Chapter Sixty-Two: The Girl with the Sight.

  As it turned out, the final guest that would grace their presence after their encounter with the mercenary and holy mage was nothing Selriph could have expected.

  Selriph had built up expectations for something dramatic, a final gauntlet to end the events of the previous night. Fate had seen fit to deliver similar challenges before, after all.

  He’d expected a bear, maybe a pack of Crimson Foxes, or even a werewolf, considering Raclune’s present phase.

  But no, all those expectations fell flat: it was a boar. Thick-set, muddy, and entirely unthreatening. It snuffled through the underbrush with a sort of clumsy curiosity, decidedly low on the food chain compared to the dire wolf that accompanied Selriph.

  Emmett addressed the issue of the boar’s mishap by consuming around half of the animal for his supper. Following the animal’s dismemberment, the remaining pieces were given to the animal’s human companion, or more precisely, to two humans.

  By the time the soft golden canvas filled over the clearing from the east, a modest portion remained, wrapped next to the smouldering coals, wrapped in linen cloth.

  As the cold morning rush of air expedited the shedding of the deep orange leaves, that same breeze carried the wisp of arcane energy. As they were carried, they resembled misty blue trails, which intertwined with the foggy air, allowing the soft golden rays from above to filter gently through.

  The source? Selriph’s arcane siphoning. Selriph had been doing this intermittently from nightfall to dawn. This wasn’t by choice, charity, or attachment; Selriph found himself woken and thereby forced to tend to her. The girl’s body shimmered as the arcane energies built, tensing the resting girl lying on his bedroll, which riled him from sleep—he did not want her to wake up screaming in the middle of the moonlit forest.

  Thankfully, the girl’s reserves seemed to be refilling at a rate that resembled normalcy—somewhat surprising given her abnormal and unique abilities. This gave Selriph plenty of minutes to acquaint himself with a dreamless rest before the next inevitable arcane buildup required his attention.

  Selriph looked upon the girl’s form, wrapped one of the spare cloaks from the quartet he slaughtered last night—their bodies now buried under a layer of dirt in the clearing that they perished in.

  Hopefully she stirs soon…

  Then looked down at the missive, the letter addressed from the magister to the Theurgist.

  From what I can gather, she has to be from Solvelis—all we have to do is to escort her within eyeshot and have the guards take her in.

  Selriph’s fists clenched as if seeking their assurance.

  Yes, keep it simple as that. There is no reason to go into the city with her… the guards might recognise her, and undue attention will be drawn to me. Besides, I am not her caretaker.

  Once his eyes returned to the sleeping girl, he found Emmett had slowly moved to her, his nose softly touching her cheek, either out of curiosity or trying to rouse her.

  “Emmett…! No, leave her be; we are not tarrying by any measure—”

  “Uuh,”

  The young girl’s eyelids fluttered open, her gaze drifting slowly across the room, like doors that had not been opened in ages. The ocean-blue eyes scanned the surroundings, their gaze heavy, a growing sense of confusion flickering across her face, then fear.

  That was not unexpected; she realised what was standing before her: a fully grown dire wolf.

  With a gasp of horror, she recoiled backwards, fighting against the cloak that had been placed upon her, which had essentially become a restraint. As she panicked and moved away from the predatory sight, her body emitted a faint glow.

  “Aah! No, no, get away, please…!”

  Oh, that’s not good….

  Selriph’s voice came, firm but calming. “Calm down, Emmett here won’t eat you.” As he rose to his feet, pacing over to the girl.

  Her eyes darted to Selriph, his eyes meeting hers, a flicker of recognition brimming on her face.

  Her words seemed to fade away as she looked back at the dire wolf, which had just sat down, positioning its legs beneath itself. A sign of peace—assuming Emmett could comprehend such a thing.

  Then back to the runaway youth.

  “You… I’ve seen you before…” Her head tilted in curiosity.

  What…? That isn’t surprising. By the time I unchained her, my disguise had already eroded… why state the obvious…?

  Selriph’s brows furrowed, taken aback by the strange statement. “I … you mean last night? Yes, I am the one who… assisted you.” His voice stiffened with High Eldeitian formality.

  “No… I mean,” she muttered as her gaze drifted downward. A faint blush coloured her face, likely due to the embarrassment at what was probably a bizarre first choice of words when speaking to the person she had just met.

  “It is okay; the mercenaries have been dealt with.” Selriph’s filled with passing venom as his briefly flicked eastwards—to the clearing where the encounter had taken place the night before.

  “I… thank you.” Her eyes were full of gratitude as she looked at Selriph.

  “It’s fine; they were scum. Any half-decent folk with the means at their disposal would have helped." Selriph’s gaze traced away from the girl, his words reflecting only half the truth—he’d nearly decided against it.

  After all, now he was once again distracted.

  “No. Not just for that, I mean what you did after,” as she looked down at her hands, glowing faintly with arcane energy.

  The arcane siphoning? She saw that…?

  “That… It’s nothing really, best that you do not mention it to anyone.” Selriph bent down on his knees, his voice firm with warning.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  The young girl shook her head—not in direct disagreement. “But…no one has been able to do what you did. “

  “What I … Did?” Selriph’s head tilted as he looked at Emmett, who could only answer with a deadpan stare—he had no idea either.

  The girl’s next words came mixed with recollection and a growing tinge of high Eldeitian, likely in response to Selriph’s own accent. “Mother got me the best healers and clerics in Agurdia. Herbs, ointments, ritual — nothing worked to quiet the voices, the visions.”

  “The visions…? You mean Sadria’s eyes? The ability to peer into the currents of the past and the future?" Selriph transitioned from his squatted posture to a seated one, and at that point, he became engrossed in the conversation, or, more to the point, the freely offered information.

  A look of confusion crossed her face as her brows furrowed. “Sadria’s eyes…? Mother called it the sight. Is that the same thing?

  Selriph’s mind flashed to the myriad of worn parchment and tomes in the library of Caer Eldralis. The sight, likely a colloquial label for a nascent seer’s power, was highly sought after for the Eldeitian apparatus for a reason that needed no elaboration.

  “Yes, if you don’t mind me asking…” Selriph paused, wondering if he had the words he was about to articulate

  “Apologies. Before that, may I ask for your name? I am Sel.” Selriph’s statement came forced through any hesitation he might have had at producing the truncated version of his true name.

  “I am referred to as Leian … I cannot offer any coin… they took everything from me when I was abducted.” Her hands tightened around the coat, coiling in anticipation of the question that was to come.

  Selriph raised his hands as a gesture of peace. “That wasn’t what I intended to ask” Selriph paused, the slight contradiction pricking him: he had intended to ask about her noble background, but not for monetary gain anyhow.

  The girl stared, her hands relaxing around the fur cloak.

  “If you hold this ability, this sight as you call it. Why not have the church’s blessing and guidance teach you how to harness your gift? It would have sufficed more than ointments, herbs, and the trickle of clerics that graced your estate.” Selriph’s question came tinged in a careful veil of politeness, given the prying nature of his query and the fact that he had only known her for less than twelve hours.

  The answer unexpectedly came firm, the girl’s voice twisted, as if hearing an incredulous notion. “No! Anything but that! Her body flared briefly with golden light.

  “Apologies…! I did not mean to suggest anything. I just want to understand: Why…?”

  “Mother said they should never know. They will take me away from her….”

  Selriph was taken aback at the venom and wariness of her voice—something that he’d only heard from himself.

  The missive’s words then flickered in his mind, and understanding flooded him, the situation revealing itself like light piercing the cathedral’s stained glass, illuminating the gospel on the altar.

  Lady Eilsweth has been difficult … by any means necessary.

  The loose collection of information formed a cohesive constellation—something that became comprehensible to Selriph.

  The church had employed underhanded means—not unlike how they procured the services of bounty hunters to track Selriph down in the Shera woods—to procure Leian, this girl with the sight, to force her to serve the empire and the church.

  Selriph’s eyes widened with understanding, as he was about to bellow out another question, only to be interrupted by the widening eyes of the girl, her head turning as if tracking something behind him.

  Selriph turned, half expecting some otherworldly spectre that he’d somehow fail to detect meeting him.

  But no, what met him was mundane but no less surprising.

  Dragging the cooked boar meat, the dire wolf passed Selriph and, with a low growl, left the wrapped parcel of meat in front of Leian. Emmett sat down, a silent invitation for the girl to eat the food placed before her.

  The sound of a low growl that came from the girl’s stomach was as good as any spoken agreement to the dire wolf’s kind offer.

  The girl bit into the cooked piece of boar, her face grimacing slightly—it was unseasoned and dry from being left out all night. At least it offered sustenance, a greater need than the culinary indulgence she had been accustomed to.

  “Apologies, it is the best I could provide under these circumstances….” Selriph’s voice was tinged with embarrassment and disappointment at the girl’s less-than-positive reception of the boar meat.

  As she ate another bite of the boar meat, Leian looked down, embarrassed, and uttered, “Please don’t apologise… You have already done so much for me…”

  Selriph froze, staring blankly into the forest. The girl’s words somehow struck a truth: he had indeed done so much for her. Given his fugitive status, it was best if he had left.

  Selriph knew deep in his heart that despite the toll his journey had taken on him, it hadn’t eroded his humanity, his decency, completely. Perhaps it was because the girl was a reminder of Fionil Daryth, though she would be two years younger than the girl’s current age. Or maybe it is because he just couldn’t help but assist a fellow magically endowed individual in the clutches of the church.

  Either way, Selriph’s fist balled up, his resolve firming: he would not provide any further assistance beyond this: the girl had a meal, Solvelis was a day’s stroll away on foot. At most, he would accompany her to the outskirts, and she could go into the city by herself—reuniting with this ‘Lady Eilsweth,’ whoever she was.

  “Excuse me…? Sir…? Sel…?” her voice cut through the fog of contemplation that had fallen on Selriph’s consciousness.

  Selriph’s eyes shot up, the girl’s hands wrapped around the linen cloth that once held her portion—now consumed.

  Selriph shook his head as if dusting off the cobwebs in his mind. “Apologies… I tend to drift off and get distracted. Were you asking something…?”

  “It’s nothing… I just wondered…” Her eyes drifted up and down Selriph’s figure, as if searching for something.

  “Just ask; it cannot possibly sour my mood in any way—I have seen and heard far worse.” Selriph grimaced as his mind briefly flashed with the examples that corresponded to the cryptic references he mentioned: the venomous postlude to the fiasco at Oagat’s vault and the outburst at the Shera woods lodge that guilt-tripped him into another debacle.

  “I… why did you turn on your fellow servants…?” Her voice was soft and airy, and her words barely materialised.

  Selriph barely restrained himself from flashing a death stare at her at her words.

  How does she know about my desertion?! Did she somehow glance at it through her sight just like Ereknul did….?!

  Selriph’s voice maintained a bare veneer of polite calmness as he dug his fingers into the hem of his shirt—he did not want to convey distress. “I… I don’t understand your question. Could you … be more specific?”

  “I… I know those mercenaries deserved death. They were lowlifes who treated me like trash. But the robed one with them … wasn’t he a fellow servant of the light?”

  Selriph tilted his body back, a silent invitation for further elaboration.

  “Why kill a fellow faithful just to save me? Isn’t that … bad for you…? Her query was accompanied by her fiddling fingers and lowered gaze.

  Ah…

  Selriph nearly wanted to commend himself for not losing his temper; he could have easily misconstrued the girl’s first comment if he had.

  Best to assess her level of understanding before divulging too much—there is no reason to after all.

  “If you would allow me to ask you something in return, did you see the mark on that servant—the Theurgist’s face?”

  Leian gazed upward, a puzzled expression on her face. “Yes … I saw it. He was the one who chained me up…” Her voice came low with bitterness.

  Selriph’s voice came soft, a mix of apology and comfort. “I am sorry; I didn’t mean to elicit that kind of recollection. Just tell me, do you understand what that crest means?”

  “Yes … mother told me everything about it. They practise the holy arts, just like you,” as she pointed to Selriph.

  “And…?” Selriph made a sweeping gesture over himself, like an artist showing off their creation.

  Selriph flinched—he was practically confessing his fugitive status to her, a disclosure of information that he now couldn’t take back.

  Selriph steeled himself—she would not react favourably to this revelation.

  “You…so you are crestless…!” Her voice did not come with shock, apprehension, hostility, or fear.

  It came with pity.

  “They…. They burn people like you at the stake…!” Her eyes widened, the sunlight reflecting in her irises as if conveying the sight she saw in her mind: heretical mages burnt at the stake.

  Selriph paused, an unspoken understanding transmitting to him through her words.

  “You … did your mother make you see that spectacle? Why…?! Selriph’s tone was now a combination of disgust and confusion.

  “Be…because…” she hesitated, as if contemplating whether to divulge what she was about to say, held just beyond the boundaries of her lips.

  “Because… that’s what would happen to me if the church found me,” her arms wrapped around herself in a protective embrace, glowing faintly with golden arcane energy.

  that unverving, right...?