Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 41: Captured

Hofal lit up his cigar, then moved toward the edge of the mist. "I should've kept trying to follow him here," the old shield said, a bit of regret in his tone. "Toren said something was off, and I sensed it too. But I couldn't keep up with him."

I followed after at a light jog, conserving what mana I had left. "He should've stayed with you. He had his orders," I replied, more than a bit annoyed at our newest member's reckless actions. That was my job. "I don't think that explosion was the distillery, though."

"It couldn't have been," Hofal replied as we exited the mist.

The sight that revealed itself to us made me freeze. There was a body lying in a pool of blood, still in death. From the distance I was at, I couldn't make out much of the corpse except it was clothed all in black.

Toren?! I thought with a spike of worry. Had we been too late?

But what I noticed next caused my anxiety to ratchet up another notch. No, the body wasn't Toren's. Those were the remains of the lightning striker.

Another man held Toren's unconscious body slung over his shoulder. It was covered in bruises and blood, and a vivid tattoo of chains wound up along Toren's left arm. It dangled limply, but a slight rise and fall of his chest told me he was still breathing.

Is that why he keeps it covered? A subconscious part of me wondered. To hide the tattoo?

I immediately summoned my ice daggers again, getting ready to rush this man. A few beasts made entirely of fire circled him like predators, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. "You!" I called. "Put the body down, and I might leave your face intact!"

The man slowly turned to face me, revealing a mop of sandy blonde hair and piercing gray eyes. A leisurely smile adorned his face, which made me feel extremely uneasy.

Hofal moved in beside me, but he didn't raise his weapons. Something was off about the movement. Under Hofal's mask, his eyes were wide. "Flint?!" he said, surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

The man cocked his head, looking Hofal up and down. "Ah, Hofal, was it? I remember you. I should've guessed you were with these fools."

The way he said the word fools caused me to shift. Hofal seemed to know the man: was he an enemy? He was holding Toren's body, though.

"The last time I saw you was in the Relictombs," Hofal said slowly, tightening his grip on his axe and shield. "What are you doing here?"

The catlike beasts of fire started to fan out after that question. Hofal finally settled into a combat stance, wary of their attack.

"Tell me, how's Karsien doing these days?" the man asked, ignoring Hofal's earlier question and stalking to the side. Toren was still limp on his shoulder.

"Put down the kid and I might tell you," Hofal replied. "For old ascending partner's sakes."

The man snickered. "He didn't tell you, did he? About what happened that day?"

I shifted nervously. I didn't know what Hofal and the man–Flint– were talking about, but Toren was my priority. I couldn't risk attacking while Flint held him, though. I'd have to make an opening somehow.

Hofal went stiff. "What do you mean, Flint?"

The man shook his head. "It doesn't matter. When you see that Rat again, tell him Dornar Joan sends his regards," he said, turning around with a smile. "Or maybe I'll tell him myself when we meet again."

Then a form blurred from the alleyway toward Flint. They leveraged a shortsword, swinging it at Flint's legs. The man danced backward, surprisingly graceful while carrying a body on one shoulder.