“So, can you smell any?” I ask as we fly low over the desert.

“No,” Grímr says. “There’s nothing in the sand.”

As much as I’d hoped to treat him to a buffet of metal, I had to rely entirely on his nose to find a deposit. Without my elder’s knowledge, we are left searching the wasteland blind. I know Grímr is good at finding metals hiding within the earth; his body might as well be designed for the purpose. Even with that invaluable talent, he hasn’t been able to detect even the slightest hint during the hours of our search.

Whether there aren’t any deposits below us, or the sand is simply too deep for him to smell through, hardly matters. It is now clear that we are wasting time searching with this method.

I have Grímr rise a thousand metres to give me a good look over the land. We rarely fly too high anymore. The rotten night that grew across the day sky worried Kalma, of all people, so I’m hardly going to tempt fate and rise that high. Not without knowing the height that instigated the event, or what the starry night sky actually was.

On the horizon to the west, the sandy dunes of desert break and the earth opens to widening canyons. I’m curious if it’s the same canyons my tribe wondered through as we tried to escape the Henosis mages all those years ago. Unfortunately, it was so long ago that it’s hard to remember the exact path we took. If I had, I could have simply taken Grímr to the tunnels of the chthonic we’d already cleared out. We spent days mining away at those walls, but there is surely still plenty of cobalt and coal.

I veer to the west, Grímr following at my side. The space by Leal’s side looks incredibly vacant and inviting right now, but adding my weight alongside everything else Grímr’s carrying would feel rude, even if he has yet to complain about it.

As the sand transitions to stone beneath us, a problem becomes apparent; the canyon is too narrow for Grímr’s wide wingspan. If we want to descend and search for metals, we’ll have to go by foot. We could search the surface, but I don’t remember any of the áed mining sites being on the high-ground around canyons.

“I can smell some,” Grímr says. “Copper, mostly, down along that crevice.”

It seems his nose agrees. Down into the canyon we must go. Getting down isn’t hard, but Grímr cleaves a chunk of stone from the wall on the way down. Doesn’t matter how good he gets at controlling the movements of his body, the sheer mass in his size is enough to damage things around him with any lapse in concentration. Thankfully, it’s just a rock wall that is damaged, and not another unfortunate building’s ceiling.

Grímr huffs and glares at his wing in accusation before turning forward, beak raised high in an exaggerate sniffing motion. Leal slides off his back and joins my side as I finish up taking my standard form. I hold my spear affectionately as we follow in stride behind Grímr through the gulch.

Thankfully, Leal isn’t avoiding me anymore. It makes standing by her side to protect her far easier should any wild creatures decide to make us their prey. Leal is strong. What she can do with her water markings is impressive, but her lacking enhancement concerns me.

From the mercenaries I’ve met, mages tend to have less energy enhancing their bodies to instead focus on their output. While directing the enhancement to their capacity might seem like it leaves their bodies more vulnerable, many have methods to protect themselves without relying on their natural defences. Leal is the same, right?

Still, despite the feats Leal can perform with water, she is far more vulnerable than either Grímr or I. It is up to me to make sure she fights nothing too dangerous. If I can, I’ll make sure she doesn’t need to fight at all. I know she doesn’t enjoy it.

Passing between these tall, orange-brown stone walls is incredibly nostalgic. It was so long ago, and yet it all feels so familiar. Grímr stumbles forward, the scent on his nose all that matters as he squeezes past narrow passages and climbs boulders. It is clear to all that as we get closer, he’s getting excited.

As we pass through another section where the walls of the cavern close in, an uncomfortable sensation overcomes me. My eyes pass along the overlooking ledges, but I can’t spot what puts me on alert.

“Stop.” Grímr freezes with a taloned foot raised, but when nothing immediately happens, he casts a curious gaze back.

Each crack, bend and shadow of the rock walls, I watch them all, flicking from one to the other, looking for any signs my instinct is right. I’m not sure what tipped me off, but something about this canyon just screams ambush. Looking closely, I can already spot two hidden tunnel entrances.

This is a chthonic nest. No doubt.

I’ve found a couple of their entrances, but there will be more I don’t know about. Now what do we do? My tribe had their method of wiping out chthonic nests, but we don’t have the numbers to replicate it. If I were alone, I’d charge in to test myself. Test my spearmanship against the brutal savages of the wasteland. But I’m not alone; I won’t put Leal in danger.

“We’re backing up,” I say. “This site’s not worth it.”

The others look at me oddly, but they do what I say. Leal is the first to move back to the narrow pass, and it is only when she’s halfway through do I feel the fist signs of the long-armed creatures. My hand grabs Leal’s, but despite tugging, she doesn’t move; her size too great.

In unison, a dozen chthonic thermal presences appear to my senses. Their tunnels far closer than I hoped, but I can’t worry about that right now; one of the long clawed beasts has appeared on the other side of Leal. My strength isn’t enough to pull her away, so instead, I pull myself toward her and thrust my spear around her body.

The bladed tip glows white with my flames and slices through the neck of the ugly creature. Blood bursts from its skinless mouth as it unleashes a silent, dying shriek.

A cacophony of shrill shrieks explodes around us. The chthonic waste no time rushing us, tearing down the inclined walls from a dozen hidden tunnels. With their wide chests and long arms, they tear through the distance rapidly. Sword-like claws digging into the earth with ease.

The chthonic on the end of my spear engulfs in white flame right before I blast it into the oncoming crowd with a burst of physical fire. With my spear still wedged in its neck, the head tears from the torso and remains affixed to the blade while its brethren become engulfed in my flames.

“Grímr!” despite my call, he’s already in motion, leaping toward the rock overhang. Feathers buzzing along his wings tear through the stone, dropping a cleaved section in the path of the beasts and covering an entire direction of approach. Those rushing in from the right side of the canyon now need to climb the boulder, or join their brethren on the left.

There are more than a hundred of the horrid, bony creatures. Their mindless aggression is the same as ever. Their eyes and teeth unhidden by the skin most other races have to cover those organs leaves a terrifying visage.

Leal brushes off my grip and steps forward, arms glowing. A wave of water tears out of her hands like shot from a cannon, the liquid taking the form of a net as it travels along the ground. Strands of water wrap around the legs of the chthonic as it passes, dragging them to the ground and pulling them away along with the flow.

As effective as the disabling wave is, many chthonics move along the walls, completely avoiding the trapping water as they close the distance.

Dozens of the beasts crash into Grímr together, but the alicanto doesn’t simply take it, the weaving razors buzz as they shred through flesh. His wings and talons both leave nothing but a mush of blood and dismembered limbs as they tear through each chthonic. He moves into the fray, away from us, so he can slaughter without restraint.

I would just melt them all, if not for Leal’s water stopping me. Surprisingly, the ones coming behind us didn’t stop despite the flames that spread from the first dead chthonic now burning away at their bodies. Their very muscles burn to nothing and yet they throw themselves through the narrow path to reach us. I simply amplify the flames between the close canyon walls and incinerate any that come close to Leal and me.

The few that somehow slip by Grímr’s shredding metal form find themselves as target practice for my new weapon. I thrust the blade into the first, only to become annoyed with how hard it is to pull the weapon from the falling creature without having it land on me.

The second and third, I force myself into a rigid, reactionary stance to strike them into the earth with multiple downward strikes. They leap forward, claws outstretch and ready to pierce the first thing they touch, but my spear is there to stop them. One dies instantly, my spear cutting into its head and it tumbles harmlessly into the flames behind me. The other, I don’t time as well, so the creature is treated to the hard metal of my pole rather than the blade. It still slams into the earth with the weight of my momentarily heightened mass.

The next few come in far too quickly to use the same stance. I pivot to a far more challenging stance that requires rapid movements and flowing strikes rather than physical force. It is a style Bunny taught me. One that I’ve not yet had the practice to perfect.

I target the vulnerable points of the chthonic bodies that have a low chance of my spear getting stuck as they continue their motions. With a step, I move into my motion, slicing first through the exposed neck of a beast. But I don’t stop. I keep the momentum of the swing as I step in the path of the next, slicing its stomach open. It falls to the ground in pain, but this is a chthonic, hardly a moment on the ground, and it already flings itself at me. After cutting through the neck of another, I simply step in tune with its momentum, slicing the back of its head, but mostly angling it into another of its kind. The long claws pierce through the face of its kin.

Bunny taught me to aim for any part of my opponent’s body that might leave them disabled. For these chthonic, the throat is a definite kill, but if I go for their wrists as well, I might cripple their mobility. While Bunny told me the back of the ankle was a great target for an albanic, these chthonic don’t really use their feet all that much.

While I dance from one monster to the next, crippling some and ending others, Leal is busy slowing the approach of those that make it past Grímr. I notice that despite her likely having the capability, she never actually kills any, only disables them. Even while they are actively trying to kill us, she remains pacifistic.

Whether Leal wants to participate, that’s up to her. All I need to do is make sure they don’t surround her.

The chthonic are growing dense now. Somehow, despite how many we’ve felled, there are still more rushing out of their holes. My spear spins constantly, never stopping and moving from one chthonic to another, and yet I find myself overwhelmed.

“Leal,” I call over the creatures’ chorus of shrieking. “Pull back your water.”

I could probably burn over the top of all her water, but if I can, I’d really rather avoid it. No matter how strong I get, water remains as painful as ever.

My spinning spear slams into the forehead of a chthonic, killing it instantly, but also wedging my spear-tip in the hard bone of its head. I can’t pull it out quick enough to avoid the next rushing in. The creature slams into me, taking me to the ground along with it.

Leal’s water has mostly receded, but I can see her panicking as they close in. Even with the fear of what will happen, she resists the temptation to push out with her water again, and I appreciate the trust it shows.

My white fire spreads out, incinerating each of the chthonic around us in hardly a moment. Enough white fire to fill this small stretch of canyon. A gift from the recently parted Kalma, who multiplied my capacity with the flesh she left behind.

I want to practice my spearmanship, but not when it will leave a friend in danger.

The blaze spreads over Grímr and burns away the life of any opponent. Those outside the fire screech and holler, but don’t push through the deadly heat. Even these beasts have at least some instinct keeping them alive.

Just when I think it’s over and the chthonic will run off, a deep, howling shriek bellows around me. The sound echoing through each of the hidden tunnels.

Right. Of course there’s another big one.

I grip my spear tight as I remember how my elders dealt with it. A single strike. They didn’t need to overwhelm an enemy with flames, as I do; they could kill it with their blades alone. I’ve grown a lot, but have I grown enough to stand by my elder’s sides?

The earth thumps beneath my feet as the larger chthonic makes its way to the surface. My spear stands ready to take it on. Just like my tribe’s elders did.

“Grímr, can you leave this to me?” while staring at the tunnel I’m sure the beast will come from, I nod my head toward Leal.

Thankfully, he understands and moves to stand protectively by Leal.

My blaze returns to me, but the remaining chthonics standing around the canyon don’t rush in. They hear the loud growling and heavy footsteps too. None want to get in the path of their obvious better.

The beast’s thermal presence appears only a moment before the massive chthonic does. Heavily muscled in the shoulders and arms with claws nearly a metre long, the beast stands amongst its kin like an ursu amongst albanics. Its size and presence so far beyond the rest of its own.

I stare down the beast, ready to test myself, but before I can rush forward, two more bodies appear to my thermal sense. I don’t know why I didn’t notice, but the heavy footsteps never ceased as the massive chthonic came to a halt.

From either side of the canyon appears another, equally tall beast. Their claws shear away rock as they pull themselves from the tight tunnels.

There’s not one major chthonic. There are three.