Fourteenth Oath -- Fire and Ash

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Nine: ‘O, gathering Deep...’

He had to slow them down. Whatever it took. More iron. Everywhere. If he projected it far enough, it would find something to latch onto. More. Farther. Nothing else mattered. This guy next to him was going to fall to his death if he didn’t do this. Right now.

The box shifted and shook, then began to slow. Gradually. But it didn’t stop, even as Hector kept envisioning and adding to the gigantic network of iron spikes and hooks and spears and nets that must have been surrounding the box by now.

The bumpiness came and went as the descent continued for quite a while. Robert Sheridan tried to speak, but with the grinding and groaning of metal in all directions, Hector couldn’t hear him--nor did he try to, until finally, after what felt like an hour, the box came to a stop.

Hector allowed himself to stop concentrating on his iron and relax somewhat.

‘Hector,’ came Garovel’s voice through the pitch darkness. The reaper sounded rather annoyed.

‘W-what?’

‘Oh, did you finally hear me? I’ve been trying to talk to you for a while, you know.’

He, in fact, did not know that, but Mr. Sheridan interrupted before Hector could answer.

“Thanks for saving my bacon there, son.” A rustling noise was also coming from his direction, as the man was perhaps trying to stand up. Then a small lamp flicked on in the palm of Mr. Sheridan’s glove.

At last, Hector could see again. He started annihilating some of his iron so that they could get a look outside. The meager lamplight didn’t extend very far, though.

‘Hector, I can sense Zeff and Axiolis down here, along with a few other people.’

That was a surprise. ‘You mean they fell down the hole after us?’

‘No, I think there were more holes than just ours. From what I was able to tell, things got pretty crazy up there.’

‘Where’s Zeff?’

The reaper detached himself from Hector’s arm and pointed in the direction opposite to the one that Hector had been looking. ‘About two hundred meters that way. Seems like they’re already headed toward us. I suggest we go meet them halfway.’

‘No argument here.’ Hector made a doorway in the box.

“H-hey, uh, son,” said Mr. Sheridan, causing Hector to pause and look back. “Would you mind helping me carry some of this?” He eyed the many, many gun parts strewn all over the box’s floor.

Oh right. Hector supposed all that stuff was pretty damn valuable. Not to mention, the big gun that they had been building was still there, too.

Hector stepped out of the box and motioned for the man to follow. When they were both clear, Hector annihilated all of the haphazard iron that he had created earlier while also remaking the box. Then he materialized an iron track for it and grew the box slowly along it.

“Hey, that’s pretty convenient,” said Mr. Sheridan as they started walking. “You interested in a job?”

Hector was hardly listening, however, as he had a more pressing question for Garovel. ‘Where are the worms?’

‘All over the place.’

Not what he wanted to hear. ‘Should we be running?’

‘Not as of yet. Fortunately for us, the worms seem to be going after the train.’

‘Oh, so the train got away?’

‘Yeah. It started moving a while ago, and now I can’t sense it anymore. All these worms must still be able to, though.’

At that news, Hector allowed himself to relax a little more.

“--chances are, huh?”

Hector realized that Mr. Sheridan had still been talking. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked what you thought our chances are,” the man said, less jovial than before. “Of getting out of this alive, I mean. You’ve got one of them reaper phantoms, right? And they can sense stuff, right?”

“Uh...”

‘He doesn’t seem like he’ll panic,’ said Garovel. ‘Just answer him honestly.’

“Well, ah,” said Hector, “we’re safe for now.”

“That so?”

“But there are still worms everywhere.”

“Figures.” The man frowned and smacked his lips together. “Guess I have to ask you to look after me for a bit longer, then. Sorry for the trouble.”

Impulsively, Hector almost said that it was no trouble, but he stopped himself. Because, well... honestly? It was. It really was. And Mr. Sheridan would probably know he was just saying that to be polite or whatever.

Hector didn’t actually mind, of course. This was the kinda shit he lived for. But it was definitely trouble. In fact, that was kinda the point.

But then again, maybe he should’ve said it anyway, even if it was just to be polite. Being polite was a good thing, after all, wasn’t it?

Shit, he was putting way too much thought into this.

And perhaps Mr. Sheridan had grown uncomfortable by Hector’s deliberating silence, because then the man said, “I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

Crap, he was being rude, wasn’t he? He hadn’t been talking nearly enough. Thinking back, he’d kinda been ignoring or otherwise not responding to a lot of the things that this guy had been saying so far. Sure, he’d been preoccupied with bigger concerns, but still...

And now he really didn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to respond to a promise like that? Just say “cool”? No, that would be stupid. He didn’t give a shit if this guy ever paid him back or not. That wasn’t important at all. So maybe he should just say “okay”? Eh, it was more neutral, but not much better, really...

Argh, why was this so difficult? Where’d all the worms go? Wasn’t there at least one who wanted to come fight him, right now? He wouldn’t mind.

A faint, red-orange light caught his attention. With only the tiny lamp in Mr. Sheridan’s hand, they’d been walking through an all-encompassing wall of darkness up to now, so he had to wonder where this new light was coming from. It seemed to be emanating from around a corner.

Stolen novel; please report.

‘Is that Zeff and the others?’ he asked Garovel.

‘No, they’re still a ways away. I think that’s probably just lava.’

Hector’s brow lowered from behind his misty helm. ‘JUST lava?’

‘You’ve never seen lava before?’

‘Not up close, no. Not sure I want to, either.’

Sure enough, when they were close enough, a rocky corner revealed itself to their lamplight, and they peeked around it to find a rushing river of lava in their way. It burned so intensely bright and was such a harsh contrast to the darkness everywhere else that Hector couldn’t look directly at it without his eyes beginning to hurt.

‘Hmm,’ hummed Garovel. ‘We’ll wait for Zeff here.’

‘You sure? I could build a bridge over it, no problem.’

‘Big problem, actually. Heat convection is a bitch, Hector. And you still haven’t mastered temperature manipulation with your iron yet, have you?’

‘Ah...’

‘You’re free to give it a go, if you want,’ said Garovel, ‘but let’s not gamble with this poor guy’s life, eh? Because even with how advanced that suit he’s wearing is, I highly doubt it will protect him from the heat rising off that lava over there.’

Hector’s mind went to his studies. He’d been meaning to work on temperature manipulation, and Asad and Zeff had even told him to do so on his own as homework, but he’d been neglecting it in favor of practicing other things--other, purportedly more difficult and, in theory, more valuable things.

But now he felt like he’d been slacking.

So while they waited for Zeff to show up, Hector took the opportunity to get in some extra practice.

-+-+-+-+-

Zeff was in no mood for any of this, right now. It was all he could do to keep himself from lashing out at any of these people tagging along with him and Axiolis. A handful of Hun’Kui militiamen, along with Diego Redwater, Manuel Delaguna, and one of the non-servant Garza girls whose face he recognized but name escaped him.

He knew they didn’t deserve his ire. He knew that. But he was so frustrated that he could hardly think straight.

Because he’d allowed himself to get separated from his children again. Again.

It just kept happening. In spite of his best efforts, it just kept happening.

After everything... what would Mariana think? She would chastise him, surely. That woman never held back her criticism. And she’d be right, too.

First his parents. Then his cousins. Aunts and uncles. Grandparents and great grandparents. Then Gema. Then Mariana. Then Francisco. Then Emiliana.

And now, even Marcos and Ramira.

It just kept happening.

He couldn’t stop it. No matter what he did.

What a fool and a failure he was. In every way that mattered. A terrible excuse for a father and a husband.

Perhaps this was just meaningless. This struggle. Endless. Fruitless. Doomed to be repeated as he inevitably proved too weak or too stupid in the future, as well. What if this path just kept going and never got any better, regardless of his every effort? Even regardless of how he tried to change or improve?

Was this what going mad felt like?

He wondered if that wouldn’t be for the best. If he went mad, would that not make things easier? He could just let go. Stop caring so much.

Could he choose that? Could he choose to go insane? Because he wanted to. In this moment, he couldn’t imagine a more appealing idea.

Except.

That other thought was still there. The one that wouldn’t stop bothering him no matter what. That one that kept telling him it wasn’t about him anymore. It didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter what would make him happy or sad or anything else.

And choosing to go mad, if such a thing were even possible, would be exactly that. Selfish. It wouldn’t solve anything. It wouldn’t make up for anything. And it certainly wouldn’t help his children.

So, no.

There was no easy way out. Not now. Not ever.

He’d known that all along, really. It was no great epiphany.

Mariana would have been disgusted with him if she knew that he had even been humoring such thoughts.

God, he missed her.

Zeff tried to steady his thoughts, knowing he shouldn’t allow himself to get too distracted. Axiolis was here to warn him of any incoming danger, of course, but even so, it never hurt to be vigilant. And besides, there were few things more terrifying than being lost in the deep darkness of the Undercrust. Any of these people following him were liable to start panicking if he didn’t fulfill his role as the apparent leader.

Even Diego, potentially.

It wasn’t likely, sure, but Zeff had known even more brazenly confident men than him who had broken down in similar circumstances. There was perhaps no clearer example than in Lyste, some twenty years prior, during what would later be known in that country as the Great Right Turn.

It had been a quiet war for public opinion, until the very end, when all hell broke loose. They had faced overwhelming odds for five days straight, fighting such famous names as the Bloodeye, the Man of Crows, the Raider, the Liar, the Silver Devil, and even the Mad Demon himself.

That was the battle in which Field Marshal Kent and many other Vanguardians lost their minds and began attacking their own allies, including one another.

It was also the battle in which Field Marshal Lamont earned the name Iceheart, for killing Kent, his closest friend, in addition to every other broken traitor.

Zeff might not have believed that story if he hadn’t been there to witness it with his own eyes, if he hadn’t gotten to know Kent a little beforehand and seen the man acting seemingly normal up until then... and if Kent hadn’t been mere seconds away from killing him and Axiolis both.

It was doubtless to Zeff’s mind that in those few short days of fighting, the entirety of Lyste would have been consumed by Abolish were it not for Lamont. The man’s reputation had suffered from it, as he’d previously been more widely known as the Judge of Intar, but having been there himself, Zeff could never truly fault the man for what he had done.

And now it was strange, because as much as he hated the Vanguard, there were still those within it whose strength, both of body and of mind, he aspired to.

In a way, though, that made him even angrier. At the Vanguard and himself.

‘Zeff,’ came Axoilis’ echoing voice. ‘We’re almost there.’

As they walked, the increasing incandescence all around their small party was a welcome change, even though the magma from which it came was less so. He could finally make out the rough silhouette of the cavernous passage that they were using, as well as various branching paths along the way.

When the young Lord Goffe came into view, Zeff stopped. The boy was apparently practicing his materialization over a broad river of magma. And not doing very well, it seemed, as parts of his iron bridge were already white hot and beginning to bend downward.

What a ridiculous sight. With everything he’d seen the boy do, this should have been child’s play by now. Had he not been doing as Zeff and Asad had instructed?

How irritating. Zeff really did not need anything else to be annoyed by, right now.

Much as he would’ve liked to scold the boy and maybe smack him until he started doing it correctly, this wasn’t the time or place for that.

Zeff flicked his wrist and set about the task of cooling the molten river safely. If he simply materialized an iceberg on top of it, the extreme temperature difference would cause the ice to explode and probably kill someone--if not everyone. A suitable application of soul-strengthening, however, prevented that problem, and then Zeff was able to quickly blacken and settle the magma flow as his continual supply of ice melted harmlessly over it.

He noticed the Hun’Kui behind him take a few steps back, perhaps able to feel an uncomfortable gust of cooler air wash over them. He knew he had to be mindful of their presence, too. If he put too much oomph into his ice and turned this place into a little winter wonderland, the Hun’Kui would almost certainly freeze to death within seconds.

It required a strange and delicate balance, this little entourage. Ice was as deadly to the Hun’Kui as magma was to the non-servants from the surface.

Garovel was the first to venture over the calmed river and strike up a conversation. ‘Glad to see you all in one piece.’

‘Likewise,’ said Ax. ‘So where to next? Time is short, and every direction but southwest will likely lead us into a fight with more worms.’

Diego stepped forward. “If that’s the case, then what’s there to think about? Southwest it is.”

His reaper, Yangéra, floated by his side. ‘The train went northeast,’ she said.

“Oh.”

‘There’s also the concern of WHY southwest is so empty,’ said Garovel. ‘Call me suspicious, but it seems a little too good to be true.’

‘Perhaps, but do you see any other options?’ said Ax. ‘Because I am struggling to.’

‘Unfortunately, no, I don’t.’

‘The longer we stand here, the more likely the worms will notice us,’ added Yangéra. ‘I suggest we at least START going southwest, for now.’

‘Agreed,’ said Ax.

‘I, as well,’ said Lorios, the reaper to Manuel Delaguna.

‘Guess I do, too,’ said Garovel.

The group began walking again, Axiolis and Garovel leading the way. Zeff noticed the large iron box that Hector was having follow them, and when asked, the boy stiltedly explained that it contained valuable firearms.

Hector opened the top of it, allowing his companion, Mr. Sheridan access while they were moving. Diego, Manuel, and a couple of the Hun’Kui gave it a look as well, and it wasn’t long before Hector was dragging half the party along in his iron box while they toiled away with guns.

Yet another ridiculous sight. Had the boy become a pack mule, now?

Zeff adjusted his pace in order to walk next to Hector. “You should be practicing your temperature manipulation,” he said, still trying to keep a lid on his annoyance level.

“Ah, oh yeah,” said Hector. And then he started doing exactly that. While still pulling the others along, the boy began making spheres appear and disappear repeatedly in front of himself.

Somehow, that was even more irritating.

Zeff could hear a few of the others chatting, including the reapers, but he wasn’t done with Hector. An important question had occurred to him. “Do you still have the Shard that Asad gave you?”

Hector threw Zeff a look, paused from his practice, and reached through the misty armor’s gap in the armpit to whip out the Shard. He held it out for Zeff, but the Rainlord didn’t take it.

“As long as it is safe,” said Zeff.

Hector said nothing, only recoiled his hand.

And maybe this wasn’t the appropriate time, but Zeff still felt compelled to ask, “Can you contact her now?”

The young lord’s expression was unreadable beneath his helmet. “I’ll try.” Hector closed his eyes and fell silent again.

Zeff waited. Impatiently, perhaps, but he waited.

When Hector opened his eyes again, he said, “S-sorry, it’s... it’s still not working.”

“Why?” growled Zeff, more at the universe than at Hector specifically.

Hector didn’t seem to interpret it that way, though. “I don’t know...”

It probably wasn’t the boy’s fault. Zeff knew that. Hector had no reason to lie that Zeff could think of.

Unless Emiliana was telling him not to say anything, of course. That was certainly possible. And it wasn’t difficult to imagine what her reason would be.

The Black Scourge. That bastard. What did he want with her? If he was hurting her in any way... it didn’t matter how powerful he was. Zeff would find a way to kill him.

If all of that was true, however, then Hector would be at fault. For listening to Emiliana over Zeff. For thinking that Zeff wouldn’t do what was best for his own child.

That was what was bothering him. That possibility.

But it was only that, he knew. A possibility. And an unlikely one. The boy was probably telling the truth. Probably.

Probably...

He scowled and heightened his pace in order to put some distance between Hector and himself.