She fisted her hands at her side.“I don’t see through you. I just see you.”Elyria groaned inwardly as she recalled what she said. She didn’t even know where that had come from. Thraigg’s interruption could not possibly have been more timely. On the infinitesimal chance they did end up getting out of the Crucible alive, she owed the dwarf the largest mug of cider The Sweltering Pig offered.
Elyria caught Kit’s eye as she approached the other champions around the fire, immediately scowling at the haughty look on her friend’s face. Kit saw too much. Saw everything. And that knowledge only caused that bud of guilt in Elyria’s chest to grow.
A bud that might very well bloom into a fully grown plant of misery any second if she didn’t stop looking at Gael. The flamecaller was still hugging her knees to her chest, eyes pinned on the dancing flames in front of her. Her undamaged wing fluttered listlessly behind her while what remained of the other was bandaged against her back.
The sight of her twisted Elyria’s insides. She knew she wasn’t exactly responsible for her losing her wing, but it was partly her fault that Gael was like this. There was barely any sign of that fiery fae she’d met in Castle Lumin. Between losing Paelin in the second trial and now her wing, Elyria feared for whatever thoughts were brimming under that head of wine-red hair.
“Can’t imagine this damned maze will stay idle forever.” Thraigg’s gruff voice carried from where he and Cedric stood, and something in Elyria’s gut clenched. Had the knight recovered enough to move on yet?
With a quizzical look, she sought out Zephyr on the other side of the fire. The sylvan responded as if reading the question in Elyria’s eyes, nodding gently. “Once he woke up, the rest of his injuries began healing remarkably well. More quickly than I would have thought. He should be more than ready to move on. And I think we all should—soon.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” said Cyren, his voice lacking its usual teasing lilt as his wary eyes went to Gael.
As did Kit’s. “Is she going to be able to...” she started to ask, putting voice to the question Elyria was sure they were all wondering. Cedric’s injuries healing was one thing, but whatever was plaguing Gael seemed to be another entirely. Was she going to be able to pullherself together? To go on?
Cyren’s brow furrowed. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said quietly. “But we all know we can’t stay here.”
Kit nodded. Zephyr made an eager squeak of agreement. Nox didn’t say anything at all, only continued surveying the group with the faintest hint of a smile on their lips, as if enjoying watching the way things were unfolding.
Elyria couldn’t figure the nocterrian out. Didn’t understand what they were doing here in the first place, let alone why they had decided to work with the rest of them so seamlessly. Just as Kit had warned, Elyria had felt their crimson eyes boring into her back on more than one occasion. And she still hadn’t had a chance to ask them what they were doing in that Coralithian jail cell to begin with.
Four hells, had that really only been barely more than a week ago? It felt likeyearshad passed since then.
“Come on, let’s get going,” Elyria said, more to herself than anyone else. The command wasn’t met with any resistance. The others began gathering their scant belongings—weapons, bits of food, the various vials and tins Zephyr had used on Cedric.
The sylvan also helped Cedric back into his armor, though one look at the mangled remnants of his cuirass—the metal of his chestplate scorched and blackened around the hole where Belien’s blood magic had struck—and the knight deemed it unsalvageable. Elyria hated the way her chest tightened seeing the physical reminder—proof of just how deadly the blow had been.
Gael remained motionless by the fire until Cyren knelt beside her and placed his palm on her shoulder. Only then did she turn and acknowledge him, getting to her feet and extinguishing the fire with the wave of a hand. All while not saying a single word.
As a group, they filed out of the cavern, following the singular tunnel in the only direction it went, its luminescent walls lighting their way. Logically, Elyria recognized that they must have been going back the way they came—it was the only path—but nothing about the tunnel felt familiar. She grimaced thinking about how much the labyrinth must have shifted and changed while they warred and rested in the cavern.
Elyria felt strangely bereft without the familiar weight of her staffon her back and found herself brushing the hilts of the twin daggers strapped to her legs on more than one occasion. As if she needed the reassurance that she wasn’t unarmed.
A silly thought, she recognized, as perhaps the most powerful magic wielder present. Wildshaper and nightwielder, both. She wondered how many others like her there were in all of Arcanis. It wasn’t a pompous, ego-driven question. Just one born of curiosity. She’d spent so long burying half of herself. Now that she had finally given that half the freedom of acknowledgment—started to embrace it, even—she suddenly wanted to know more about it. Wanted to know everything.
They’d only been walking for a few minutes when Elyria felt that unfortunately familiar rumble. The grinding sound of shifting stone followed, and then the walls began to shake. Before their eyes, solid stone shifted until the path ahead was no longer a path at all, but a fork in the road. Two twin tunnels unrolled before them, equally dark, equally bare. There was nothing to differentiate them, aside from the fact that one lay to the left and the other to the right.
“Great. Now what?” Kit rolled her shoulders back as she glanced down each tunnel.
“Anyone have a particularly gifted sense of direction?” Elyria asked.
“Zephyr had a keen nose for where to go when we were in the arena,” Cedric offered.
“We figured that out together.” Zephyr ducked her head, as if unsure of what to do with the compliment. “Besides, I can think of at least one person with the skills required here.”
She looked at Thraigg, who stepped forward with a grunt. He stroked his chin thoughtfully, the decorative beads in his beard jingling as he placed a hand on the wall. After a few moments, he said, “This way,” and pointed down the right-hand tunnel.
“How do you know?” Cyren asked, tucking Gael behind him as if he expected some fire-breathing monster to come charging out of the tunnel Thraigg chose.
“The dwarven people are blessed with stone sense,” Zephyr said, her light, high voice steady and matter-of-fact.
At the looks of puzzlement the sylvan received from multiple members of their party, she went on to add, “Really? Nobody knows?”
“We don’t much bother spreading it around,” Thraigg said with a shrug.
Zephyr sighed. “Well, would you like to educate the group, or shall I?”
Thraigg chortled heartily and gestured for her to continue.
