Chương 136: An Old Acquaintance

Gasping in surprise and pain, Lloyd stirred and, squinting, looked at the cause of his fall. Dust from the impact was still settling around him in small, swirling flakes, and the air was thick with the faint, teasing smell of spilled coffee, mixed with something warm, almost scorching, as if an oven door had just been opened nearby.

Passersby gave them a wide berth — some tossed a brief curious glance and hurried on with their business, while overhead came the muffled rumble of another passing train, drowning out the rest of the street noise for a moment. Feeling a fairly familiar heat radiating from the figure in front of him, he felt a lump rise in his throat, and an unpleasant chill of recognition ran down his spine even before his mind managed to fully piece the picture together. Finally, he got a good look at him.

Standing before him was a man wreathed in flame — tongues of fire rippled smoothly across his entire body, crackling and hissing faintly where the cooling coffee still dripped onto them, as if the fire were part of his very being rather than mere clothing or armor. The heat coming off him was noticeable even from several steps away, but it was quite bearable, almost pleasant against the cool evening air that had settled over the city along with the dusk.

But on his face, to Lloyd's surprise, there wasn't a trace of anger — only genuine, almost childlike astonishment frozen into his features, and wide, blazing eyes shining brighter than usual, in which tiny sparks danced like embers from a dying campfire. Lloyd mumbled quietly, still not quite believing his own eyes, his voice coming out hoarse, as though he hadn't spoken in a long while: — Brand?

The fiery man, unable to contain his overwhelming emotions, shouted at the top of his lungs right there on the street, so loudly that several nearby passersby flinched and turned to look, and someone from a group of young Players close by even let out a startled whistle, watching the two of them with curiosity: — Lloyd! Catching the stares of the passersby on himself, Brand grew a little flustered, coughed awkwardly, sending a small burst of sparks flying from his mouth, and held out a hand to Lloyd.

Lloyd took it, feeling a strong but perfectly tolerable heat run across his palm — not burning, but rather pleasantly warm, like a sun-heated stone — and pulled himself to his feet, still swaying slightly and rubbing his bruised elbow, on which a fresh bruise was surely already forming.

Brushing the dust off his clothes and off his red backpack, worn and weathered from no shortage of adventures, scratches, and someone else's claws, Lloyd looked Brand over from head to toe and asked, still not quite recovered from his surprise: — What are you doing here, of all places?

Brand scratched the top of his fiery head, and the motion sent a faint ripple through his flaming hair, as if the fire itself had hesitated for a second about letting a hand reach in there, then snorted, clearly amused by the whole situation. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. — That's exactly the question I was about to ask you. Lloyd just shrugged, a little embarrassed, glancing away toward the nearest shop window. — I failed the Exam.

Didn't leave me with much of a choice after that. That's why I've been wandering around the islands of the Vortex of Oblivion. Brand crossed his arms over his chest, his eyebrow shooting up, as though an entire pile of questions had suddenly stamped themselves onto his face all at once, questions he was clearly having a hard time holding back. — Out of all the regions for beginners, you picked one of the most dangerous ones.

Cheeks flushing slightly, Lloyd looked away, suddenly finding something extremely fascinating about the tips of his own boots, as though the answer to every possible question of the evening was hiding there. — Well, those gates were the closest.

Brand kept eyeing him with the same suspicion, narrowing his eyes slightly, as if trying to spot some hidden, more sensible reason behind the choice, but then he threw up his hands, apparently deciding it wasn't worth digging into the topic any further — not in the middle of a busy street, anyway, in front of dozens of random onlookers. — Ah, whatever, doesn't matter. I've got a proposal for you. Lloyd raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. — I'm listening.

Brand cleared his throat, which sent a tiny burst of sparks flying from his mouth, startling a woman standing nearby into flinching and muttering something indignant under her breath, and began, apparently not noticing the effect he'd just caused: —... As you've probably figured out, I didn't pass the third stage either. I've got a home here, which is why the Vortex of Oblivion is the closest region for me. Its gates are right in my city, after all.

Lloyd's eyebrow climbed even higher, his face openly puzzled, mixed with a touch of suspicion. — So what were you doing in my city, then? Brand tilted his head, as though Lloyd had just asked the dumbest question of the entire evening, and something resembling condescension mixed with mischief flickered briefly in his flaming eyes. — Well, your city came out from under the Veil a year ago. I was curious to see what the land looked like a couple hundred years back.

Lloyd glanced up, somewhere toward the narrow strip of darkening sky visible between the skyscrapers, dotted with the first, barely visible stars, and let out a short breath, conceding the point.

"That's a fair question, actually a pretty pointless one on my part. Seems like I really need some rest as soon as possible," he thought, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him from somewhere deep inside, as though the conversation, easygoing as it was, was draining the last of the strength he had left after a long day. — Fine, fair enough, — he muttered aloud, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to hide the fact that such a simple answer had genuinely caught him off guard.

Suddenly Lloyd noticed Brand's fiery head give a little jolt, the flames along his face flaring up a touch brighter than usual, casting a flickering, warm glow across the nearby wall, and the man himself seemed to gather himself somehow, as if bracing for something important, and then he spoke again, leaning in a little closer, his voice taking on a far more businesslike, almost conspiratorial tone, dropping lower without quite meaning to, as though he didn't want anyone else nearby to overhear: — Anyway, doesn't matter, let's get to my proposal.