Trial by Flame

Chapter 2

"Well, that was unnecessary."

Eithien muttered a curse as he pulled the arrow from his flesh, skin sealing near-instantly below. Quinn heard a shuffle in the brush, then felt the light adjust again, highlighting the edges of her vision even when she covered the sight with a hand. Eithien teleported suddenly, and another arrow flew through the absent space. She instinctively darted for cover.

A battle, already?

Quinn leaped over a fallen log, glancing over her shoulder. Trelisti was already gone, and Tellik, Mirtis, and Elyria were all ducking behind the rock. She started to reach for her bow, pausing when her fingers dragged over a deep, splintered groove.

Memories burned at the touch. A flash of false white hair, the crack of a scythe in the wood. Darkness enveloping her. Swallowing her whole.

She tore her hand away and slammed her eyes shut. But the sight of nothing was worse, even closer to Hjerti's realm. So she had to open them again, to focus on her breathing and the battle.

She was here now, in Greyhaven. She knew the land. She knew how to fight. Hjerti couldn't reach her here, not yet. So why was she so damn shaken?

A yelp sounded where the arrow had been fired. A sharp, familiar yelp.

"Sysevenie?" Quinn asked suddenly, shooting up from her cover. Nearby, Trelisti's shape melted out of the shade of a tree, forehead creased in confusion.

Eithien had Sysevenie suspended by one arm, holding her bare wrist. Her weapon, a small, low-weight hunting bow, lay out of reach on the ground, arrows scattering the brush around it.

"Huh. You're really light," he observed, swinging her around a bit for effect. She jolted, held like a kitten grabbed by the scruff. Eithien looked up at Quinn. "You guys know her?"

"She's another guild member," Trelisti answered quickly, squinting slightly. He glanced down at her, then the bow. "What're you doing out here with that? Your aim's kind of shi--"

"That's what you're worried about right now?" she interrupted, wincing. She tried prying Eithien's fingers off with her other hand unsuccessfully. "What in Lydiia's name is wrong with you people?"

"Put her down, Eithien. She's a friend," Quinn said, jogging over. Behind, Elyria and Mirts emerged from the rock in concern, while Tellik stayed hidden. Clariya hadn't moved since they teleported here, instead watching curiously.

"You sure about that?" he asked, giving a dubious nod to the arrows. He dropped her a little, enough that her feet could reach the ground, but didn't release her wrist even as she tugged ferally. "I'd rather not test my chances with cyrine magic. I don't have much mana left."

"Oh no. The shortie's gonna kill us all," Trelisti said flatly. "What a shame we don't have another asazai, a trained assassin, a god's vessel, a half-demon, and a literal angel to defend us."

Tellik's head popped out of the rock. "Hey! What about me?"

Trelisti pretended not to hear him.

"That's...fair, I guess," Eithien said, releasing his hold. Sysevenie leaped back with startling speed, drawing a knife from a sheath on her belt.

"What's with you guys?" she shrieked, holding the blade in front of her defensively. "Are

you under some sort of spell? You!" She angled the knife at Eithien. "What did you do to them?"

Eithien barely spared her a look, unamused. "If I could influence the mind, you wouldn't be speaking right now."

"Er," Quinn covered. "He's not controlling us, I promise. It's just been a really complicated journey, and there's some problems we need his help--"

Before she could finish her sentence, Sysevenie stomped a heel into the ground. Chains of light flung out of the ground, looping around Eithien's ankles and wrists. They sizzled where they touched his skin.

"Release her, they said," he murmured, unamused. "It'll be fine, they said."

Sysevenie's expression twisted, stuck somewhere between surprise and disgust. Quinn didn't think she knew that asazai rarely felt pain, so the light chains were more of an inconvenience than anything.

"Um, excuse me," Elyria said, walking quickly towards the center of them. She was tailed by Mirtis. "I don't know if you remember us. I'm Elyria, and this is Mirtis, the one who destroyed one of the bo-reths. You're the one who restrained the other, right?"

"Yes." Sysevenie's eyes flittered in recognition, and she lowered the knife slowly. "And I remember."

"Oh, I'm glad!" Elyria replied quickly. She smiled warmly, the kind of smile that was so gentle and compassionate it felt wrong not to trust. "I know there's a lot going on, and this situation probably seems threatening. But I promise, if you just give us a moment to explain, just to talk—no weapons or magic—it'll all be cleared up."

"But how can I be sure that you're—hey! What are you—"

Sysevenie wasn't the only to notice that Clariya was no longer lingering by the rock, instead appearing right beside Eithien. Quinn swore she could see a hint of mischief beneath her expression as she flicked the chains of light.

They dissolved into sparks.

Sysevenie shrieked, jumping back defensively and raising her knife again. Her eyes darted across the scene, hopping from one person to the next before settling on Clariya.

"You," she said, breathless. It was obvious to see her processing, the question converging with awe. "Are you a...?"

"An angel," Clariya answered, correcting. "This group is on a mission to stop Hjerti's darkness from consuming Anethia. If there's any questions about that, I implore you to bring them to me."

Quinn couldn't quite read her voice at the end—it almost sounded sarcastic, but held an aggressive, authoritative energy. That was what made Clariya hard to read: how she could hold more than one expression at once, how her tone didn't always match her face. Quinn knew Eithien could read her easily, but for her, it was a guessing game at best.

Still, whatever she was going for seemed to work. Sysevenie dropped the dagger and fell into a bow.

"My apologies, tü kuloan. I didn't recognize you," she said quickly.

"No need for formalities. I don't expect you to see through this form," she replied, softer now. "You can call me Clariya."

"That's—" Sysevenie started, then paused. Her eyes traced over the runes on Clariya's arms, pupils constricted by Clariya's natural glow. "That's much too casual for someone of my rank. I must use some title, at the least."

"Then Miss is fine. Don't spend too much energy on it." There was a sliver of something dim, some sort of reflected sadness. "And you're Sysevenie, yes?"

She nodded. "A trainee of the Yellow Mist tribe. It's an honor."

This time, it was easy to see the discomfort on Clariya's face. But Quinn didn't give it much mind. She didn't know, nor care to know, what light-worshiping customs they were lost in, and everybody but Elyria seemed to feel the same way. Even Tellik was starting to drift into the woods.

"Do you mind talking on the way?" Trelisti asked the moment Clariya stalled. The fact that it was a question at all was a show of respect to Sysevenie, a few tiny crumbs of decency for someone he'd once fought beside. "We're heading back to Everhold."

Sysevenie looked at Clariya as though she was seeking approval, to which Clariya nodded. Whatever hierarchy she'd established was working a little too well.

"Luckily, we've got a long walk ahead," she said, retrieving her bow and arrows from the ground. "Do you mind starting from the beginning?"