Toren Daen

I rested intermittently on Aurora’s back as we flew over the Beast Glades, her large bronze feathers reflecting the evening light. The wind that whipped past us was cold and biting, but I was sheltered by the even warmth of the relic’s heat.

A week had passed since my original pseudo-punishment was sent out, and I was heading back to the Alacryan encampment. I’d exhausted my entire supply of corrupted elixirs, and what I had to show for it…

On my final attempt, I’d managed to heal one mana beast of the corruption. The process was painful, hellish, and would likely leave that particular beast mentally scarred for the rest of its life, but I’d done it.

That was what was truly important. That I could wash the taint of the Vritra from a beast core was what I set out to prove in the first place in the Beast Glades. Because if I could cleanse that corruption from a core, that meant that Tessia’s Elderwood Guardian…

I’d also managed to reach my quota of ten corrupted AA-class mana beasts through the help of Aurora’s relic. I could cover ground far, far faster with her assisted flight, meaning I had a far better range to hunt my prey.

Fuck you, Cylrit, I thought smugly, holding the pictures I’d taken of each corrupted AA-class beast with the camera artifact he’d provided me. I actually managed to complete the task you gave me.

“You take far too much pleasure in irritating the Retainer, my bond,“ Aurora prodded, flying close to the tops of the trees. “I begin to worry if it is not detrimental to your health.”

I scoffed, though the sound was carried away by the wind. “I dislike Cylrit for perfectly justifiable reasons,” I argued back.

“And those are?” my bond queried, tilting her large avian head. The suns in her metallic eye sockets seemed to sparkle with even more amusement.

I elected to look at the rushing forest below us instead of meeting the knowing glint in Aurora’s eyes. “He made me regrow a tooth,” I said after a minute of trying to find a good reason. “That is one of the most uncomfortable things to heal. I think I reserve a right to bear a grudge.”

“I’m sure it is,” Aurora replied with an amused chuckle. “There is no other reason. Certainly not one that has silver hair and wears dark dresses.”

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something so shallow,” I retorted, crossing my arms. “I thought you knew me better, Aurora.”

Outwardly, I displayed annoyance and surprise, but internally I cringed.

My bond shifted to observing the rolling hills–each littered with thick, thick trees–and opted to send a comforting stream of warmth over my bond. “I am old, Toren,” she said with slight amusement. “Do not forget that I was the focus of many proposals in my time. I know what it looks like for men to squabble over a woman.”

I winced. Ouch.

“Hey, Aurora,” I said, feeling a bit uncomfortable from how close to home my bond’s words had reached, “We’re getting close to the encampment. I’m going to revert the relic now so we don’t get spotted.”

The phoenix sighed audibly, which sounded like a puff from a steam engine. “As you wish, my son,” she said chidingly. “I am ready.”

I swallowed, then reached a hand toward my sternum. I called my lifeforce to my hands, the light streaming with orange and purple hues as I grasped the incorporeal tether that streamed into my core.

I couldn’t see the vein of heartfire that tied the feather in my core to Aurora’s relic without the use of my Acquire Phase, but I could hear it.

With a slight grunt, I pulled the invisible vein from my chest, holding it out. The relic began to shrink and twist inward on itself as its source was removed, shifting away from its Vessel Form. I held my hand out absently as I began to fall from the sky, my mode of transportation having vanished from beneath my boots.

A bare mental nod from my bond told me that she’d retaken control of the relic in its Puppet Form. I engaged my telekinetic rune as I approached the trees, aligning myself so that I landed perfectly on a branch.

The entire tree shook from the impact of my feet considering I’d been going at a considerable velocity beforehand, but my assimilated physique–combined with the fact I bore the blood of the phoenix–protected me from any damage.

Back to the basics again, huh? I thought, staring across the trees as I mapped my route in advance. Most of the trees didn’t have leaves, though a select few species appeared to bear leaves the color of snow. I’m back to parkouring across a forest. Who would’ve guessed?

I set off a bare moment later, bounding across the limbs of the trees at a considerable pace as I set a path toward the Alacryan camp. The familiar process of bounding across trees, the feeling of each stretch of wood bending underneath my boots, and the rush of wind across my hair made me feel a bit of hearty nostalgia.

I wondered how Naereni was faring back in East Fiachra. I wondered if she’d taken my advice on contacting Alaric, or if she’d decided to forge her own path. She had big boots to fill now that Karsien had left them.

I knew Wade no longer worked his job at the library in lieu of the Plaguefire Incursion, but I wondered if he would try and get another job. He’d told me once in confidence that he worked at the library to try and connect himself to his family. They were normal, struggling people, and he felt he needed to do something to detach himself from the gritty work of thievery.

And Sevren… Sevren would be fine. Especially after he’d gained his mechanical arm, I had no doubt he would reach greater heights of strength than before. If he were to encounter the aetheric millipede as he had in The Beginning After the End canon, I only hoped that he’d leave enough of a corpse for Arthur to absorb. Especially with Caera by his side, I felt confident he would achieve whatever goals he set in front of himself.

I had asked Sevren if he wanted to send me letters over the months, but the mage had–as always–been distrustful of the Alacryan system. He didn’t trust any message that he sent to reach me un-tampered.

“The risk is too high that the message inside will be something entirely different,” he’d said while working through old martial forms with his new arm. “It would be just like the Vritra to do so.”

Part of me wasn’t so sure about his reasoning. Part of me still worried this was his way of shutting himself off from the world. But Caera had promised me that she’d make sure her brother didn’t fall into his reclusive ways again.

I hope he finds a way to mend his relationship with his family, I thought sadly. Lenora Denoir was… deeply hurt by him.

Sevren had told me of his falling out with his mother, where he’d learned the truth of Abigale’s death. He’d told me in visceral detail how she’d left him, washing her hands of keeping him safe. But it had caused a fundamental split in their relationship.

I fell out of my musings as I approached the encampment. I couldn’t sense anyone within, of course, as a few casters were tasked with keeping up a consistent barrier to obscure the group’s presence at all times.

I dropped from the trees as I got close, my senses expanding as I passed the barrier. I walked forward, wondering where I’d find Cylrit.

Yet my thoughts were broken as I felt a fast-thumping heartfire not far ahead. The intent in the air was laced with putrid fear, while more than a few other mages pulsed indignation and satisfaction in turn.

What is going on? I thought, feeling my brow wrinkle in confusion.

Aurora’s puppet flew forward as she sensed my worry, weaving through the trees as she surged toward the main part of the camp in a blur of bronze. I walked forward purposefully, not knowing what to expect.

My bond’s disgust hit me like a wave. Those beasts, she hissed angrily, whatever she saw rousing her ire. Do they not know shame? Is this what they do with prisoners?

Lady Dawn’s words set my heart racing in my chest. On instinct, I reached a hand out to my side, my fingers feathering through Aurora’s tether with her puppet. And as I saw through her eyes for a bare moment, I felt my own mood dip into something dark and angry.

The group of commandos Cylrit had ordered to deliver bottles of liquid corruption–the Bastards Victorious–crowded around a single man. The captain was forcing a captive man’s head under a barrel of water, holding it there for an extended period, before roughly pulling him out by his hair.

The captive gasped as they finally had air again, coughing and sputtering weakly as they struggled against their bonds.

“See, this is what we do with rats,” Captain Jordan Redwater sneered. “We drown them, bit by bit. Isn’t that right, you elven trash? This is what you like, isn’t it?”

With surprise, I noticed that the captive was an elf. Their ears were long and pointed like knives that stuck out from short-cropped hair. The commandos laughed as the elf cried out in pain before his face was shoved underwater again. His hands–which were bound behind his back by thick rope–showed obvious signs of torture. His fingers were clearly broken, smashed as if by a hammer.

I withdrew my hands from Aurora’s tether, feeling fury surge in my gut at the witnessed torture. My first instinct was to call on my magic and barge into the clearing and bully the commandos into submission, flexing my intent and baring my fangs like a beast.

But not all problems could be solved with strength alone. If I were too forceful, I’d disrupt the careful equilibrium Cylrit had managed with his presence over these Alacryans. Furthermore, I couldn’t afford accusations of treason were I to appear too protective of some random Dicathian.

But I couldn’t leave that elf to his cruel fate. Cylrit had told me these men were trained directly by the cruel Retainer Uto, and I shuddered inside to imagine what they would do to someone defenseless.

I found myself thinking of Seris as she’d faced off with Mardeth under the guise of Renea Shorn. Without an ounce of killing intent, she’d maneuvered her way into a victorious position. I needed Seris’ strength here: her cunning and foresight.

I felt Aurora’s steady anger fueling my own, but she was careful to let me think. The soldiers ahead weren’t torturing that elf for information, that was certain. They were going out of their way to be cruel.

That’s my angle, then, I thought, steadying my breathing and bringing myself under control. If I wanted that elf out of their grasp, I needed justification. Furthermore, I needed a cool head and a firm hand.

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I strode forward, using the elf’s terrified heartbeat as a beacon as it drew me from the treeline. Soon enough, I saw with my own eyes as the captain took his time holding the elf’s head underwater.

One of Captain Redwater’s cronies, whose hair looked like it had been singed in a fire and bore ragged burns all along his face, noticed me first. His eyes widened as he rushed to talk to his leader, causing a commotion.

The eyes of the seven guerrilla warriors focused on me with intensity. Their intents surged at my presence, anger and anticipation rising. I forced myself to keep my expression steady as the Redwater man pulled his captive from the barrel, tossing him to the frozen ground and kicking him hard in the ribs.

The elf cried out in pain as something audibly crunched. My hands twitched where I held them behind my back.

“Well, if it isn’t Spellsong,” the leader of the Bastards Victorious jeered, the dark paint under his eyes seeming to darken in the low light. “Are you done with your little quest already?”

“Captain Redwater,” I said with restrained anger, my eyes darting to the elf who moaned pitifully on the ground. “What are you doing right now?”

He knelt, picking up the elf by the back of his ragged leather armor. “We were just entertaining a guest, weren’t we, boys?” Jordan Redwater said with a laugh. “Found this one sneaking around our camp like a rat, so we had to show him what we do with rats. We found ourselves wondering at their strange magic, you see.”

The captain’s knowing eyes held my own, searching for any sort of reaction as I strode forward. “They don’t use runes, you know. But we wondered if their mana was somehow bound to their hands since they always wave them around to cast their spells,” he said, grinding his boot onto the elf’s broken hand. The captive cried out in pain.

“But he kept on casting his magic even after we broke his hands for him. But they always chant their words, so now we need to try the next logical thing,” he said with a cruel smirk. “He hasn’t been able to cast anything with his head underwater. I think that proves my hypothesis correct, hmm? All that’s left is to cut out his tongue to truly know.”

The captain’s jibes washed over me like fire off a magma mallard’s back. Even as my emotion kindled in my breast, I knew how to keep myself under control from such jeers.

I stood a few feet away from Captain Redwater, eying him severely. From what I could sense of his mana, I suspected he was at least in the mid-silver stage. Furthermore, the rest of his unit–which had shifted to surround me in a half-crescent formation as they watched the interplay–were each either in the initial silver stage or in the light yellow stage.

I narrowed my eyes. Probably regalia holders as well, I thought sourly. These men are powerful indeed.

I looked down at the captive elf. I needed to play my hand carefully. “If you truly want to discover these Dicathians’ strange methods of casting,” I said evenly, “There are certainly more efficient ways.”

Captain Redwater rolled his eyes, spitting to the side. “Efficient? Maybe. But fun? There’s none of that. Are you upset with our methods, soft south?”

At the goading words, the other Bastards Victorious–each clothed in strange camouflaged armor and bearing rugged attire–focused on me, their mana revving in preparation. They wanted a fight.

I strode forward nonchalantly, masking my emotions. Compared to the overwhelming pressure of Aldir, these paltry seven were nothing. I walked until I was barely a foot away from Captain Redwater, the hand not holding the elf’s armor clenching into a fist.

“You are going to relinquish the prisoner to me,” I said with grim certainty to the man in front of me.

“And why is that, Spellsong?” Captain Redwater said, raising an eyebrow. “Please, do tell. I’m dying to know why we’d stop such beneficial experiments.”

“Did you scout the surroundings for more spies after capturing this one?” I asked in turn, making a bet that the man hadn’t.

Captain Redwater seemed to be expecting anything but those words. He blinked, surprised at my sentence. He floundered for a moment, seeming to struggle to respond.

“It seems you didn’t,” I said with a sneer, letting my true emotions radiate out for an instant. “And because you failed to search for more scouts after catching one, you’ve already proven yourself incapable,” I said with finality, tilting my head as Aurora always did whenever she looked at prey. “You have two options, Redwater. Either you continue to torture your captive and neglect your duties,“ I said, flicking out a finger, “Or you can relinquish your prisoner to me, and I won’t let Scythe Seris know of your little fuckup.”

I knew there were no elves left around. My sense for heartfire would have alerted me were there any notable signatures lingering, and I had a feeling that if there had been another group here, they were likely long gone. But the Bastards Victorious certainly couldn’t afford to be known as the group who had captured a single scout and then gotten so carried away in their bloodlust and torture that they’d let any spies escape without any sort of chase.

Jordan Redwater’s face darkened as he recognized the bind I’d put him in. While Vechor was far more brutal in its military inclinations, the punishments levied for failed tactical decisions were just as sharp and scathing as their weapons.

“Now,” I said, holding out my hand, “What will it be?”

The tension between us grew as I felt the captain’s palpable fury radiate out from him. The Bastards Victorious fingered their weapons angrily, but they knew just as well as I that they couldn’t be the ones to start a fight between us.

Jordan scoffed, then threw the elven prisoner to the ground. “Take him,” he said caustically. “His screams were getting tiresome anyway. Boys?” he called out to his lackeys, “We need to do a sweep of the area. Make sure we haven’t missed any more rats.” The captain glared at me. “Maybe we’ll get another to play with.”

I stood stock still as Jordan and his cronies walked away, each sending their own wave of palpable intent out. But just as the captain was about to reach the treeline, he turned back to me. “You’re not as safe with your Scythe as you think, Spellsong,” he sneered. “One day, you’ll see. Nobody is invincible.”

With those ominous words, he swept back toward the main area of the camp, leaving me alone in the forest with the captive elf. When I was certain the seven were gone, I turned to look at the man I’d spared a brutal death.

I was surprised to notice that his eyes were blown wide, looking at me with two orbs of gray. I’d been so focused on the Bastards Victorious that I hadn’t realized he’d probably witnessed the entire exchange.

I let out a breath of pent-up emotion, striding toward the elf where he was bound on the ground. “You picked just about the worst people to get caught by, friend,” I said casually, crouching where the bound man still lay. “The Bastards Victorious were trained personally by Retainer Uto in their cruelty.” My face sharpened into something more serious. “Can you walk?”

The elf watched with small gray pinpricks as Aurora’s puppet settled on my shoulders. He seemed enraptured by the relic, his focus darting between me and it in a frantic shuffle. “I… I can,” he said croakily. He shuffled, wincing as he agitated his broken hands. A bit of blood dripped from his lips, no doubt from that brutal kick a few minutes earlier.

I laid a hand on the elf’s forearm, grasping tightly before he was able to jerk away. He shouted in alarm as my hands glowed with orange-purple light, the energy washing down. His fear shifted to surprise, however, as the bones in his hand began to reknit under the effects of my lifeforce. More to the point, I eased the bruising of his ribs with a simple application of my aetheric touch.

“That’s all I can do for now,” I said, withdrawing my healing. “Without the right tools, the bones will be set wrong.” I cocked my head. “What is your name, elf?”

The gray-eyed elf’s frantic eyes shot back to me. “I won’t tell you anything, Alacryan,” he said with surprising resolve, practically yelling.“I won’t betray my people for you!”

I sighed. “Well, the thing is that I believe you,” I said. “And whether you believe me or not, I am not going to torture you for information. But make no mistake: this is an interrogation.” I looked deep into the terrified elf’s eyes. “I am the only person here who can protect you from pricks like the Bastards Victorious, and that can only happen if you give me something to justify keeping you off the chopping block.”

The elf swallowed, shivering as the winter wind blew through the forest. His mana reserves seemed to be nearly empty, meaning even if he was an augmenter, he wasn’t able to reinforce his body against the chill. “Albold,” he said after a moment. “My name is Albold, Alacryan,” he spat.

I blinked in surprise, reeling back slightly. I recognized that name. And now that I inspected the captive in front of me, I thought I recognized his features, too. “Of the Chaffer House, I presume?” I said, nodding slightly. I brushed off how the elf’s surprise and fear redoubled as I correctly deduced his family name. “That’s good.”

The Chaffers were an elven military house closely allied with the Eraliths. Albold Chaffer, stereotypical of his family’s talents, bore exceptional senses. I could certainly justify keeping him unharmed if I argued he was close to the elven royal family. “Now, Albold,” I said, “I’m going to need to know exactly why you were skulking around our encampment here.”

Truthfully, I didn’t expect an answer to that question. Just with the knowledge I had, I suspected I could make a valid case for keeping Albold as a valued hostage rather than a tortured prisoner, but I had to ask.

So I was surprised when the elf answered. “The… the Trailblazers,” he muttered. “I left them, going out on my own. Disobeyed orders. I’m out here alone. I’m probably labeled a deserter now, but I sensed something… Something I didn’t understand.” His eyes bore into the relic on my shoulder. “What is that on your shoulder?” he asked, his voice caught somewhere between fear and awe. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever sensed. I followed it the best I could, but…”

Albold’s words hit me like a hammer blow. I exchanged a glance with Aurora’s puppet, my eyes widening at the implications. “It seems the Chaffer senses aren’t to be underestimated at all,” I muttered, staring intently at the elf at my feet. “But I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, Albold. Both because you wouldn’t believe me, and because I’m the one asking questions here.”

But within me, another thought made me churn with guilt. He’s only here because he somehow sensed the presence of Aurora’s relic, I realized.

“Not only here,” my bond immediately corrected, nipping at my ear with the bronze beak of her puppet. “This elf chose to disobey an order. He chose to try and track our presence over the Beast Glades.”

I exhaled, then wrapped the young elf under a bound arm as I pulled him to his feet. He groaned as I did so, but I could only afford to be so gentle. “You’re my prisoner now, Albold,” I said with a sigh. “I’m going to ask that you come with me willingly.”

The young elf was silent, but he moved his feet sure enough as I tugged him through the forest. He stumbled every now and then from exhaustion as we neared the main camp, and I allowed him a few moments to catch his breath.

When we reached the main camp, the hostile stares I received were just as potent as before. I let them brush over me as I escorted my prisoner toward Cylrit’s command tent. I thought I received a bit more attention than before as I hauled an elven captive with me.

Albold’s eyes darted around the encampment, seemingly trying to absorb everything at once. He probably thought he had a chance of escaping, and then reporting back to his unit of the Trailblazers.

Cylrit, unsurprisingly, was waiting for me in front of his tent. His pitch-black armor absorbed the low light, and his white cape whipped in the chill wind. His scarlet eyes flashed as he took in Albold. The elf I’d been hauling forward froze like a deer in the headlights as he looked at the Vritra-blooded man.

“A Retainer,” he said in a fearfully small voice, trembling slightly.

Right, I thought with a sigh. Chaffer senses. He probably has a better feel for Cylrit’s strength than I do.

“Hello, Cylrit,” I said, flouring my hand. The pictures I’d taken of the ten AA-class corrupted mana beasts appeared in my hands from my dimension ring. With a bare application of my telekinetic spellform, they arrayed themselves in front of the Retainer. “I’ve completed my task, as directed.”

The retainer’s eyes slowly scanned over the images arrayed in front of him, before snapping back to me. “So it seems,” he said sharply. “What of the elf you have captive?”

I snorted. “The Bastards Victorious found this one creeping around our encampment,” I said, gesturing to his hands and beleaguered appearance in general. “I took him off their hands. Can you contact Seris and get a transport ready for the two of us?”

Cylrit’s eyes–like pools of bright blood–stared into mine. “And why must you take this elf with you, Spellsong?” he demanded.

“This captive of mine is Albold Chaffer,” I said in reply. “He’s from a powerful elven house, closely aligned with the elven royal family,” I said by way of explanation. “He would be more valuable as a hostage rather than a prisoner to torture.” I paused, knowing this wouldn’t be enough on its own to convince the Retainer.

I felt a pit yawn in my stomach as my thoughts drifted down darker paths. I worked my jaw for a moment, thinking of what I needed to resolve myself to do in war.

“And he knows Virion Eralith, the commander of the Triunion forces, personally.”

Albold’s frantic gaze snapped to my side at my words, his eyes blown wide with a different kind of fear. “You can’t use me,” he said with a note of deep fear in his voice as he began to struggle futilely against my arm. “You can’t use me to get to him! I won’t betray my–”

With a guilty application of sound magic, I silenced any noise he made. His mouth moved as he tried to yell, but no voice came out.

Cylrit’s mouth flattened out as he watched the confirmation of my words. “A tempus warp will be made ready for you shortly,” he said with a grunt. “But this elf is your prisoner, Spellsong. Your duty. Any issues regarding him will be levied on your head. Do you understand?”

I nodded, cementing my resolve even as Albold’s mute cries scraped at my conscience.