Spark of War (Progression Fantasy)

Without thinking, El ignited the flames under her feet, the world slowing and stretching around her as she stepped to the right. Circling around and to the side of the stationary enemy, she pulled on the blade to cut it in two before her lead foot even landed. But, as she tried to slash, the blade resisted her, like it was caught in thick mud. In fact, it wasn't just her blade, but her whole upper body as she struggled to force the strike.

I can't attack while stepping.

El barely had time to finish the thought before her lead foot hit the floor, and the stretching world snapped back to normal. As soon as it did, the resistance to hauling on the sword vanished immediately, and she whipped it around in her one, good hand. With her left arm still bandaged tightly against her body, she braced her front leg and tightened her abdomen to keep herself from over-balancing. It wasn't her most elegant swing, but with the newt still completely motionless – like it hadn't even noticed her – her blade would easily carve right through it.

And… yet… something was wrong.

Sword cutting through the air so fast it was practically whistling, blue light glowing across the back of the lizard, and shadows receding across its face, that sense of wrongness only grew stronger. Why hadn't the newt reacted? Sure, she was fast, but not that fast. It should've been able to put up some kind of defense, but it literally hadn't moved. Not an inch.

Her weapon now only inches away from the newt's back, something in the back of her head told her to abort. She couldn't, though. She'd put her whole body into the swing, and she'd never be able to stop with only one arm. What could she…?

A push of energy from her Spark down the blade changed the whistle in the air to a tear. The world seemed to slow again, but this wasn't because of El stepping, and instead just her eyes widening at what she was doing. Blue flames erupted from the plasma like glow running along the edge of the sword to cut through reality.

An inch before her sword would've cleaved through the back of the still-motionless newt, the blade – a foot above the hilt – vanished within the In-Between. Her swing continued through the newt, blue flames cutting a line directly in front of her, until the blade tore back into reality just on the other side of the newt's chest.

Without the resistance of hitting her target, El couldn't maintain her footing, her body twisting with the momentum of her swing. She practically corkscrewed in place, only the quick steps of her feet ringing out on the stone floor keeping her from falling completely flat on her face. One, two, three awkward, flailing steps, and finally she regained control of her blade.

Just in time to look up to see Dayne and Sol reaching the top of the stairs.

"Maybe graceful would be a better middle name," Dayne said in the same way he said everything else.

"Shush," El said, first looking at her blade – How did I even do that? – but went back to the newt now behind her. Somehow, unsurprisingly, the new stood in exactly the same position it had since she'd reached the top of the stairs. And, now that she wasn't focused on attacking, she spotted the small pedestal under its feet. That wasn't the only pedestal either, other shapes within the darkness becoming visible as she took a step closer to the thing she'd nearly cut in two.

"A statue?" Dayne asked.

"Too realistic," El said.

"Taxidermy," Sol said. "This is a kind of museum level."

"Tax…?" El started to ask. "Wait, you're telling me this newt is stuffed?"

"That's one way to put it," Sol said.

El stared at the ferocious face of the lizardman, the way the muscles bunched under the thick scales, and the sharp teeth practically glowed in the blue light of her sword. The thing's hands had to be at least twice as wide as Dayne's, with each of its three thick fingers making sausages look puny – Yeah, I really could do lunch… – and the heavy axes in each hand were definitely real.

However, for the first time this close to a newt without it trying to kill her, El also found herself taking in some of the other details. Two rows of darker-red scales ran from the top of its eyes, across the top of the newt's head, then down its back. Lines like tattoos of some kind covered the top left side of its chest – the scales there slightly lighter – then ran up to its shoulder and down just its left arm. There, around the wide neck, was a thick band of leather, with what looked like a carving of a small lizard stitched in the middle.

From the proportions of it, the carver was either really bad at what they were doing – or it was a child.

"It's like a locket," Dayne said, looking at the same thing El was. "Was this its kid?"

"I… suddenly feel a whole lot more guilty about fighting the newts," El said. "I never thought of them as anything other than monsters, but if… if that's actually a locket, they had families too. Lives."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Of course they did," Sol said. "Their culture is actually quite full, with tight communities, extensive – though violent – sports, and a unique form of theatre that I'd describe as almost opera-like."

"Newts have opera?" El asked flatly.

"Yes. They're quite talented, really," Sol nodded. "You'd be surprised by the high notes."

"Not sure I could be more surprised than I am right now," El said, then quickly shook her head to banish the image of newt-opera. "The wolves, can you still sense them?"

"Yes," Sol replied, turning from the newt to look to his left. "They still haven't moved. Maybe another forty feet that way."

"Let's go, but keep your eyes peeled. With all these – are they all stuffed? – things around us, anything could be hiding."

A small blade ignited in Dayne's hand, red flames dancing to expand the circle of light around the trio. Despite the weapon he held, El wasn't sure how much fight the man had in him.

Who am I to talk? If I think I can fight, why can't he?

Trusting in her friend, El focused on the shapes resolving from the shadows as she got closer. Many of the specimens seemed to be common animals, their expressions strikingly lifelike despite being frozen for eternity. But, mixed in with the everyday cats, dogs, and other normal animals, was the occasional thing El had no name to describe.

A squat, six-legged beast that looked almost like a fallen log with feet had a wide mouth that appeared far too much like a creepy smile for comfort. A bird with four wings – How does that even help? – and a beak almost as long as El's forearm. A pair of fish that stood on two legs, though each was only as tall as El's knee. And…

… and a hangnail.

Claws shining in the light, the piranha-like face was unmistakable. Unlike a living specimen, however, the skin looked dried out, but El still made a mental note to come back and make sure she had a good look at it.

"If there is a hangnail here, there must be information on the Depths," Dayne said.

"You're right," El agreed, but didn't say more than that, three sets of eyes glowing in the darkness ahead and clearly staring right at her. Almost as if noticing the eyes was a cue, a chorus of threatening growls crawled out of the shadows to reach El's ears.

Ignoring the implied danger, El continued forward, her circle of light moving forward with her until it illuminated the three small wolves. Teeth bared back in a ferocious snarl, the growls reverberated from their chests as the each stood with their body language promising violence.

Then again, since they were each only up to about El's knee – and about as much threat as a newborn puppy thanks to her frost armor – a lot of the intimidation factor was kind of lost. In fact, they were pretty cute. Maybe I can keep one as a pet…?

Grrrr, one of them growled, its front claw scratching on the stone floor at the same time. Lines of carved stone parted beneath the sharp claws, and El quickly re-evaluated the three small wolves in front of her. If their claws were sharp enough to damage stone…

"They aren't normal," Sol said.

"Can't disagree with that," El replied stopping her approach as the pool of light continued past the wolves to land on a closed door. "And, is it just me, or are they guarding that door?"

"Sure looks that way," Dayne said. "We going through them?"

"The fourth Spark, Sol?" El asked.

"Beyond the door," Sol replied. "Now that we're closer, though, I believe I know what's going on."

"Care to share?"

"Better to show," Sol said, then stepped in front of El. The growling of the wolves increased in intensity, but Sol paid them no mind.

With his new uniform hiding his wiry frame and making him seem thin, it was easy to forget what he really was. And the power he commanded. While he no longer regularly wore the armor or mantle of the Stormbearer, this was still the man who'd brought Pycrin to the brink.

"I know you're in there," Sol shouted, snapping El's attention back to the present. "Your pets can't protect you if we choose to enter, but I'd rather it didn't come to that. We are not with the Depths, and instead seek a way to defeat them. If you're who I think you are, you can help."

"Who does he think they are?" Dayne asked El quietly through the magic of their communication.

"No idea," El admitted.

Sol took another step towards the door, and the three wolves took a threatening step forward, the growls from the small beasts practically echoing in the loud space somehow. Sol, for his part though, simply looked down at them, and then there was a pulse of power. Cold energy billowed off the man in a wave, ice spreading from his feet and covering the floor, the wall, even the ceiling in front of him in a wide semi-circle. Growls turning to yelps, the wolves scampered back, their claws clip-clap-scraping on the ice as they slid and lost their balance.

Another step forward from Sol had them retreating all the way to the door, despite the thin layer of ice coating it. While one of the wolves completely fell and slid into the door back first, the other two struggled to regain their threatening front.

Somehow managing to ignore their absolute cuteness, El instead stared at the wolf lying on its side, belly facing her. Or, more accurately, the long scar running the entire length of its body, perfectly down the middle of its chest. If that had been a injury, there was no way it could've survived that. Except, it didn't look like an injury – it looked like the small wolf have been stuffed and mounted. Taxidermized.

What the Blaze?

"Last chance," Sol called out, though he stopped his approach on the door. "Much more and I'm afraid even your work won't be able to resist the cold."

The two wolves continued to growl, and then, just like that, they stopped. Their heads turned to look at the ice-covered door as if they'd heard something, before each sat down on its haunches.

"Fine, fiiiiiiiine," a thick voice called out from behind the door. "Don't freeze or burn me the moment I open this door, alright?"

"There was somebody alive here?" Dayne asked. "I thought the Depths took everybody."

"Hey… the door is stuck," the voice said a few seconds later. There was a gentle rattle through the barrier of ice, but it was clear the mysterious person was correct.

"Apparently not everybody," El said to Dayne, while Sol lifted a hand, and the ice covering the door vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

With the ice gone – and the three wolf-pups sitting attentively – the wooden door finally opened. More shadows seemed to spill out, and then a tall figure ducked out. Standing easily nine feet tall, and almost reed-thin, the stranger wore a dirty and ragged robe that had probably been red at one point, with a hood draped over their head. Skeletal hands – as in literally skeletal – emerged from the long sleeves, then lifted up to pull the cowl of the robe back, revealing the pristine white of bone. Red flames danced in the otherwise empty eye-sockets, and the skeleton looked at each of the three in turn.

"Well, since you're here now," the skeleton said. "Can I offer you some tea?"