The Everburning City

Act 1, Part 2, Chapter 6

Vincent

Something pulled at the edge of Vincent's awareness. A whisper, distant and faint, so soft his thoughts immediately dismissed it as his own nervous imagination.

But something about it still drew his attention, and he turned just in time to see the distant, terrifying figure of the Golem just as it began to take a step.

Vincent let his awareness expand, reaching for the fires of the outflow pipes along the wall, and seized a half-dozen of them. A rush of euphoric grandeur washed over him as he flexed new fingers made of dancing fire, heard the wind through ears that hung over a hundred feet away, and saw through eyes that burned.

And through those eyes, he saw the massive creature of stone, eyes blazing with light cast from molten metal. He could hear the howl of cracking stone as the Golem raised its leg, even across the long miles. And he felt, in the way the wind batted at the fire he felt through, as it's crashing step shook the ground and beat at the air.

"Fires below," Vincent said in awe.

Through the fire, he could see his master focused on the ground, and knew she was watching through the flame. Master Polden was half-blind, and seeing something ten miles off was a feat she had long been unable to do without the flame. But the shock had left her wringing her hands, and her mouth open. Crafter Saval's expression was a mix of terror, awe, and something darker that Vincent couldn't place.

Even Crafter Howel was shocked, and his hands shook at his sides.

Vincent looked over to Corporal Redgrave just as everyone else on the wall did. The young man, his hair slick with dirt and sweat, his padded coat ripped in two places, somehow knew that the terror everyone else was feeling had brought their eyes to him.

Something about the sight twisted at Vincent's heart, that this company of a half-dozen Crafters, the greatest power in the City, was reduced to looking at this young corporal for guidance.

And impossibly, magnificently, the man rose to the occasion. He stood taller, rested one hand on his sword, and pointed with the other towards the next watchtower, to the south. "Every report we've read from earlier invasions suggests the Golems march for the Spire. At a straight line from the Golem to the Spire, we believe the next contact point will be half a mile down the wall. Shall I take you there, Crafters?" the corporal asked, the tenor of his voice potent.

His question seemed to shake Crafter Howel's pride loose from the fear that had been smothering it, and he strode forward to put himself at the head of the group. "If you would, corporal. We'll leave now."

Breckan Howel, without turning around, pointed directly at Crafter Saval. "That chest of yours can stay on the burning train, Cass. I didn't ride for sixty miles just to watch a Golem kick in the wall."

The half-dozen Crafters started down the wall, following the corporal. Their shadows fell into step a little ways behind, and Vincent waited to walk beside his master.

When Olivia reached him, she glanced up to the torches he had seized, and asked, "What do you see, Vincent?"

"The Golem's a frightening thing," Vincent admitted. "I've never actually wanted to let go of the flame before, just so I don't have to see something."

"I know the feeling," Olivia admitted. "But look closer. Tell me what you see on the Golem. Your ability to fracture your awareness without loosing your sense of self is impressive, even by the standards of the Guild. Now's as good a time as any to use it."

"Right," Vincent said. And he took one of the flames dancing at the end of the pipe, and shaped it. He twisted it into lines and shapes, moulding fire and light like clay. Metal-warping heat bent beneath his will, stretched at his command, and took shape how he wished. He twisted the flame into wings, carved feathers from air so hot it was rent into plasma, and bound it together into a piece of himself.