Page 34 of Soul Forge

“We can’t sit here in the rain,” he insisted. She still didn’t move. Her brain didn’t seem to know where her legs were anymore. “…I’m hurting, Princess.”

The plea in his voice struck a spark inside the void of her mind. She stood mechanically, making sure both packs were still secure on her back. Wordlessly, she followed him through the boggy mud, shoulders hunched against the downpour when the bubble of magic faded. Reiner took Atlas’ reins in her hand and led him beside them, head bowed against the storm.

Sypher limped with every step, wings hanging almost low enough to trail on the ground behind him. Dark bruises were starting to spread across his face beneath the hood, his right eye socket turning a deep shade of purple. When he stumbled over a rock hiding in the scrubby grass, she forced herself to duck under his arm and take some of the weight. He didn’t push her away.

Elda’s bones creaked, her muscles aching with fresh bruises, but Sypher had saved her from broken bones by taking them himself. His ankle was obviously hurt, both wings bent and bleeding, and she was willing to bet several of his ribs were splintered. But he walked on without a sound. The only sign of his discomfort beyond the limp was that he accepted her help without griping.

“Why don’t you make your wings disappear?” Elda asked quietly, dancing around the question she really wantedanswered. Reiner watched them in stony silence, her eyes always glued to the Soul Forge.

“They’d still be broken when I need them again.”

“You can’t just make new ones with your shadows?”

“I don’t make them with magic. They’re part of me.”

Silence settled again, broken only by the sounds of their boots and Atlas’ hooves slopping through the mud. The land around them was wide and open, a bare expanse of hills covered in long, swaying grass and dotted with the odd small bush. The ground was saturated, Elda’s shoes sinking with each step. In the distance, lights shone weakly through the murk.

The unkempt grass became a well-tended field, separated from the wilds by a low wall. Elda helped Sypher through the wooden gate, holding it open for Reiner and her mount before picking her way carefully between the channels carved in neat rows in the fresh dirt. Water ran down them in small streams, splashing over her boots. Canvas sheets covered the ground between the channels, protecting crops from the storm. Crop fields meant a village was close.

The rest of the walk to the nearby village was quiet, save for the rain. It was night by the time they reached the inn, and they were all soaked to the bone. Reiner led Atlas to the attached stable, hanging up his saddle and reins before rejoining them. Sypher held the door open for them despite his wounds, not meeting Elda’s eyes when he let her get out of the storm first.

They were heading to Saeryn so she could learn how to kill him, she realised. Why else would she need another wielder’s help? Sypher could teach her everything she needed to know about fighting monsters, but when the monster washim, how could he be trusted to show her what it took to put him down? No, that would be the other wielder’s job. She was certain of it. The thought made her nauseous.

“Soul Forge! I thought that was you,” the bartender greeted cheerfully, his loud welcome shattering through her thoughts. He stuck out a hand that Sypher shook without smiling. He was a half-orc with olive skin and a friendly grin, dark hair curling over his forehead and falling into bright green eyes. Small tuskspeeked out above his lower lip, and a vivid scar bisected his face, stretching across the bridge of his nose to reach his right ear.

“Don’t stare,” Sypher warned softly.

Elda had heard of the dangerous northern citadel the orcs called home. It sat beyond the mountains of Cenet, shrouded in snow and cut off from the rest of the continent. By all accounts, orcs were a hostile race that hated outsiders, but his smile was so bright it practically sparkled.

“Edward,” Sypher greeted. His eyes passed to Reiner, already seated at the bar and pouring herself an ale without waiting for the bartender. She stared right back, her posture rigid. Elda started to wonder if Reiner somehow knew the truth about him. She hadn’t seen the demon, but she must have known something was wrong when she found Elda stunned and on the ground.

“What’s wrong with you?” the Soul Forge grunted.

“You took the princess of Eden into a pack of wraiths anddroppedher,” Reiner ground out.

Edward cast a glance at the captain’s clenched fists, and his dark brows crept towards his hairline. Elda shifted her weight awkwardly, waiting for Sypher to snap back at her.

“Not on purpose,” he sighed. He slid carefully onto an empty stool, wincing when the weight left his injured ankle. “I did find the Behemoth I’ve been looking for.”

“ABehemoth,” Reiner echoed. “You took the princess of Eden into a pack of wraiths led by aBehemothand dropped her.” Violet light flashed in her eyes.

Elda dared to lay a hand on her arm and shake her head. The captain’s brow furrowed, dark eyes studying her face. Her lips pressed into a thin line, like she was forcing them to contain her entire verbal arsenal. But she heeded Elda’s plea, remaining silent.

“I’m assuming it’s dead since you’re standing here?” the bartender asked, walking round the bar to poke at the logs in thelarge fireplace. The crackle of the fire was comforting after the freezing rain, and Elda had to fight the urge to inch towards it and warm her hands.

“It is, along with the flocks harassing the village. It was hiding in the storms.” Sypher gestured for Elda to sit beside him. Her eyebrows crept upwards, but she obliged. Reiner responded by dragging her stool several inches closer, keeping herself within arms’ reach of her charge.

“Devilish bastards, those demons,” the bartender nodded, returning to his place behind the wooden counter to approach one of the large kegs along the back wall. “Thank you for helping us once again, Saviour.” He filled a pitcher while he spoke.

Reiner grumbled something under her breath and returned to her stool, draining the contents of her cup and letting the half-orc fill it again immediately.

“I told you to quit the titles,” Sypher grumbled.

Edward grinned and filled a second tankard, setting it down in front of the winged hero. “On the house,Sypher.” He went back to polishing his row of goblets, studying Elda while the Soul Forge took a drink. “As much of an honour as it is to have the princess of Eden sitting in my inn, old friend,whyis she here?”

“We’re on a wild goose chase,” Reiner muttered, but the violence had left her eyes, and her fists were no longer clenched. A flutter of relief settled in Elda’s stomach when it became clear the captain wasn’t about to punch anyone.

“She’s the new wielder,” Sypher answered with a shrug.

---