Chương 23: 22 Ashbreakers

I pulled my soaked cap low, gritting my teeth against the sweltering heat. It had been uncomfortably warm at Los Colmillos. Scorched Rock proper was an inferno. Acting incognito wasn't easy when stepping into an alien landscape. We hurried across the basalt road, glancing at the structures built from pumice, obsidian, and various other volcanic rocks.

A pair of Primords chatted about records and permits as they strolled across the street, unbothered by the heat, as if it were a warm morning and not a heatstroke-inducing fever. A laugh turned my attention to three guards, Vulcans in ceremonial breastplates with shields and lances, patrolling lazily. The ground rumbled. I twisted, recoiling at the figure that stood almost as tall as the two-story buildings. Grey marbling marked her ashy skin, and her glowing eyes shifted my way lazily.

The motion set her thick braid of red hair swinging. Fire Giant. My mouth went dry. A Fire Giant on the streets of Paradise would scatter civilians, earning screams of terror. Here, this goliath was just another civilian. Ingred caught my hand, tugging me along.

"Stop staring," she murmured.

"You'll draw attention." I nodded, pinching my damp scarf and pulling it higher. Apex Wrath was active, and I wore my Bracer of Fire Resistance. All things considered, this furnace could have been much worse. We turned, and the colossal tower stretched up into the sky. Glittering and black, the Obsidian Tower dominated the center of Obcity. Looking up, I spotted a half dozen objects soaring through the air—carpets, bearing passengers whose details were lost to the distance.

As I walked, I found myself trying to count the floors, figuring out where I was supposed to leap into open air with nothing more than a shaggy floor textile. Something hard clattered across the street, and I glanced over. A pair of Tephrites shrieked in an alley as they tried to wrestle a burned bone from each other. I forced my gaze back to my feet. I was too uptight, too wound up. But why shouldn't I have been? We were in Obcity. A proper Bloodwake metropolis. Here we'd be considered spies.

If captured, we'd become political leverage. Or worse—executed as an example. I swallowed, but my throat was dry. Barkley strode confidently in front of me, a new hobgoblin wedge dangling from his belt—the greatest threat to my party. The only thing more dangerous than an open enemy was an enemy pretending to be a friend. My mind replayed the meeting. I'd immediately gone to Naomi and the others, revealing what I knew.

After discussing our options, we'd come up with a half-dozen plans for navigating the pirates, none of them good. My vote was to abandon them completely. The problem was that it would set us back rather than get us closer to our objective. In the end, Naomi had decided to continue with the original plan, though with a few adjustments of her own. Barkley tensed, as if feeling my eyes, and I forced my gaze back to my boots. He'd been cagy around me; no doubt he knew I could have overheard his conspiracy.

Perhaps that would be enough to dissuade him from acting on it. I didn't believe it. We should have booted him and blown off the whole plan. Naomi stopped outside a tavern, glancing at the sign. I coughed lightly, expelling built-up heat from my lungs. I suppose that was an important part of being on a team. Committing to the plan and doing your part, even when you didn't agree. Still, the second that rat turned on us, he'd find a descending boot, not cheese.

She stepped through the doorway, and the others followed. Foreign characters marked the sign—some flame dialect of the primord language. I didn't need a translation to know what it said. The Ashen Keel. I stepped from the boiling outside into a suffocating swelter. A fire blazed in the hearth, and my wet clothes immediately started steaming. A trio of short Magmotes jabbered at one table, nursing tankards far too big for their little hands. Otherwise, the utilitarian space remained bare.

Naomi crossed to the bartender, who shifted towards us. He was a primord, with green skin that bordered on yellow, and warm blue hair. An impressive mustache curled over his lip.

"Welcome," he said in Paradise Common, his voice heavily accented. Thick forearms tensed as he leaned over the counter, taking in our protective wrappings.

"Foreigners? What'll it be? Should I douse the Fire?" My finger twitched. Of course, we were obvious foreigners. Was coming here too big a risk? Part of the reason we were using Orc pirates to raid the docks was that they'd blend in better than we would. Still, this was a meeting we needed to have face-to-face.

"Looking for Ignis," Naomi said, voice low.

"Ah," the barkeep said, glancing from the closed door to his trio of short patrons.

"Best if you stepped into the back." He swung a section of the counter open and motioned for us to follow. Ingred's eyes hinted at a reassuring smile beneath her scarf. I followed last. The doors opened to a kitchen with an island counter laden with pots and cauldrons. The barkeep nodded once before slipping back to the front. A back door swung open, and Ignis stomped in.

"Ignis," Naomi said.

"You weren't discovered."

"It's off," Ignis said.

"The whole deal. Keep your stupid tears, just get my family off this island!"

"Hold on now," Naomi said, holding up a placating hand.

"What are you talking about? Were you discovered?"

"Not yet," he said, wringing his hands and glancing over his shoulder, as if expecting to find secret police and not a pantry.

"But I will be, soon. The Auditor is here."

"The who?" I asked, glancing at Ingred and finding her just as confused as I was.

"The Auditor," he said hurriedly.

"An Exploit."

"What's an Exploit?" Bianca asked.

"A Bloodwake User," I said, recalling my conversation with Ourabora.

"They're like Cousins in Paradise, only for the other side."

"You can't do this," Ignis continued, shaking his head.

"That steel has been moved from deep storage to the docks. They've reduced the guards."

"Why would they lower security?" Bianca asked.

"It's bait," I said.

"They know we need it, so they set a trap." Ignis nodded.

"He'll be watching, waiting, and ready." Naomi folded her arms, humming as she bit her lower lip.

"What about your rebel contact?" she asked.

"We need a distraction. Something to draw attention away from the prize." Ignis went quiet, gaze shifting from her to Barkley.

"I made contact. They said they'd meet you. But I suspect it's just to renegotiate their tears."

"You'll be paid Ignis," I said.

"That's final." His teeth clenched tight.

"Listen, I'm a lot more interested in getting out of here today than the stupid money." He rocked back and forth, clutching his elbow.

"My life is over, I'll become a refugee. Hiding for the rest of my life."

"Ignis," I cut in, snapping my fingers.

"Focus." His eyes locked onto me.

"We need that meeting." He nodded slowly.

"I'll get you your meeting, but I'm not going home after that. You're taking me to your ship. My family can't stay."

"Actually, we need something from you," Naomi said. Color drained from his plum face.

"We need you to get the port authorities to load those bars onto a ship. We have another crew that's going to smash and grab." A low moan escaped his lips.

"Impossible. You realize this is a trap just as much for me as it is for you? The moment my signature authorizes a move, I might as well be signing a death warrant."

"Ignis," I said.

"I'm sorry, and I don't want it to sound like I'm cheapening your sacrifice, but it sounds like you're about to be burned anyway." He shook his head.

"Why would they honor my writ? That steel isn't under my jurisdiction; it's in the ministry of investigation's hands now." The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"But if what you're saying is true," Ingred said thoughtfully.

"They would want to make us think our plan was working; it'd be the only way to lure us into the light. I'd load steel if I thought it would help catch us."

"But you'd lie in wait," I said.

"A powerful Exploit waiting for a crew of desperate Paradisian smugglers."

"Only he won't find us," Naomi said.

"He'll find Orc pirates."

"What?" Ignis asked, pitch climbing.

"Long story," I said.

"We got help."

"We need Snapfist to succeed," Ingred reminded us.

"We can't push him into a trap."

"What we need is a good distraction," Naomi said.

"Something they can't afford to ignore." She leaned over the counter, looking Ignis in the eye.

"We need the rebels."

"You're assuming they're going to help you," Ignis said.

"They don't care about your cause. Sultan Al-Harraq has been torching their cells for generations. They're cautious, they won't trust you." I leaned against the counter.

"If they really hate the Sultan, that'll be plenty of reason for them to lend a hand, right? Enemy of my enemy, and all that—" Ingred pinched her lips.

"Will it work? Even with a really good distraction, that's exactly what the Auditor is going to assume it is."

"I mean," I glanced at Bianca.

"It's not like it's our only diversion. The alarms in the palace will be triggered as well." Ignis' violet skin practically drained to pink.

"Why are the palace alarms being tripped?" A humorless chuckle escaped me.

"Oh, we didn't mention? We're also robbing the sultan."

"Madness," Ignis whispered.

"All of you—insane."

"Listen, Ignis," Naomi said firmly.

"This is no longer an underhanded deal. This is a full-blown operation. Three tactical strikes. Simultaneously."

"At the same time?" He folded his arms tightly as he rocked back and forth. I know you think that lends strength to your plan. It weakens it. If one part fails, the others come down with it." Naomi's jaw tightened. That wasn't a revelation to her; no doubt, very similar concerns had been plaguing her mind over the last three days.

"Good thing we're not asking you to fight," she said at length.

"All we need from you is a meeting and a signature." He glanced up, the bags under his eyes deepening.

"Your crew will get me out of here? Whether you succeed or not?" Naomi nodded.

"They will." Ignis' lips pressed into a tight line.

"Fine. I'll arrange the meeting." I kept my eyes up at the ash mounds as three figures appeared. Vulcans, heads wrapped in turbans and faces covered. Scorched-made muskets tilted generally in our direction without being trained on us. They watched from the mounds as we passed below, ready to move at the first sign of treachery. Ignis took the lead, my party and Barkley following behind.

"The Sultan recently executed the survivors of another cell," Ignis warned in a hushed voice.

"They may be especially suspicious." We passed a Vulcan child, herding cindergoats. The young shepherd glanced our way before driving the livestock away. I watched the sentries carefully as they started walking parallel to us on their ashy ridges. From their elevated position, they had us flanked and funneled. Hardly an ideal place should they decide they'd benefit from turning on us. I kept my hand from drifting to my belt, where a brace of pistols joined my cutlass's usual heft.

Ahead, two more Vulcans and a Primord barred our way. The smaller Vulcan and the Primord gripped muskets. The taller of the Vulcans gripped an arcane staff.

"Halt!" the staff wielding Vulcan ordered. We complied. Ignis tugged at his baggy sleeves, glancing around the camp.

"I brought the foreigners, as requested."

"No weapons," the spokesman grunted. I glanced at Naomi, who nodded. I unbuckled my belt and handed the arsenal rig to the Primord. My boot knife came out next. The mage gestured to Ingred's rings, and with a sigh of reluctance, she surrendered her spell foci. Naomi finished handing off her daggers and nodded.

"Follow," the mage ordered, and we fell into step behind him. My eyes darted, scanning the camp as the tent appeared. Three Vulcan women attended a gaggle of nine children, each eyeing us skeptically. With muskets ready, an adolescent Primord and a very pregnant Vulcan followed us with their eyes. The mage stopped at a larger tent before waving us in. Bianca took point, and I slipped to the back. Carpets covered the ground, and two Vulcans sat on dusty cushions.

The first one was a woman, tall and poised, seated cross-legged. A chunk was missing from her cranial box—the bony shield that framed her brow. A sheathed scimitar rested across her knees. The Vulcan to her right scanned the others, then his gaze fixed on me, taking in my posture and build. I'd recognize that look anywhere. One warrior sizing up another. A breachshot carbine rested across his lap. If my mouth weren't so dry, I would have started salivating at the weapon's lacquered wood and oiled steel.

"Welcome," the woman said, motioning to the other side of the low table. A cushion had been laid out for each of us. I cautiously sank to my seat, wary of these strangers. Without another word, the woman poured us each a cup of tea.

"Drink," she said simply.

"It is our way." My team accepted the cups, and I cringed inwardly. The last thing I wanted here was a hot drink. I pressed the cup to my lips, but not wanting to scald my tongue, I didn't drink. Based on Naomi's pained flinch, she was probably the only one to actually take a sip. Our cups went back to the table.

"I am Teledila of the Ashbreakers," the woman said.

"I—oversaw three cells. We lost one recently. You are from Paradise?" Naomi hesitated, glancing at Barkley.

"We are."

"Cousins?"

"I wish," she shook her head.

"Paradise has dispatched its Cousins to other tasks. We're not privy to the details." I forced my eyes ahead, refusing to look at Barkley. If the Pirate hadn't been present, she may have told the truth.

"I'm Fravrik," the male said, planting his forearms on his knees.

"You have the tears?"

"We do," Naomi said, then quickly added.

"They're safe."

"But you're missing one?" Teledila asked.

"Ignis told us you used one to destroy a Primordial?"

"I did," I said. Her lips tightened.

"We need those."

"That's why we're here," Naomi said.

"We were hoping to facilitate the trade. Perhaps persuade you to help us on a joint operation."

"Yes," Teledila said, black crust flaking from the orange skin around her lips.

"We heard about your orange steel. Shame Ignis couldn't complete the handoff." Her eyes darted to the registrar, who tensed. Interesting. She blamed him, not us. Perhaps it was just posturing to leverage good relations.

"We can pay our original price, reduced fairly for the missing tear," she said at length.

"Pay it to Ignis," I said.

"We promise he'd be paid."

"Ignis. Paradise. It doesn't matter to me where the money goes. So long as I get my tears."

"That's the thing," Naomi said.

"I was hoping to strike a separate deal in addition to the tears."

"Oh?" Teledila asked.

"What deal?"

"We're getting our orange steel," Naomi said.

"But we need a diversion. We need someone to attack a soft target that the Sultan can't afford to ignore. We were hoping you'd help us."

"Let me get this straight." Fravrik cut in, resting his hand against the butt of his carbine.

"Not only do you want us to buy the tears from you. You want us to also put our lives on the line for your mission?" He shook his head.

"Sounds like you're asking us to pay twice. Once with gold, once with blood." Naomi pursed her lips.

"If we're striking against the Ash Lords, I'd hoped our interests would be aligned."

"What do you offer to ensure success?" Teledila asked.

"Well, you'd have the tears," Naomi said.

"And you'd have us."

"Us?" Teledila asked, glancing over to Fravrik.

"Do you have a company of infantry hidden in your pocket? Maybe an Uncle hiding in your ship? Or do you mean the five of you?"

"Actually," Ingred chuckled.

"Two of us. Naomi and I. The rest have other roles they need to play."

"Two more fighters?" The rebel leader snorted with derision.

"Thank goodness, we couldn't possibly fail."

"What if—" Naomi glanced at Ignis sympathetically.

"We gave you the tears for your help in lieu of payment? We'd find other ways to compensate Ignis, you keep your money for other much-needed supplies?"

"Do I need supplies?" Teledila asked.

"Or do I need soldiers? Kinsmen willing to break their chains?"

"In working with us, you'd get us," Ingred pointed out.

"For a time."

"I'd lose men," Teledila growled.

"Sons and brothers. Most of our fathers are already gone."

"I'm telling you," I said.

"When we strike, we're not going to bruise the sultan. We'll kneecap, break his ankles, and humiliate him all at once. Don't you want to take part in that?" Fravrik's head bobbed slowly.

"I see the appeal," he said.

"This could be the start of a larger Ashbreaker-Paradise cooperation." His eyes drifted up.

"But we don't know you. We have no idea what you're capable of. How can we gauge your odds of success?"

"Those odds go up drastically if we have Ashbreakers wielding the Tears at our side," Naomi pointed out.

"No," Teledila said decidedly, and the tent went silent as every head turned to her.

"No?" I blurted, probably allowing the subtle influence of Apex Wrath to add extra heat to my words.

"I thought you hated the Sultan. Hasn't he oppressed you? Doesn't that make you angry? Hurt him with us. If you're cowards, just say it." Ingred's fingers brushed my arm, pulling me out of my own head. Teledila's eyes pulsed with heat.

"Cowards?" She leaned forward.

"Tell me, outsider. What do you know about our caste system?" My gut dropped; I'd been rash. But now that I'd said it, I'd stand by my words.

"Nothing," I said.

"In the mind of an Efreet, only their kind are actually people," Teledila said.

"Them and anything with power. Nothing weaker than them deserved anything. No freedom, no respect, no family."

"Primords come next, a servant race. Elemental mortals who are smarter and more civilized than Vulcans." She shifted, exposing a brand at the base of her neck.

"Then there's us, at the bottom—expendable, base. In our temples, the Efreet preach that they are our gods. They created us to serve, and to die." Her eyes pulsed again.

"They're right. For centuries, my people have wanted change, and for just as long, there have been those of us who have resisted. We have never overthrown an Ash Lord. Not once. Thousands have perished trying. The best I can hope to do with my life is inconvenience them by disrupting their order." Her jaw bulged.

"Cowards? Seven of our members were executed two days ago. They knew they'd probably die, and not for anything more than the opportunity to spit in the Ash Lords' faces. Were they cowards?" My shoulders loosened.

"No," I said softly.

"They weren't."

"Math," Teledila said.

"That's how we survive. Watching the percentages. We do as much damage as we can, but when we're rooted out, we hide, growing our numbers until we're strong enough to corrode the Ash Lords' gears. No. We won't win, but not because we're cowards, but because we're survivors." The tent went silent.

"You're sure we can't convince you to join us?" Naomi asked.

"We're going underground," Teledila said definitively.

"Time for another cycle of hiding." Ingred cleared her throat.

"If you won't go with us, then perhaps you can recommend a target. Something the Sultan can't afford to lose." Fravrik's head jerked.

"You mean, you're still going through with it?" Naomi nodded.

"With or without you, we're moving on the Sultan." Fravrik glanced at Teledila, lips twitching as if he wanted to say something. He didn't.

"What of the tears?" Teledila asked.

"I'm afraid we don't have a deal," Ingred said, rubbing her palms.

"If we're assaulting Obcity alone, we're going to need every last one of them." <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 02: 01: 17: 54: 09>>