Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 86: The Limping Return

But on closer scrutiny, that didn't make sense. If so many ascenders–easily thousands–had vanished in the last few weeks, there would have been a public panic from the Ascender's Association. It would be something too big to cover up.

But if the bodies were taken–or maybe even recreated–from those who died in other zones of the Relictombs?

"Are you sure?" I asked, almost tripping as we carefully maneuvered around the prone bodies. I'd regained enough of my mana to maintain a weak, close-clinging sound-dampening shroud around the two of us. "I mean, it could simply be a look-alike."

"I killed the beast that ripped her arm off," he said in reply, silencing any further questions. "That's her."

I looked forward once more. At this rate, it would take several hours more to reach the base marked as the Aensgar Exiles' hideaway, which Darrin had told me he would retreat towards.

I could only hope the rest of our trek would be this simple.

—

Our speed picked up over the next few hours as I recovered my mana. Gradually, I began to use my magic as a splint for my wounded leg, using the sheathed Oath as a makeshift cane. As we progressed, we eventually ran into moving corpses once more. Evidently, the range of effect the commander undead had over the nearby corpses was limited. Once we exited that sphere, our caution ratcheted up a dozen notches.

But each movement still hurt. I was feeling phantom aches from my core, echoes of the hell I'd barely escaped with Sevren's help. As the hours dragged on, I realized with unnerving clarity that there was no familiar buildup of mana around my wounds that preluded my healing factor. I knew that my ability to heal slowed down significantly in the wake of using my Will, but this was something different. Instead of a drastic reduction in speed, there was simply nothing at all.

Eventually, Sevren and I started seeing traces of people's passing. Remaining steel and earthen constructs jutted out here and there. Signs of quick battles and spells digging furrows into the ground dotted our path.

I felt my spirits rise at these signs.

And finally, Sevren and I reached the outskirts of the Aensgar Exiles' base.

The Exiles had set themselves up in a similar position to the Twinfrost party: at the top of a building, with defenses instated all around.

I heard them before I ever saw them.

"--And you just let them stay!" I heard a familiar voice cry. "Now we've lost our best chance to escape! And with what happened to Shaela, who knows if we'll have to–"

"What did you expect me to do?!" Darrin's voice–surprisingly angry–cut the other off. "Force them to follow? We were going to be overwhelmed! Somebody had to watch our backs!"

"So that's all you have to say?" Dima replied. "You couldn't help it? It was out of your control?"

"That's not what I said, Dima!" Darrin cried. "What should I have done? Tell me! Why do I keep failing?"

There was a beat of silence.

Sevren chose that moment to knock on the door. I immediately felt half a dozen mana signatures ramp up in response.

I sent an uncertain look at the Denoir heir.

"I didn't want to listen to that anymore," he said with a sigh. "Better let them know we're alive, eh?"

The door opened the barest of inches, a pair of eyes staring out. They widened when they saw us. "It's Lord Denoir and Daen!" they called, shuffling back. "They're alive!"