[Severed Divinity] 38. New Suspicions (Patreon)

Isen was the only one to find survivors, but two of the guards arrived at the gate with a cart full of grain. When Allezin addressed them, he didn’t mention who had found the survivors, nor did he mention his suspicions about an Eldrassin mage’s involvement. He simply nodded at the wagon and ordered everyone to return to the larger group.

Isen kept waiting for Allezin to make some sort of announcement, but one never came. Instead, the exodus across the lands of Eldrassin continued. The sting of disappointment led to discontent and acting out, so he was occupied with keeping the peace. After the first incident where he’d made an example of the rowdy tier two half elf, most knew better than to test him.

Most, not all. A pure elf was making a stink in Isen’s area, complaining about the long march and all the enchanted goods he’d lost in Shevenar. He was handsome courtesy of his superior inborn physique, and his voice carried.

“We never should have left! We should have waited for reinforcements!”

The small crowd around him crowed their agreement.

“If we’re not safe in a town, then how could we be safe out in the middle of the road, unprotected save for a few weak guards and a coward tier three?”

Isen rolled his eyes. The crowd was getting pretty big, though—more people were joining every minute.

He approached the gathering, and the elf just sneered at him.

“Is there a problem here?” Isen asked. He smiled inwardly as several people in the crowd froze and quietly backed away.

The ringleader tsked and shook his head. “The situation is poor enough that they’ve resorted to having a human boy guard us.”

“I’m a volunteer, not a conscript,” Isen stated blithely. “Nobody asked me to help.”

“All the more reason to be concerned. I don’t feel comfortable knowing that our lives are in the hands of people with no training.”

The elf wasn’t spewing complete nonsense. Think from their perspective, Isen reminded himself. It’s not about the long procession. They just learned that the town they were supposed to take refuge in, or at least shelter in temporarily, was razed. Nothing feels safe anymore. A lone tier three like Allezin isn’t enough to allay their rekindled fears.

“I have training,” Isen said. “Allezin wouldn’t let just anyone protect all of you. Only the strongest tier twos.” He didn’t know if that was strictly true, but his job was to encourage the populace and restore their confidence. He supposed there was an ethical question to be considered. Should he tell them white lies?

Part of him wanted to be straight with them. They were adults and deserved to know the truth of their precarious situation. The more rational part of him recognized that the refugees had very little power to control their destinies at this juncture. They could either continue with the group or go off on their own. With the possibility of rogue drayavin on the prowl, the former was objectively the safer choice.

Since they had no good options, why should he let them agonize over what to do? Why not give them false confidence in the best path?

The elf chuckled, running a hand through his shoulder length, wine-red hair. “You don’t look old enough to be a tier two, let alone a strong one.”

Earlier in the week, Isen might’ve challenged the elf to a fight to prove a point. The man was probably a mage, which would make things interesting, since he’d never fought one. Druinala almost exclusively fought with her bow, and while he got the sense she could use her magic to empower shots, she had never used such techniques against him. As for Lumina… she was too strong to practice with.

“Even if you were right, and I was weak, untrained—it wouldn’t matter. I saw Allezin’s fight with the drayavin tier three that invaded Shevenar. He had her running for her life and his guards eliminated her subordinates. He can keep us safe until we reach Eldrassin.”

“The queen is dead!” someone else interjected, a half elf woman with beady brown eyes and a square jaw. Though it didn’t even make sense in context, the crowd suddenly began to echo the words, giving voice to their sorrow. They repeated them over and over, the words sometimes spoken together in one clear voice, and other times in out of sync cacophony.

Isen licked his lips. This wasn’t going the way he wanted.

Soon Talis joined him. “What happened?” he asked under his breath.

Isen’s expression was lost. “I just told them that Allezin could keep them safe.”

The warrior sighed. “It’s fine, then. This is just their way of grieving.”

“It’s not just about the queen,” Isen stated.

Talis gave him a sad smile. “I know.”

***

When they stopped for the night, Allezin called Isen over; upon request, Talis was allowed to join as well. Allezin had formed a small tent out of fabric taken from the smaller village; it smelled like smoke. Lumina Eldrassin sat on a cushion on the ground. Druinala stood beside her with the tongue of flame on her shoulder.

“The queen wants to hear what you saw from your own lips,” Allezin explained.

Isen repeated the explanation and the queen’s mien darkened. “It blended into the shadows and disappeared when attacked?”

Isen nodded.

She turned to Allezin. “I am still not convinced.”

Isen shifted his weight, still awkwardly carrying his pack, quiver, and bow. “What were you hoping to hear?”

The queen crossed her arms. “It’s not that your testimony was lacking—I just find Allezin’s suspicions unlikely.”

“And what does he suspect?” Isen asked. “Or rather, who?”

“None of you are Eldrassin, so I doubt the name will mean anything to you. Allezin suspects that Welco the Haunt is involved.”

Druinala and Talis didn’t react; Isen took that as acknowledgement that they didn’t recognize the name.

“Welco is a mage with a primary aspect of shadow. The insight that took him to the third step was Shadow Clones, an A-tier spell, but the insight was flawed. Instead of making clones, he creates little more than amorphous puppets. A catastrophe of an advancement.” She sighed. “He never would have been able to use the spell to help slaughter a town at a distance.”

“Unless he mastered a deviant version,” Allezin said.

Lumina scoffed. “He’s had three hundred years to figure that out and he never did.”

“You never helped him?” Allezin asked.

“His aspect is the opposite of mine in nearly every way,” she replied. “I looked at his mess soon after he’d advanced and didn’t see any way to correct the mistake.”

“What would Welco do if someone came to him who could help him develop a deviant spell pathway?”

“He’d do nearly anything they asked, if they really could help.”

Allezin just gave her a knowing expression. “And who could help a mage like Welco?”

“Only someone at the peak of tier three, or higher.”

“Lumina…” Allezin murmured. “Gods, who did you offend?”

Her expression was cold. “I didn’t do anything.”

Allezin didn’t look like he believed her.

“Welco is one of my tier threes. He is established in the city, with his own clan. For him to betray Eldrassin and attack a town, and one so close to the capital—it is improbable.”

But Isen had the sudden, biting intuition that she was hiding her true thoughts. Her reactions to everything just didn’t match up with what Isen would expect. She had carefully skirted around the entire issue of Welco potentially working with Dray, instead focusing on the obvious, like how attacking elven settlements was unlikely. Anyone could have drawn such a conclusion.

He didn’t fault her for not telling them everything. Lumina had, until very recently, been a peerless tier four. She must have countless secrets. The problem was that she wasn’t telling them things that were relevant to the issue at hand.

He didn’t know what Druinala thought of her current predicament, practically chained to the queen as the sole fire affinity mage among the refugees. Had she yet been tempted to let the flame die? If he were the queen, he would have made assurances against that.

Why have I stuck around? Isen asked himself. The answer wasn’t as straightforward as he’d told the elf firebrand.

His primary objective was still to find Ros. To do that, he needed resources. Support. Guidance. He held no naïve illusions—Lumina Eldrassin and Allezin had promised him none of those things. Honestly, they hadn’t promised him anything. He was just there, helping.

Lumina must have her own suspicions regarding the mental connection that bridged their minds, but Isen wasn’t tied to the queen’s continued existence like Druinala was as the mage sustaining her divine flame. If Isen left, he didn’t think his presence would be missed.

He had to wonder if it was worth his time and effort to help the queen when so much was shrouded in uncertainty. Assuming the queen’s enemies were consolidating power in her absence, returning to Eldrassin might be equivalent to entering a lion’s den.

Besides, Ros seemed to think that simply cultivating would be enough for Isen to eventually sense the weak blood bond they’d forged before entering the Compass of Legacy. Resources, support, and guidance would accelerate his progress, but all he really needed was time.

He knew all of this… and yet. The niggling of opportunity encouraged him to stay the course. That, and the sense that he was actually helping. While the elves could seem ungrateful, he couldn’t forget how he’d felt leading the merchant caravan through Shevenar, or rescuing the elves earlier in the afternoon. He still felt uncomfortable with people relying on him for his mysterious sixth sense, but the refugees needed him for the protection he could provide as a tier two, so it felt different. Perhaps, more deserved?

Isen’s thoughts were ambivalent as Allezin called the discussion to a close. The black-metal warrior disappeared into the gloom, leaving the makeshift tent to the young queen and Druinala.

Isen and Talis went to wash.