards were stationed in front of the Tower, Micah took a small step back in deference.
After opening every container in Micah’s bag and sniffing it, and even looking beneath his sandwich bread, he finally gave him the A-ok and waved him on through.
“Good luck,” he said.
Micah thanked him, even though that had been a lot of nothing. He shielded his eyes against the sunlight as he stepped out the opposite end of the Climber’s Guild and breathed in the fresh air. Micah wasn’t sure if he’d ever imagined being here.
It felt strange to look up at the Tower from beyond its wall, for that was the first thing he saw. It was as if the structure was naked, not that Micah was bashful. But still … Tower, he thought. The name fit at first glance. It was an actual standing structure, resting in the ground. It couldn’t move or act. And yet there was a distance there Micah couldn’t fathom. The thing itself seemed nothing like its childlike essence that swept through the city every day. Did it enjoy the view?
The pavement in the courtyard around it was extremely well kept. It reminded Micah of the streets in the upper districts and made him feel a little self-conscious of any dirt he might drag in. But then he saw there was dirt, too, which surprised him, and grass lawns people were lying on as if this was just another park. There were no trees. Not that he could see anyway. Some of the people were sparring or walking their forms, others were studying. Some were even eating, as if on some kind of a picnic.
Micah walked past them slowly, confused.
He saw buildings made out of wood in the distance, and tall tents that looked like could hold a hundred people. He wondered what they were there for. He turned around and spotted entrances back into the Guild and ones into the wall surrounding them. This was just another part of the city, wasn’t it? Just another district. But beyond that, it was a whole other world. People lived here and worked here. Micah felt like he was eleven again and had just gotten [Essence Sight].
Finally, his trip took him close enough to the Tower that he saw the flickering light of its entrance. The massive silver portal stood there, impassive, not really gaping. It just kind of looked like part of the structure, like how Garen had described it. Micah took a moment to try and begin to understand its essence.
“First time?” someone drew him from his thoughts.
He was a few steps away from the portal now and almost stumbled back. He didn’t remember walking there. A large man was standing to his left, with arms like tree trunks. He was tall, even by Climber’s standards, and carried a heavy metal staff on his back. No blade, as far as Micah could see.
“Yeah,” he said. “How did you know?”
“It’s kind of obvious,” the man said. “I’m Ethan.”
“Micah. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” They shook hands.
“Any tips?” Micah asked casually. The man seemed to consider it though. While he did, Micah watched the people pass by. They stepped on through the light and just vanished. How did it do that? Then someone stepped out of the Tower and few more people followed. The first person turned around, casually talking with her comrades while she walked backward.
Didn’t people ever bump into each other?
“I’ve got many tips,” Ethan said, “nothing special. Nothing you wouldn’t know already. Just take a moment to breathe when you’re on the other side and watch your back.”
Micah nodded.
“Thanks,” he said. He had questions, but he didn’t really feel like asking them now. He just stared at the light before him and then slowly up. This was the first time he could look at the Tower from right under it.
Then he remembered his promise to Garen to have someone check out his knife.
“Right. Ethan, uh, sir, could you take a look at—”
Someone pushed him.
“Off you go!” The man’s voice called out cheerfully. Micah hadn’t even noticed him moving behind him. Then he passed through the silver light and found himself in a red space.
The Salamander’s Den, he thought.
Micah landed with his hands on rough dirt and quickly got back up, looked around himself. He felt strangely calm as he surveyed his surroundings, considering he had just stepped through a portal. He was in an earthy cavern with tiny crystal veins running through every surface. They looked like liquid fire and lit the whole room in a warm, red light.
Micah briefly wondered if it was that way for everyone, or if everything was just red because of his [Essence Sight]. The dense heat essence made him feel like it was summer already, and he was outside with no clouds or shadows to give him respite from the sun. He had imagined it more like a bathhouse from Garen’s descriptions. It felt off that it was so airy considering he was inside.
First things first.
Micah took a look behind himself. The portal was right there, up in his face. He took a careful step back, but he was grateful that he wouldn’t have to go look for it. Then he turned around, took a deep breath, like Ethan had told him to, and checked for salamanders. He found none. He bit his lip and his eyes wandered downward. Maybe if he hurried? He couldn’t resist and knelt down.
The crystal veins were just so fascinating. He knew lots of people used crystals in their daily lives in other parts of the city, but his parents mostly stuck with potions. They were so tiny though, he could barely see inside. Micah lay down on the ground and peered at one from up close. There, he found tiny little fire essences biting each other in a flowing stream. His first thought was that Garen had to be wrong, that there was some way to use these, but the receptionist had told him they were too brittle to be mined and too weak to be effective in any kind of recipe.
Our best guess is that we could use them for sparkdust, he’d said, but we don’t know how to make it. It’s too much effort considering we can just ship it in.
Micah grumbled and got on his knees. Screw his betters, he had to know for himself. He got out his knife and started picking at the floor. He suspected that was a monumentally stupid idea, the first best way to ruin your knife, but he did it anyway. The earth was rough, but after a little bit of picking, he finally managed to lever out a small shard of red. A tiny bit of fire essence leaked out of its open vein, like blood from the small wound it was. Micah picked up the crystal with two fingers and it promptly crumbled in his grip. The rest of its essence escaped, though some of it stayed behind to try and bite his finger.
Cute. It reminded him of [Candle].
Micah sighed in defeat. Garen had been right after all, but he’d had to know for himself.
His curiosity sated, he dusted off his hands and got back up. It was time to get to work. He finished his survey of the cavern and tried to come up with a plan.
The space was almost a square, if a little rounded around the edges. It was about four times as big as his room. Each of the other three sides had an exiting tunnel, which probably wasn’t good. If he went down any tunnel, there was a chance something could sneak up on him from the other two. Though if they branched, that was going to happen anyway …
Micah mulled it over and shrugged. There was no helping it then, was there?
He walked over to the right-side tunnel and peered inside. There was nothing there, nothing that moved or scuttled, and he found himself a bit disappointed. He wanted to see his first monster. A salamander that would attack him. Micah wasn’t sure he’d ever seen one before. He might have. A lot of people in the Climber's Bazaar had strange familiars that they quickly hid when they [Guards] walked past. But guessing from everyone’s nonchalance and Garen’s stories, they couldn’t that bad, right?
He remembered Linda’s warnings and moved his hand to his dagger. Just in case.
The other two tunnels were empty, too, and Micah went back to the portal to consider. It reassured him to have it right there behind him so he could back out in an instant if he wanted to. Not that he was going to. He tried to think about the cavern from a higher perspective. It was probably like a maze, he thought. In the stories, if you always stuck to one side of a wall you would eventually reach the end. Micah didn’t want to reach all the way to the end though. He just wanted to slay some salamanders, hopefully a fully formed one, and get back out with their loot.
That meant he just had to always take the same direction, and then turn around and take the opposite to find his way back when he was done, right? Easy. Plan in mind, Micah headed off into the left-side tunnel.
He traced a vein in the wall with his right hand while he walked and eventually it started feeling hot to the skin, like sun-baked stone. Micah had arrived at the tunnel’s end by then and he let go. The path split off two ways like a capital "T". He looked down both of them before he took a right. Still, no salamanders. He kept on walking and saw another intersection, with another right turn.
Micah thought he might be walking in a circle. Left, right, right, right. He took the right but when he reached its end, the next tunnel only headed left, straight away from the entrance portal. He tried to map the cave in his mind and wondered if he was one wall off from where he wanted to be. There were three tunnels in the entrance. He took a left and then two rights. The next tunnel only led left. That meant the middle one from the entrance should be parallel to the one he was in, right?
This was so confusing.
Micah placed his hand on the rough stone. He wondered if Climbers ever broke through walls to get where they wanted. Or would the Tower not like that? He looked back, but couldn’t see anything following him in the red light. Should he turn around? He could still see where he was going and there was nothing there. The salamanders were probably all deeper inside the caverns.
He decided to push on.
He reached another end that branched off like a "T" and took the right, hoping to find another that would lead straight back to the entrance, but it led on a ways. He wondered where the straight-ahead tunnel had led then, from the entrance. They seemed to alternate between short and long ones.
Another right.
Micah looked over his shoulder again, just to be sure, and jumped. A pain shot up from his right ankle all the sudden.
"Argh!"
Something had bitten him.
He jumped and pulled his right leg forward, but a weight dragged it down. Micah looked and a giant red lizard was latched onto it. It looked nothing like a real lizard, though. More like the veins of liquid fire that ran through these tunnels. What the heck?
It wasn’t trying to attack him or scratch him. It was just hanging there, like a dog on a stick. What was he supposed to do?
Micah hopped in place, saying, "Ow, ow, ow," as he tried to shake it off, but it wouldn’t let go and the salamander started feeling heavier after a while. It sounded like it was growling a little around his calf, then. Meanwhile, his worry was rising. Hadn’t Garen said they were poisonous? He had. What if this was the whole play to bring him down?
He had to do something.
Micah carefully pulled his leg up as far he could and then closed his eyes as he pushed it back down, stomping the bottom half of the creature against the floor with all the force he could muster. The Salamander actually yelped when he did and let go. The weight suddenly gone, Micah stumbled forward and braced himself against the far wall, trying to put some distance between him and it. It was busy squirming around on its back though when he checked. Was it trying to flip itself on its stomach?
It's prone, Micah realized. Wasn’t this his time to strike?
He didn't want to if he was being honest. Sure, it had bitten him, but it still looked kind of cute now that he got a better look at it. He had the strangest impulse to scratch its exposed stomach as if it were some kind of pet. How would it react to that?
... it would probably try to bite his hand off.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I'm sorry, Micah thought as he took a hesitant step forward. This was what he was here for, wasn’t he? To collect monster parts. And it had tried to eat him. Micah flinched in the last moment before he plunged his knife down. The moment the blade sunk in, the beast yelped and burst into smoke. Something clinked to the ground.
Micah coughed and shielded his eyes against the sudden cloud. He tried to wave it away, startled, but Garen had assured him the smoke wasn’t dangerous. The worst that could happen was that it distracted you for a moment, he’d said, so Micah was supposed to watch out for other monsters.
He didn’t. It quickly dispersed while he took a moment to catch his breath. Then curiosity outweighed guilt and he frisked the ground for the Salamander’s crystal. His first crystal. It didn’t take him long to find it. It was warm and red and almost fit into the palm of his closed hand. Micah stared at it in open wonder.
What kind of potions would he be able to make with this? He felt giddy. He couldn’t wait to find out, but for now, he put the crystal in his bag and sat down. His leg stung and he needed to treat it before it got any worse. Garen had said the Salamanders were venomous, he remembered, but only weakly so. It was supposed to numb your skin. Micah hoped his potion would counteract that. He kind of used one for all, which wasn’t really ideal. You needed different types of healing potions for different types of wounds, after all. Maybe he should make a different one next time?
He fumbled with the stopper of the flask for a bit but finally got it off. His hands were shaking for some reason. They were much more agitated than himself. When he looked at the wound, he startled and spilled some of the liquid over his pants.
There was a weird, yellow glow seeping into his wound. Poison essence, he thought. This was the first time Micah was seeing so much so clearly. Its pattern was so detailed, unlike bees’. Was it really supposed to be weak? He was torn between drowning his leg in healing potion that instant and studying it before it was all gone.
Micah suddenly thought he had a better, third option and stopped the flask again. He got out one of his waterskins instead, bent over and held up his leg to suck the blood out of the wound. He’d heard about this in a story once, a traveler sucked the venom from a snake bite on the road. It felt awkward, but the coppery taste of blood was strangely reassuring. It reminded Micah of alchemy and home. Careful not to swallow any, he spat the mess into his waterskin and peered inside.
A single mote of yellow light swam around among the slimy red bubbles of spit and blood. What the hell? He couldn’t use that! It was even less than bees’ essence. Where was all the venom? He must have been too late. And he’d just ruined this water, hadn’t he?
He tried not to berate himself too much because the plan had been solid, Micah had just been a bit iffy on the execution. With a sigh, he switched back to the healing potion and spread it liberally over the wound. Already, he could feel his skin numbing slightly. It felt weird when he pressed his fingers around the wound. Where was the pain? He didn’t notice anything at all.
Now that he thought about it, maybe he could use that? If he could collect salamander venom to numb his hand when he cut it to make healing potions, he wouldn’t feel any pain at ah—
“Ah, ah, ah,” he breathed and went rigged. Something else had bitten him again. Another salamander stood there, tugging on his left foot like a dog on a stick. It was making hissing sounds as if it were growling. Where did these things come from? What was their problem with biting people? Ow, that hurt. A pain shot up from his leg again and Micah winced because something was wrong. This bite hurt more than the one before.
Micah kicked at the beast with a shout, "Hey!"
He immediately winced again. He’d kicked the salamander, but it hadn’t let go, so the force just made it pull on his foot even more. Steeling himself for that, Micah kicked it again. He'd expected pain, but there was none. His lower leg was strangely numb by now. The salamander just growled and tugged harder, like a stubborn dog. Seeing his opportunity, Micah kicked it again, harder this time since it didn’t hurt, and then even harder.
Ha! he thought triumphantly. This doesn't hurt at all.
Why did the Salamanders have numbing venom when all it would do was give their opponents an advantage?
By the fourth kick, the one in front of him finally dodged back and hissed at him.
Big mistake, Micah thought. With his foot free, he pushed himself up along the wall and stomped down on it, before it could react, saying, "Take that!" Once. Twice. Three times. There was a crack and the salamander lay still.
He let himself fall down, panting a little from the exertion and pulled off his flask. Healing potion, he thought. His left foot wasn't numb yet and the wound felt like it was burning. It really kind of hurt. Why? The other hadn't felt that bad.
Comfort potion, he remembered. Of course.
The healing potion would make it all OK though, and then the bite would numb itself. He practically dumped the liquid over his foot and sighed in relief when it and the poison started numbing his skin. It still felt hot, strangely hot, and his wound was practically leaking yellow essence under the red blood and potion, but it didn’t hurt, which was good enough for him.
Plus, he thought, he’d just earned his second crys- … tal?
The salamander was still lying there in front of him. It hadn’t exploded in smoke. Micah stared at the blood flowing from its wounds. That blood was real, that meant the salamander was, too. He had killed … Micah had beaten his first fully-formed monster!
He almost cheered as he bent over to get a better look.
Teacup Salamander, Garen had called them. They fought alone and liked to bite, which transferred paralyzing poison that was absorbed by the skin. They were also hot to the touch. So no punching, Garen had said. Micah wondered what kind of potions he could make with its scales. He didn’t think he wanted to, he thought. He might just keep them since they looked so awesome. There was also a yellow glow emanating from this salamander's head, he noticed. Its poison. It almost seemed like it was seeping into its own blood. Was it not immune to it?
Micah couldn’t have that. It would ruin his specimen.
He knocked back what was left of his healing potion and held the now-empty bottle to the salamander’s open wound, letting the blood and poison spill into it. He knew he was doing this wrong, that he should try to separate the two, but he didn’t see how.
“It’s still usable, right?” he mumbled.
[Basic Alchemy] grudgingly agreed.
When the blood stopped flowing he pressed down on the wound to get some more. The salamander was hot, but not unbearably so. Not nearly as much as the pain of its bite. Micah just had to take breaks so he wouldn’t burn his thumb. It was like playing hot potato.
When he was finished, he stopped the flask and smiled. Now he just had to carry it out of here and he was done. That was it.
He got up, ready to stuff the salamander in his bag, and fell over. He cursed and tried again, but his legs tingled like they had fallen asleep, both of them, and he fell over again. Standing up was hard. He finally managed on his fourth try by windmilling his arms before bracing himself against the wall, but then it just felt weird. It was almost painful, but not quite. Both his legs were just weirdly numb. He hoped it would be over soon.
Micah then crouched down to pick up the dead salamander and heard hissing. Instinctively, he smacked the dead salamander again. He’d thought it might still be alive, but the hissing came from behind him. At the same time as he leaned down to hit it, something shot past him overhead.
Micah looked up and saw another salamander that had landed on the other side of the tunnel. It had missed him from where it had jumped off from the wall. They could climb walls? Of course they could climb walls! How had he forgotten that? That meant they could also climb on ceilings and all the back-checking he’d done all this time was useless.
He thought of Linda and felt ashamed of himself, but forced himself to push those feelings aside.
Okay, so one more salamander wasn’t so bad. Statistically speaking, it was probably unformed anyway. Micah just had to stab it—
He heard a second salamander hissing in the distance and glanced down the aisle. There, he saw one running at him from the wall. The moment he glanced back though, the first salamander was already running at him, headed for his face.
Micah rolled out of its path and his legs stung with a thousand needles. He wasn’t sure he could fight two of them. He just had to take his loot and leave. So he picked up the dead salamander and did just that.
Running on numb legs felt weird, but it was still better than hot pain. He didn't want to imagine what that would feel like. Especially on this ground. His left boot was torn. They weren’t properly thick leather boots after all. Micah had only put them on for sure footing. He slung his pack over both his shoulders as he reached the end of the tunnel and took the left. He took another left down a short path and found himself at a crossroads with four directions. His heart stopped.
This was someplace new.
He started to turn back, heard more hissing, cursed and went on instead. As he passed tunnels he saw more salamanders on walls and ceilings, looking at him running past. Rarely were there any on the floor. The ones that heard the hissing of their brothers and sisters joined the hunt. Micah could outrun them, but his pack and the salamander he carried were wearing him down. They would catch up eventually.
Suddenly, Micah saw a flash of something structured and skid to a halt. The hissing got louder. He scrambled back to the opening and found a cavern a little bit smaller than the entrance. At the end of it was a set of crude stone stairs spiraling up around a corner. He rushed across the room in an instant and took the stairs three at a time, hoping for the silver light of an exit. The moment he stepped around the corner he barreled into someone instead and they both went down.
Something wooden clattered as it tumbled down the steps.
He looked up and saw a room at the end of the stairs. There was a small wooden chest in the far right corner.
No silver light. No exit.
Micah panicked.
“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly as he got up. He wanted to help the person he’d stumbled over, warn them about the salamanders. What a mess he had made, bringing them into this. The hissing was already so close—
Then Micah saw what was under him and his words choked. It wasn’t a person at all. It was a red Kobold about as tall as him. He was pulling it up by its leathery hand. Its staff was lying on the steps right next to him, adorned with colored symbols, claws and feathers. It had a red crystal at the top, exactly like the ones in the cavern walls but much larger. The Kobold was wearing regular clothes, too. With that, Micah meant it was wearing clothing anyone else would wear in the city. Where had it gotten them? Pilferage, Micah thought. He still hadn’t moved. Neither had it. It seemed just as shocked as he was.
Kobolds were supposed to be weak, weren’t they?
No, Garen’s voice said in his head. Micah had asked the grizzled veteran the exact same question. Kobolds, apparently, were even better mages than humans were and quite dangerous because of that. They specialized in destructive magic, like fire, but needed a long time to cast their spells because of mana restraints. Micah’s eyes widened when he remembered that. He wanted to run away but there was a horde of salamanders behind him. Maybe he could run past?
The Kobold shuffled beneath him and he panicked. What was he thinking? This was the salamander all over again. It was right there!
Micah stabbed it.
He didn’t even remember pulling the knife. The creature looked down at the wound. It seemed shocked. Suddenly, its eyes changed and Micah followed them to the dead salamander lying between them. Before he could react, it punched him in the nose. It hurt. Not like the salamander bites, but it hurt nonetheless.
Micah stumbled back in shock. The Kobold raised its staff and swung it towards him. As it flew it ignited with gaping fire. Micah lurched back and away. The Kobold kept swinging that staff at him, though, and the red flames consumed his vision. It was all he could see, the red teeth of the fire, the red light of the room, the crystals in the walls and on the staff. The fire rushed through the air. The hissing came closer and closer. Micah scrambled away from it until he found himself in a corner. Instead of coming further, the Kobold just walked away then, the knife still in its side, grinning.
The horde of salamanders flowed around it and gathered in front of Micah.
The Kobold held its staff high above its head, twirled it a little and started chanting. Micah saw something ripple in the air around them all, then. The world seemed to lurch and the red light shifted. Thick strips of it started flowing towards the crystal in the Kobold’s staff. There it spiraled together into an ever denser growing ball of … fire, Micah realized. It was creating a fireball right in front of his eyes.
Micah tried to run past the sea of salamanders immediately, thinking of escape, and they stood up as one and hissed at him. It was loud, coming from so many, and made him hesitate, but then he tried anyways. He kicked one of them. Another latched onto his leg. He punched it in the face. Another took its place and he swung out. One of them jumped up and scratched his arm trying to bite it. Micah barely felt the ones biting his legs, but his arms weren’t numb like that. He winced and backed off, clutching his arm and the salamanders retreated. The others that hadn’t attacked him were still hissing.
They were just here to trap him until the Kobold could finish its spell, he realized. If he tried to force his way through them, he would be ripped to shreds.
Maybe he could—He didn’t know. What options did he have? Apologize?
He tried it. He screamed apologies so loud that he would be heard, but he doubted they understood. They didn’t react. Why wouldn’t they react? Then Micah got angry and shouted insults and curses instead. In desperation, Micah threw his waterskin at the Kobold. It flew too high and grazed the fireball. When it did, the waterskin ripped. Steam shot up into the cavern and some water rained down, but nothing happened.
The Kobold flinched, but it continued to cast its spell.
Micah unslung his backpack and threw his sandwiches next, hoping the salamanders would go for them. They didn’t. He saw a flash of yellow light in his pack and his eyes widened.
He had almost forgotten about the poison. Could he … maybe? He quickly opened the bottle, careful not to get any on his hands, and poured its contents into his water skin. He closed that, shook it, bit his lip and threw anew. The waterskin hit the ball of fire right where he wanted it to and a cloud of yellow rained down on his enemies.
This time the Kobold reacted. It looked up and recoiled when it got a cloud of steam in its face. Then it grimaced and turned to Micah, clearly annoyed when its arm froze up and it frowned. And it frowned. And it didn’t stop frowning.
Its eyes were looking all around itself in a buzz of confusion before they focused back on him. It couldn’t move.
The fireball above it sputtered and dipped. Micah hoped it would fall and immolate its own creator, but then the Kobold yelped and continued on its chant. It could still speak, apparently. The flames didn’t move again, but they did keep growing larger. Micah didn’t understand magic, but he knew what was happening. It had to continue to cast the spell for as long as it was paralyzed or else it would end up killing itself. Apparently, it couldn’t get rid of the flames. Micah didn’t know why, but he would take it.
When he looked to the salamanders, they were all paralyzed or barely moving on the ground below. He would have skipped right over them, but something was wrong. Those that could move were trying to drag themselves away from their master. One nearest the Kobold suddenly froze up and stopped moving. Something about the way it did told Micah that it was more than just paralyzed. He took a tentative step forward and was met by a wall of charring heat, getting hotter every second. He had to run for it.
He made his way past the first few salamanders when he realized he wouldn’t survive making it to the end. He would have to run right past that ball of flames. Some of the salamanders were bursting into smoke by now, their crystals falling to the ground. He saw essence being ripped from them and flowing upwards to fuel the spiraling ball above. The fireball was a massive, roaring storm of almost white-hot fire now, and the Kobold’s hand holding the staff was coal.
Strangely, the rest of its body was still intact. It was clearly alive and in great pain.
Micah knew the feeling. He could barely stand, and then he couldn't. He kept on crawling despite that. He had to escape. A crack drew him to look at the ceiling. Its surface was melting, its stone beginning to grow its own teeth. The teeth of the fireball seemed to touch them then, as if making contact, and the sound cut off.
A wall of red light shot up around the fireball, right in front of Micah's eyes. He jumped back. It flashed once before disappearing. The fireball was still raging, the heat was still building up, but whenever it tried to grow there was a flash of light and it was held back by an invisible barrier.
The Kobold? Micah thought. But how? Micah was pretty sure it had been using the same incantation all this time.
Screw that, he thought and put another arm forward, but he could barely breathe anymore. His throat was too dry. Another arm forward and he slipped on a dead Salamander's tail and fell.
The poison he'd doused the Kobold with had been weak and diluted. Micah hadn't even expected it to paralyze it at all, but it would surely be able to move soon. When it did, even if Micah somehow made it to the end of this cavern, all it had to do was turn and point. Micah glanced back at it. Its body was trembling now, ever so slightly.
He only had one choice. He stood up and gasped as he took a full breath of the searing wind. Then he took a wavering step forward.
The Kobold stared at him in disbelief and … fear? Yes, fear. For good reason. The way Micah saw it, he couldn't run. He might as well try to take the bastard out instead. Maybe that would disperse the flames? The Kobold knew that, and it was straining to get away.
Micah reached through the red barrier and pulled out the knife in its side, ready to turn it into a pin cushion. But the moment he took hold of the blade he flinched and let go at the searing heat. His shout was drowned out by the flames. Micah looked up in desperation. Not even that. He couldn’t even do that.
He thought of Linda again, of his parents and Garen and his family and he stared at the storm of white-hot essence about him. He had one last, desperate idea. Might as well. The Kobold would only do the same if he stayed close to it, after all.
Micah shrugged off his pack and pulled out his last waterskin.
It wouldn’t work, his Class told him. And yet … yes, yes it would, his Path did. Essence is what you will it to be. It has no dominion.
In his right hand, he held an open container of heated water. Before him was a closed container full of essence. A raging storm of it, but it was essence nonetheless. He pressed the waterskin against the barrier and felt his skin burn away. He cried a single, clear word:
“[Infusion]!”
The light broke a hairline fracture. A wisp of white-hot essence shot out from it and into his waterskin. Everything went blank.