Irwin's Journey - The Cardsmith

Irwin followed after the others as best as he could, but now that he wasn't the one in the lead, he found they had been holding back more than he'd known. It took all his effort just to keep up, let alone have any energy left to look around for things to jump them.

He also noticed his body was hurting. The muscles in his legs and back screamed with every step, but not in the same way he knew. Then, it had been weakness and overuse. Now, he felt a different pain, and he couldn't explain it.

Over the last few days, he'd come to accept the fact he had to do things because the others didn't dare, want, or think of them. Though he'd complained at times, it had also brought a sense of self-worth. Now that he was relegated back to being the runt at the back of the pack, the slowest and weakest, he realized just how much it bothered him.

It didn't matter that he could use his fire to kill more imps than any of the others... if it came to something as simple as running, he was left in the dust.

And he hated it.

Even Greldo is doing better than me, he thought, his fists clenched as he forced his aching body onward. Shouldn't this special card be making me stronger?

As his thoughts turned dark, part of him knew that he was asking too much, even from a card that might be rare. It usually took a year before significant changes were noticed when someone slotted an uncommon, and though it was probably faster with better cards, it was unlikely to happen within weeks. Not that he knew that much about it. He didn't know anyone who had cards higher than uncommon.

Perhaps if I survive, next month I'll be as strong as Greldo is today, he thought, watching in envy as his friend jogged after the others, out of breath, red-faced, and sometimes stumbling, but keeping up.

Ahead of him, Olban reached another bridge, this one next to a four-story stone thing that could barely be called a building. He stopped and looked around, seeming to try and decide if they had to cross this or continue circling to the next one ahead.

The previous times, these moments had given Irwin the opportunity to catch up, but he was so far back that he knew he wouldn't. Worry grew as he wondered if they would leave him behind. He stumbled along the edge of the building, trying his best to cover the hundred feet between him and them.

A red blur moved from the roof of the building. If he hadn't been so far back, Irwin knew he wouldn't have seen it.

"Look o-" he croaked, his weary body not even allowing him a shout.

Olban must have heard something because he looked up at the last moment. A massive Imp, easily twice as tall and much heavier than the other Imps, slammed into Olban, knocking him off the bridge.

“Olban!” Greldo shouted.

Irwin stopped, his hands on his knees as he almost slumped to the ground. His body cared nothing for what happened ahead, and he struggled to keep his head pointed forward. The Imp stood on the bridge, its large, leathery wings curled up on its back, and a massive belly hung over a loincloth.

How can that even fly? Irwin thought before seeing the others hesitantly take a few steps back.

"So you are the ones that have been killing my minions!"

The Imp's voice was deeper than the high-pitched ones of the smaller ones, but his slimy smile was almost identical. He put a hand on his stomach, leaving it there as if it were a table while raising the other to his chin and tapping his lower lip. It glared intently at the group, which had backed up and was now huddled together and shivering. Daubutim stood at the front, his club out, while Rachel stood beside him with her shield.

"Now… What am I going to do with you? It will take a year to replenish my forces. Such bad humans. Perhaps… Ah! I know exactly what to do!"

The Imp's smile turned even more malicious as his wings spread out and, with a massive beat, pushed him a few feet up.

"I'll torture you until you pay me back by entertaining me!"

Irwin tried to force himself up, run towards them, and summon his flame to help, but his body decided this was the perfect time to break down. He crashed to his knees, eyes ahead, just in time to see Greldo turn to him. Hidden behind Daubutim, his friend pointed at the building and mouthed hide!

"Time to prepare my meal," the Imp screeched.

It belched, and a torrent of flame erupted from between its lips, starting as wide as its mouth but quickly fanning out to cover the group in a sea of fire.

A panicky, high-pitched scream erupted from somewhere in the fire, and Irwin looked away from the blinding gaze. He expected spots to cover his vision, but there was nothing. With incredible effort, he pushed himself up and stumbled sideways toward the nearest entrance leading into the building. Another cry came from behind him, this time one of anger.

Don't get caught, Irwin thought as he staggered into the rubble-filled hallway.

Unlike the neat stone and brick buildings in Malorin, the walls around him were a dull, dusty gray, with long, thin gauges running diagonally from left to right. The hallway led to another that split up, left and right. The left led to a staircase going up, while the right seemed to curve around deeper into the building.

Hearing another high-pitched scream from behind him, Irwin hesitated. Should he go back? He couldn't just-

His legs buckled, almost causing him to fall, and he gasped.

Scout, and maybe we can use it for the next time, he told himself.

He turned toward the right corridor that led down. He was barely standing, and moving up the stairs was unlikely. Trying his best not to picture the others being caught and tortured, he moved further into the building. Part of him was surprised at the size of it, corridors leading up, down, and further away.

It's built into the pillar, he thought as he stumbled along the narrow path with dust layered thick on the ground. The sounds from behind had died down, muffled by the layers of rock surrounding him.

Don't get caught, Greldo!

–

Greldo jumped to the side, barely managing to dodge the claws. The skin on his face was tight, his eyes blurry, and pain everywhere. Daubutim was the only one still standing, but his face was red, his eyebrows burned off, and he was stumbling to the side.

"Look out," Greldo croaked.

Daubutim took two more steps and toppled from the ledge, vanishing without so much as a scream.

"No! Come back here so I can torture you," the Imp screamed.

Right, a quick end! Greldo thought, looking around.

Twintin was crouched on the ground behind him, crying and covering her face. He stepped forward, triggered his skill, and grabbed her arm. He made sure not to crush it and used as much power as he could to pull, then throw her to the edge.

Twintin let out a high-pitched scream as she vanished over the edge.

"Jump!" Greldo croaked, then growled, and tried again, only managing a half-baked shout.

"No! No, no, no!" The Imp screamed.

Greldo didn't even bother looking at it.

Make sure you get us some information, he thought, thinking of Irwin, even though he knew it was highly unlikely. Irwin had been almost unconscious from exhaustion when he'd walked into the entrance from which the incredibly hot air had come billowing.

He stumbled to the edge and didn't bother looking down but just leaned forward. Gravity grabbed him, yanking him down, and a moment later, he was plummeting down, his stomach clenched and arms flailing.

Far below, he saw Twintin vanishing in the molting rock. There was no sign of Daubutim, and a few seconds later, he closed his eyes before hitting the scorching molten rock.

His last conscious thought was that he hoped Rachel and Olban had jumped.

--

Another dead end, Irwin thought as he put his hand on the wall, head hanging.

Who built this place? He was about to turn back when a trickle of warm air flowed around his sweaty and matted hair.

What? Where is that coming from?

He looked around, trying to find the origin of the air current. It took another two warm breezes for him to know it came from above.

Was there some sort of ledge or hole? He moved closer to the wall, and only then he saw them. Hidden in the shadowy part of the wall were handhelds, chiseled into the existing cracks and tears of the rock. They were positioned in such a way that even his near-perfect night vision had barely been able to pick them up.

He gazed at them, then up. From this position, he noticed that the wall continued beyond the ceiling, and there was a narrow, half a foot wide gap with more handhelds leading up.

Is it a secret? he thought.

He suddenly recalled stories Bronwyn had told him about some portal worlds where the linchpin was hidden away.

He looked at his hands, then up, then back at his hands, and with a sigh, sat down. Who was he kidding? He couldn't get up there now, even if someone offered him a legendary card for it.

As his body relaxed, he felt a gnawing pain in his stomach. Hunger. It was something he had grown used to over the years, but it surprised him how fast it had come up this time. Until then, he'd only been slightly peckish. But now? As his stomach rumbled, he wondered how the others were doing.

Although he was hungry enough to eat anything edible, he was even more weary, and he felt his mind go numb. He tried to keep from falling asleep, but the room was cozily warm, gloomy, and quiet, and his chin kept dropping to his chest.

Stay awake, he thought, wondering why the room seemed to grow dark.

--

A soft rumble shook the entire room, tiny debris dropping on his head, and Irwin snapped awake. How could he have fallen asleep?

His body was aching, and his legs were numb, but he didn't feel even half as bad as he had before. A distant rumble shook the pillar.

What is going on? Are they still fighting? That made little sense, he thought, looking up and noticing the tracks he'd left in the thick layer of dust.

He must have slept for a long time because his mind felt sharp. He instantly missed Daubutim. No more easy way of knowing how many hours had passed.

He forced himself up, trying to ignore the thick dust billowing around him. Another shudder ran through the building.

Up or back, he thought.

Then he tried to imagine finding his way back through the maze-like building and shrugged. Up it was.

I hope Greldo and the others died quickly, he thought, not something he'd ever imagined thinking before.

As he put his first hand into a handhold and pulled himself up, his arm shook but held. He gingerly continued, stopping each time another shaking happened. He had to pause halfway to catch his breath but eventually pulled himself over a ledge into a hallway rife with dust and tiny debris. It was barely high enough for him to stand, leading away into the darkness and curving to the left.

Twenty feet in, he reached an intersection. The long, winding path down continued left, while a short path led to a handhold wall similar to the one he had climbed up. A soft rumble came from above.

He licked his lips, dry and cracked but not yet bleeding, and shivered. He had no idea where he was going… What if there was some demon spider ready to jump him? After a moment's hesitation, he turned back to the long curving hallway. He focused on his card, summoning the finger-sized flame, then continued, ready to hit anything that came his way with the flame.

The corridor seemed to go on forever, continuing left and down.

Irwin thought about stopping and going back a few times, but where to? The Imp city, all alone? He shivered at the thought. He could just continue seeing what was here and, after that, wait for the time to end.

At some point, a pleasant warmth began coming from the wall. It had been warm in the tunnel already, but now the temperature continued to increase. When it reached something comparable to a warm summer day, Irwin stopped and pressed his hand on the stone to his side. It was hot, though not enough to hurt him. As he looked at it, he frowned.

I wonder if the others would have been able to stand the heat, he thought as he looked at his flame.

Ever since he'd gotten it, he'd not really had trouble with anything hot. An image of how the lava burned him alive flashed through his mind, and he shivered. Right, almost nothing hot. He had no idea how long he walked, but the temperature kept increasing, and at various times, a soft orange glow could be seen from the walls. A faint rumble came from above, but it was so distant that he mostly only felt it through the soles of his feet.

Wait… feet? A quick inspection showed the soles of both of his boots were gone, just some charred edges remaining at the sides to show they indeed had been there.

Irwin ducked and put his hand on the ground. It was warm, hot even. But this hot? He gently put a tiny part of his sleeve on the ground.

Flames flared up, and his sleeve instantly caught fire. Irwin yelped and yanked it back, slapping it against his leg to stop the burning. When it stopped, he had burn marks on his pants, a jagged hole in his sleeve, and even more respect for his own card.

I'm not impervious to fire, but it's close, he thought as he saw a few minor red scuff marks on his hand where it had touched the fire.

He continued down the corridor until he finally saw an end to the blasted thing, or so he hoped. A bright glow began to cover one side. A soft bubbling and dripping came from there, and he quietly headed forward. The light was so bright he didn't worry that his flame might draw any attention. And beside the fact that if he let it go, it would revert back to its starting size, he felt more secure with it ready.

As he stepped around the last part of the wall obscuring his path ahead, Irwin stopped. The tunnel widened rapidly, and beyond it, a landscape of black stone and small waterfalls of molten rock filled a massive cavern. It dwarfed even the one he'd been in before. Clouds of dark smoke hung in the air, billowing from vents in a chaotic maze of black rock.

In the middle of a lake of molten stone was a piece of land, and upon it stood a black anvil the size of a small hut. Curled up, with wings covering its head, lay a fat Imp. From this distance, it was hard to gauge its size, but it was definitely bigger than the one that had attacked his friends. As frightening as it was and as imposing as the anvil, neither was what made Irwin's eyes gleam.

A red sphere hung from a chain attached to the top of the anvil, glowing brighter even than the molten rock.

The Linchpin! Irwin thought. It had to be, right?

Looking away from what he hoped was a sleeping Imp, he inspected the crumbling, narrow path leading toward the island. It started not too far from him, near the bottom of a slope and beside one of the lava waterfalls, which was good. The problem was, to get there, he'd have to move out in the open.

He shivered.

If I get it… do I get a card? And what if I go in again and get it again? Two?

As his mind began imagining having two cards, a tiny seed of greed grew into a raging flame. Two more cards, and he could become a full hand! His chances of surviving would increase so much… Even more, he could explain the oddities of his first card by spreading them across the others!

Irwin licked his bleeding lips and moved out of the wide and tapered tunnel exit, looking left and right. There was no sign of any more Imps. If he could sneak up on the big one… would his flame work? So far, it hadn't let him down, though he wished he could have grown it to its biggest size.

Unable to hold back, Irwin ran towards the nearest rock and hid. It was a short dash to the start of the narrow, winding bridge and then a five-minute trip. But if he succeeded!

Irwin Roddington, think before you act!

His mother's stern voice seemed to echo from the depths of his mind, her face disappointed as she shook her head after he'd done something foolish again.

Irwin shook his head. He was doing it again!

Calm down, calm down, he hissed to himself, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

When he finally felt the incessant urge to run towards the Imp die down, he opened them again. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

He slowly climbed back from the rock to a higher position and thoroughly inspected his surroundings. The chances of there being only one Imp here seemed odd, and with some being able to fly, perhaps more were hiding?

Ten minutes later, he had found half a dozen other tunnel openings in the wall, and the one he had checked was similar to the one he'd come from. What he hadn't found nor seen was movement outside of the molten rock. Calm and steady this time, he moved back to the start of the stone bridge, staring at the lava next to it.

What's the worst thing that can happen besides falling in that stuff again, he thought as he steeled himself and snuck forward.