Enmity of Atlas

“What were you lot doing out there all alone? It’s dangerous around these parts,” the man said, his face completely covered by the wreath of brown fabrics wrapped around himself, goggles blocking his eyes.

That he didn’t immediately recognize them meant that the people here were likely uninformed about what was going on in the world, the desert blocking news from traveling to them, “There’s a lot going on outside the desert right now. We’re on our way to Zerital,” Trenton said, trying to keep it short and sweet.

“On foot? Well I’ll be damned. Can’t say I know many folks crazy enough to try that. You were making good pace out there, though, some solid muscle on you,” the man said, indicating towards Trenton.

From the large building, a short man emerged, stumbling towards them. All around them there was heavy chatter and bustle, the people dismounting and tending to their stormas, people from inside coming out to check up on all the commotion. The little man held up his arm for a simple solute, his voice shrill, “What’s your report sir!?”

The man looked around them, his gaze locking onto all of the stormas that they’d been traveling with. Of the ones Trenton had seen when they first hopped on, only about half remained, the remaining ones carrying a vast array of injuries. The man cursed, clutching the reins hard in his hands.

“No dice. We got through the whole ruin, but there was nothing there. All we succeeded in was waking a nest of vultures. I’d say we’re down about half from when we set out. I’ll do a full head count once we’re inside. Oh right, we’ve also got some refugees,” the man said, indicating towards their group, “so I’ll be seeing to them.”

As the man talked, even more people came flooding out of the base, each one wearing the same thick robes. They started shepherding the stormas in through a side door, likely taking them to the stables. A clothed figure came up to them, motioning towards their stroma. They dismounted, letting their own massive storma get taken with the rest of them. Millie and Kiva pouted, clearly sad to see it go, even though they had only just met it. The man started forward, the rest of them following behind.

“So what’s the deal on the outside?” The man asked, his voice gentle. “News doesn’t travel well through the desert, especially around these parts.”

Trenton quickly gave him the rundown, covering all the crazy events he happened to be at the center of over the last 2 months, his words quick and concise. He’d already given this same spiel to several different people at this point. It was growing a little tiring. The man didn’t say anything the whole while Trenton spoke, leading them through a large steel door and into the stone building. The entire place seemed to be made of the sandstone they’d been climbing on for a while, a massive interconnected weave of hallways and chambers for who knew what operation. It was an impressive build, the work of easily hundreds of talented geomancers over potentially months. When Trenton was finished, the man continued leading them on in silence, taking turns and heading through miscellaneous doors.

After a little while, he sighed, his voice now more weary, “I guess we’re on the same page, then. I hate to break it to you, but we’re in the same position over here, constant fighting, bickering, war. It’s nasty. That’s why we’ve got this complex out in the middle of nowhere. We used to operate out of Zerital, but tensions grew too thick,” the man said.

“Tensions?” Garrote asked, ripping his gaze away from the walls to actually give the man his full attention.

“Last I heard, the salamanders and humans in Zerital were practically at eachothers throats, but that was a while ago now,” Trenton said, filling in with information Delis told him a couple of years ago.

The man nodded, looking over at Trenton, “It’s even worse now. Fights are breaking out all over the city practically daily. It’s only a matter of time until they just try to kill each other. Arnis seemed content to just let it play out, so we had to leave.”

“Who do you mean when you say we? Whose we?” Millie asked, her tone sugary and pressing.

“I guess it’s not really much of a secret anymore. We’re called petrichor. The idea is to effectively found a safe haven in the middle of the desert, a new city, but that’s a lot easier said than done.”

“How would you even do that? Isn’t the Liafer the only livable land in the desert?” Kiva asked, her face scrunched up.

“Yes and no. Our leader, my boss, has the ability to make new sustainable sources of freshwater, his aspect. The only problem is that we’re being hunted. Another group, dragon’s maw, thinks there’s some great dragon sleeping under the desert. They kill people to try to wake it up or something. I’m not really sure why. I just figure they’re all insane. They won’t dare go after Zerital, not with Arnis there, so they go for us instead,” the man said, exasperated.

“So why not just live in Zerital then? Even with the civil discourse, it has to be better than being hunted out in the middle of nowhere.

“There’s a couple other reasons actually, disregarding the political problems. Mainly, Zerital’s location is horrible. It’s so far towards the north that it’s subject to easy attacks from the Bloody, the desert barely providing any protection. Once you get further in, more towards where we are now, it becomes a lot harder to launch large scale attacks, which means a city located in the dead center of the city would be the perfect refuge for refugees. Baspheler and the cloud isles are fine refuges as well, but they're both in the east, and difficult to get to at that. This fine establishment,” the man motioned around them, “is the start of that endeavor. Once it’s safe, we can found the city in a more proper location. You can think of this as a temporary base, a more permanent one, the main one being where the actual boss is. If we can find where those cultists are hiding, then we can be rid of them once and for all. That’s our primary goal right now,” the man said, leading them through a final door and into a big spacious circular room.

He stopped in the dead center, taking off his goggles and undoing his robes, revealing his face to them. He was aged, maybe in his 40s with sandy colored, wavy hair hanging down to about his shoulders. That he was able to keep it all so bundled up under the fabric was remarkably impressive.

“The names Urime. I’m technically the second in command in Petrichor, but the boss around here. You’re all welcome to stay here as long as you want, but I imagine you won’t be staying too long,” the man said.

Trenton shook his head, “Not if I can help it. I’d like to set out as soon as it’s safe.”

“We’ll provide you lodging and meals in the meantime, then. If you stay for a little while, I’d ask you to put in some work, but if you’re just going to be a couple days, it isn’t worth the effort. I’ll just ask one favor of you,” the man said, drawing out a sword from his side. “I’d like a quick spar. I don’t get much as far as challengers here. We’ve got a couple of solid fighters, but most of the people here aren't particularly skilled. I’m curious what some outsiders are capable of. You’re young, so I’ll consider this some impromptu training.”

“You want to spar?” Trenton asked, looking around. He seemed to have taken them to some sort of arena away from the regular crowd.

“That’s right. I’ll take you one at a time. I’m curious what you’re all capable of, at least while you’re here.”

“Alright, I’ll go first,” Trenton said, hoisting his hammer in the air. It was a simple request, and a solid payment for lodging and food. From behind them, a taller man walked in, his robes mostly undone, his face visible.

“I’ll take the rest of you to an area where you can relax. We don’t have a lot, but we’ll give you what we can,” the man said, leading everyone out of the room until only Trenton and the man were left.

“You ready?” He called out.

“Of course,” Trenton replied.

***

Leo trailed behind the group, wrestling with his own thoughts. Despite how much training and experience he had, it never seemed to matter in the heat of the moment. He’d always freeze up, make a mistake, let everyone down in one way or another. He wanted more than anything to just be able to fight like everyone else, but he couldn’t; and it was infuriating. Even back on the bridge, he had meant to cast a really big spell, all the magical potency he could summon, but he froze at the last second and only a trickle actually came out. He had so much magic welled up within him, but could barely use any of it.

The man led them into a large dining room stuffed with people, rows of long banquet tables covering the floorspace. They sat down in a more open section, the people around them rather friendly and sociable. In front of them, they had plates of mostly fruits and vegetables. It seemed like they didn’t have much meat on hand, what with being in the desert. They sat down, eating and chatting, enjoying eachothers company, the lot of them having a merry, blithesome time. Leo, however, felt hollow. He wasn’t following the conversations, his mind lost in its own world. Even as the man started explaining where they were, what was going on, what they’d been doing, Leo didn’t listen, his mind ravaged with insecurities. These thoughts, and others, had been plaguing him for so long he had barely even spoken in the last 2 months. He felt worthless, like a sack of bricks they had to carry with them. When danger struck, he wanted to be there for them, fighting on the front lines with everything he had, not trying his best to shirk around the fight, to do just the bare minimum to keep himself alive. He wanted to-

“Leo?” Kiva’s voice pierced through the thick fog surrounding his mind. His whole body was shaking, his hands clutching his legs with a vicious fury. It seemed that, in his ruminations, he had lost control over his whole body.

“Are you alright, man? You’ve seemed really stressed for a while now. You looked like you were having so much fun back with the spirits, but now you just look miserable. If something is going on, you can talk about it,” Garrote reassured him. It was a nice sentiment, but their buttery words wouldn’t assuage his feelings. He needed to prove himself, to do something.

“Yeah…I’m fine. I just need to let some frustrations loose. The sparing should help clear my mind,” Leo lied.

They all looked at him concerned, but didn’t press the topic further. After about 20 minutes, Trenton came back battered and bruised. He looked to be in good spirits, even though he’d clearly just suffered quite the beating.

“Damn he’s fast. He kept getting me from the sides before I could switch my guard. Didn’t help that I was lugging my hammer around the whole time,” Trenton said, scanning over the group. “He said he wanted you next, Kiva.”

“Alright,” she said, quickly leaving the room to go back to the arena.

After about 10 minutes, Kiva came back in a similar state as Trenton with much the same to say. She then called Garrote, who went off to fight. 25 minutes later he also came back, his body beaten even worse than the other two. With no one else left, he called Leo forward, patting him on the back as he walked out of the room. A servant from outside led Leo straight to the chamber where Urime stood waiting, his blade limp at his side. He looked a little battered, but was otherwise mostly alright.

“Leo, right?” Urime said

“Yes, that’s right,” Leo responded, pulling out his blade.

“I see you’re ready to go. We’ll be doing simple combat training. I’ll be calling you out as we go, so try to listen to my advice.”

Leo coated his sword with fire, streaks of flame hovering in the air whenever he swung his sword. They clashed back and forth for some time, the man far outpacing Leo. His skill and strength were both obviously greater than Leo’s, but it didn’t seem like he had any magic to boast of, which did technically give Leo the advantage. Leo tried to keep summoning his fire, to cast any semblance of a spell, but it wouldn’t come. Everytime his desire would build to a crescendo, the man would approach him, and Leo would lose the sudden burst of energy. It was just like before. Leo was useless the moment actual danger came. He just sat there like a dumb oaf taking strikes and cuts. What was even the point of him trying?

The man was saying something, but Leo wasn't paying attention anymore. He was getting angrier and angrier, swinging his blade with more strength and reckless abandon. Leo could feel the fire inside of his body building up, burning with a great inferno. Why couldn’t he do it? What was wrong with him? Everyone always told him his father was so great and noble and brave, so why wasn’t he? He hated it. He hated every second of it. He couldn’t bear it any longer. And when he couldn’t bear it any longer, he forgot himself, his control long gone.

Leo’s body started steaming, the fire within him pouring out of his body. He was generating so much magical potential, that his body physically couldn’t contain it anymore, the heat radiating from him in layers. He was practically bursting from the seams with raw power, an inferno that couldn’t be quenched. The man stepped forward, trying to take advantage of Leo’s lack of focus, pushing through the burning, but this time, Leo couldn’t bear it any longer.

Fire started to burst out from his body in every direction, walls of fire in no particular shape scorching the ground and the walls. His entire body was glowing like molten lava, his magic now infesting his very skin. He was going to release it, all of the pent up rage, everything agonizing that he’d been toiling over for the last month, right here, right now. But just as he was about to simply let go, a thought struck him, a rather sobering thought.

Now simply wasn’t the time. What would he get from this? Satisfaction? That wasn’t it, he’d just be hurting people for no reason, potentially even destroying this room, maybe beyond. He couldn’t just let his magic rampage, no matter how much he wanted to cut loose. He had to stay focused, drive his strength towards when it really mattered most, what really mattered most, and now wasn’t that time. Leo pulled the fire back into himself, drawing the raging inferno back into his core, storing it for another day. When next they saw combat, he swore he would deliver everything he had into it, but now wasn’t the time.