The same blackened flesh pulsed around me. It clung to the walls and floor, and a few fleshy slits opened and closed over what had once been dungeon cells. Cold power radiated from them, and I recognized the sight of a demonic portal from my earlier travels.
A strangled cry echoed through the chamber from my left. I followed the sound with my eyes and spotted Cinder—I remembered her from the exhibition match—and four other figures in Wysaro garb curled against the wall in an unblemished cell. Spiked bones lanced out from the steel bars to discourage them from approaching, but they looked mostly untouched. Cinder closed her mouth, and her white face stared at me in amazement as I walked closer to her.
“It’s okay,” I said. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
A garbled cacophony of hellish voices echoed from the growths around me. I forced myself not to jam my hands over my ears as they laughed in chorus.
“You’re too late, Swordslinger,” a legion of voices whispered. “The castle is mine. And soon, all of Flametongue Valley will give way to me.”
“Jiven?” I asked.
“No,” they answered. “Jiven is no longer here. We are the Broodmother.”
I straightened up and turned to face the other wall. The organic portals pulsed open, and three enormous creatures pushed through the shimmering veils of energy. They reared their massive horned heads and straightened up in the chamber. Cloven hooves sparked off the stone floor as the minotaur-like creatures leaned forward. Huge arms rippled with corded muscle, and curved teeth protruded from their jaws as they started forward.
I gritted my teeth and let Vigor flood my pathways. “I was wondering when you hellspawn would throw something a little more interesting at me.”
“Lay down and die, Swordslinger,” said the chorus of snarling whispers. “Or join with us. The Broodmother looks after all. We are consuming, ever hungry, and more powerful than anything this plane has ever seen.”
I smiled grimly and hefted the Demure Rebirth. “Allow me to introduce myself.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“We already know everything about you, Swordslinger,” the Broodmother whispered. “Your power, your reliance on your so-called Immense Blades. Your meddling. All of it.”
The minotaur-demons stalked closer. Flames flickered from their nostrils as they snorted and fanned out to cut off my escape routes. Each looked as strong as Kegohr, and I was almost excited to find out if that was actually the case. I lifted the Demure Rebirth, and a small miasma of sand hovered around the warhammer’s head.
“If you already know everything about me,” I said, “then you know how this goes. You sit here and monolog, tell me that I’m doomed and that all hope is lost, then I kick your ass, burn whatever’s left of your little plan to the ground, and walk out of here.”
“We will see, Swordslinger,” the growths whispered. “We will see.”
A gout of flame burst through the entrance to my right and washed over the nearest minotaur. Orange fire danced over the creature’s shaggy gray fur and snuffed itself out a second later. Hamon marched through the archway, drew the attention of the minotaurs, and gave me an opening.
I unleashed a Sandstorm in the midst of the huge monsters. A biting tide of sand hurtled through the confined space, slammed into the creatures, and instantly crystallized into glass. The demon in the middle bared its teeth in an ugly grin and barreled forward to crush me against the spiked bars. I dived out of its path and opened a Mud Geyser beneath its feet. Muck splattered its way over the creature, stuck to its fur, and instantly hardened into clay.
The demon flexed its arms, and the shell of brittle mud fell away from its body a second later. It caught itself mid-rush, swung around to face me, and drove an enormous fist down toward my face. I caught the blow on the Demure Rebirth, and a small shockwave punched outward. The wooden handle trembled under my grip, and Choshi cried out in pain.
“Master, it’s too strong!” she whimpered.
I torqued my hips and rolled free of the creature’s paw. Another minotaur came at me from behind, and I launched myself into the air with a burst of Flight. A pulsing spear of flesh and viscera shot out of a growth on the ceiling and hit me mid-jump. I lost my grip on the technique and smashed into the floor like a ragdoll. Air rushed out of my lungs, and Hamon hurtled past me. Something slammed into him, and he crashed into the wall behind me before collapsing in a flaming heap on a mound of flesh. Black flame cascaded out of the growth and ate into Hamon’s aura.
I pushed fire through my Physical channels and rolled away from a demon’s crushing blow. The floor cracked under the demon’s strike, and I scrambled toward Hamon as fast as I could. He lifted his eyes to me and feebly tried to resist as I hauled him away from the growth on the wall.
The minotaurs were using pure heat to dispel my elementalist attacks. Mud and earth were helpless against them. And I couldn’t use Ground Strike down here or run the risk of the magma element either. Cinder and the other prisoners were too close, and if I opened up with every ounce of power I had, they would be caught in the crossfire.
Hamon straightened up, and new flame washed outward around his body.
“You see?” the Broodmother said. “You cannot defeat us.”
“Swordslinger, you should take Cinder and leave,” Hamon urged. “I’ll keep the monsters at bay. If you can get them out alive, then the clan will survive. We will live to fight another day.”
The light caught the dull steel of the bracers I’d taken from Baldwell.
“And what about the rest of Flametongue Valley?” I asked. “You’d sacrifice them?”
Hamon fired off an Untamed Torch at the nearest minotaur to no
