Trial by Flame

Chapter 40

Unexpectedly, Rowan approached him first.

He'd zoned out without realizing it, so caught up in waiting that he'd hardly noticed the crowd dissolve. It was warm enough to make him sluggish, even in the shade, the first indicator besides the sun that told him midday already passed.

"Ti'au?" she asked, holding out a hand as though he needed help getting up.

Trelisti waved it away and stood on his own. "You could tell?"

"It's the look in your eyes," they replied, nodding and motioning for him to follow. She had a distinct voice, recognizable yet unfamiliar—it wasn't very deep, but still rich and heavy, with the sort of burning confidence and contained recklessness that was almost inviting. In a way, their first impression was like a mixture of Maenas and Quinn; a noble, respectable aura hiding a stroke or two of crazy. But he might've been reading too into her. "Let's go somewhere quieter."

A few of her weapons jangled as she turned, golden sunlight shimmering over each reflective hilt. Throwing knives, it looked like, were their main choice, but they had katars and sharpened knuckles only partially-concealed within their outfit. Weapons were more common here than in Ethforge, and rightfully so. If he had to guess, proximity to the pulse industry made them on edge, but it was a smarter practice anywhere.

She led him into a building and up a stairway, then out the window and onto a stilted path until they reached what he could only call an island. It was a platform isolated a ways off from the building, maybe a watch tower at some point, but now left alone.

"I'd say you're dangerously trusting," they said as he stepped onto the faded wood. "But your hand hasn't strayed from your dagger since we met."

Trelisti released his hand from the hilt, barely realizing his fingers were touching it. "Force of habit," he apologized.

"No worries. I'd be skeptical if it wasn't the case."

Between words, she looked over him, scanning for something he wasn't quite sure of but didn't want to ask. The break was so long he almost wondered if she would continue, until...

"You're not quite the way they described you," they decided. "Apathetic, a little, and certainly independent, but not as much of a character as I was told. Not as soulless."

"I...what?" Trelisti asked. He had no idea what they meant, nor how to reply, or where she was coming from. "Did Lias tell you that?"

"Heavens, no. He would never," she laughed. "I've got eyes and ears all over, even beyond this continent. I knew of your arrival well before you became Ti'au, Anduvel."

He flinched at the name, resisting the urge to reach for his blade. Whether he planned to use it or not, it was a comfort above all else. He had question on top of question already, and a primal defense trickling in with adrenaline. Few people knew his last name.

"Don't worry. I'm not here to harass you, though I'll admit a part of me is curious as to why you've grown softer here. Or is it just an act?"

If they expected an answer, they didn't give him time to respond. Not that he would have anyway.

"I requested this meeting because your problems have spilled into mine. I'm not going to waste time and energy trying to convince others of the threat that Hjerti poses to us; it would cause unneeded fear and chaos. Especially when I've got a perfectly good resource at my disposal—someone who's already faced him. Someone who knows about the creatures that you call asazai."

It wasn't trickling anymore, but pouring, that warped sense of adrenaline. It wasn't the kind he hated, but the opposite. The kind of violence he invited, the trembling thrill he craved. The kind that made him forget the problems he left in the past, that overshadowed the aches in his muscles and mind, that forced him to look and live in the moment. He could keep it contained, but there was no denying the thrum of excitement within, the embers waking inside of his chest.

"Or maybe," Rowan whispered. "That part of you was just sleeping."

"What do you need me for?" Trelisti asked, ignoring them.

"Need is a strong word. You're not essential," she said defensively, another comment he chose to look past. "I've heard rumors of a man whose wounds don't affect him. Who doesn't die after an arrow pierces his chest or his skull is split. He's much further south than here, but they call him the Man of the Black Water, because he was supposedly born from a pool of it. Now, I hear they're trying to summon another one like him, this time in Rosvanii. I want you to investigate with me."

"Do you know when? Or where?"

"Tomorrow evening. I'm narrowing the location today, but we'll meet here before we head off." She said it with finality, the way Trelisti preferred it. No wasteful deliberations or dallying indecisively. "Until then, keep your ears and eyes sharp, got it?"

Trelisti didn't linger, giving a nod as he swiveled on his heel. He might've had questions, but it didn't seem like she'd offer answers tonight. The look in her eyes said tomorrow.

"Don't need to tell me twice."