Chapter Thirty-Nine point Seven: Tentative Concord.

  The crisp, cool air wafted from the immense flanks of the Greyspire Mountain range. Conifers, such as spruce, pine and fir, offered a familiar, woody redolence, mixed with citrus and resinous hints from the surrounding evergreen vegetation.

  The earthy scent underfoot made way for the scent of petrichor; the soft, damp tread blended into the gravelly, rocky shuffle of the unrhythmic ensemble of foot, paws and hooves.

  These sounds would otherwise indicate peace, perhaps even a tentative trust between the newly acquainted mages. After all, they had ample opportunity to familiarise themselves with each other, or at the very least, gain a modicum of tolerance for each other’s presence in their shared ‘cleanup’ of the aftermath of their kerfuffle.

  The trio had a shared proficiency in earth magic, enough to coerce the ground back to a ‘natural state’; part of which involved giving the wayward Knight of Aurelion a proper burial—practical consideration rather than respectful sentiment.

  This was further aided by Selriph’s druidic-informed healing, which bade the undergrowth to sprout where overturned roots and scarred ground lay–something which raised the eyebrows of the elven duo present.

  But throughout all that, from the first corrective shift of the earth to the footfalls in the present moment, one sound remained a constant. Not the breeze, not the rustle of leaves.

  It was a low growl of the dire wolf.

  “Could you tell your little mutt to quiet down, or at least muzzle it?” Kaelan said, with a mix of irritation and discomfort—fear—in his voice.

  “I don’t think Emmett would respond to that…” Selriph’s reply trailed off as his mind flashed to the conversation with Gulica at the Shera Druid’s Circle.

  “Why not…? Isn’t…Emmett here your companion? Aren’t you his tamer?” Query flowing in Kela’s voice.

  The question prompted Selriph’s fist to tighten around the reins of his night-black steed.

  Tamer? Companion? It would be more accurate to label him as an oversized tagalong!

  Emmett’s growl paused for a second, as if it sensed Selriph’s internal thoughts; its eyes flickered with an unreadable hint of…something.

  As if it sought to voice its disagreement or requested approval or validation from its human ward.

  This… fine, I will put in a word for you. You have been helpful…

  “We have a complicated … relationship. But he has been helpful in a pinch in the limited time we have had this arrangement.” Selriph lips curved in a faint smile—half forced, half genuine.

  “It would be helpful if he didn’t look at me like I am his next meal!” Kaelan protested as he added distance between himself and the motley clutter of living things that contained the wolf.

  “Come now, brother, Emmett isn’t that bad, after all; he returned this to us.” Kela gestured to the orb-like object, the size of a cannonball—the former core of the golem, hung at the black gulper steed’s side.

  “It is a wonder he didn’t eat the arcane core. We went through hell to get that,” Kaelan replied, his eyes fixed on the disapproving stoicism of Emmett’s gaze before it flashed ahead.

  Selriph’s memory flashed with the pages of the Tome of Arcane Foundation, a passage that stuck out like a needle in skin; information on summoned familiars, elementals, which could be willed into various shapes: rodents, felines, avians, slender humanoids, winged beasts, and golems.

  The casual banter eroded any restraint on Selriph’s lips, as he allowed the natural query to come through, “So… this arcane core, where did you get this exactly? Why form it into a golem of all things?”

  The siblings glanced at each other. From the corner of Selriph’s vision, he witnessed the uncanny similarity not just in their features but in the subtle shifts in their facial muscles, as if the same thought passed freely between them.

  After a brief silence, a nod, the answer came from the more receptive of the two. “Mainstay of our homeland’s military, that’s all you need to know,” the feminine voice was firm.

  So, the Ventharian mages conjure earthen golems as frontline fighters? It is a wonder how the holy knights bested them on the battlefield.

  Selriph continued his line of questioning, unperturbed by any wall of discomfort the elves would raise. “I assume your golem is responsible for all the rumours of a ‘spirit of the forest’?”

  A chuckle escaped from Kaelan’s lips. “Hah, spirit of the forest? Is that some cover-up you cowardly Eldeitians came up with? Pathetic.” His last words came with spit.

  Selriph’s reply came calmly. “As I said, I am not aligned with Eldeitia.”

  “And I am waiting for a dagger in my sleep. I still don’t trust you,” Kaelan replied.

  Not this again…

  “You don’t have to trust me; you just need to know I cast magic without a crest. That makes me an enemy of Eldeitia.” Selriph’s voice came, and a hint of irritation began to decorate his tone.

  “Again with the crest; how do we know you aren’t just making this up?” Kaelan’s voice was slowly brewing in protest, his knuckles whitened around the shield’s wooden handle.

  “He isn’t. When they retaliated against us for our actions in Galino, they wore them like trophies, you remember, no?” Kela replied, her voice now the calmest amongst the humanoids of the group.

  Selriph’s right brow perked up at the unexpected verbal defence the female elven youth raised in his stead, expecting her sibling to reel at the sense of her words.

  That did not come; instead, an absurd statement came.

  “That means nothing; maybe he is hiding the crest somewhere,” the male elf pointed dramatically at Selriph.

  “It is engraved into flesh…” Selriph came low, quieter, not from calmness, but from exasperated tiredness.

  “Exactly, Kaelan, he showed his… flesh enough.” Her voice paused, as if contemplating her word choice before continuing, “If he had the crest, we would have seen it.” Kela gestured with her fingers.

  “We didn’t see all his flesh, for all we know, he is hiding it under his—”

  The rest of Kaelan’s sentence was cut off by a thonk, the sound of wood on bone.

  Selriph turned to its source, his gaze catching the staff on its return to idle support by the golden-haired elf, face twisted in a half-casual frown, a faint flush rising in her cheeks, before she returned to a neutral facade.

  “Enough with your prattling, we are nearly there,” as she gestured to the decayed sign ahead of them.

  Selriph followed the invisible trace of her pointed finger to the barely legible words;

  “You want to do what with the horse?!” Kaelan’s voice came, completely taken aback by the incredulous notion. The fire between the trio flickered imperceptibly at the young male elf’s bellow.

  Selriph sighed, “Through the mines. That shouldn’t be an issue, no? The miners surely used it to transfer goods to the eastern province; it should be able to fit Nightwind, if just barely.”

  “Why go through all that trouble? You could just go through the mountain pass!” Kaelan’s voice cracked

  For a moment, the Dire Wolf’s ears perked in interest before returning to their low state, its head resting on its paws in relaxed contentment next to Nightwind—a stark contrast to the male elf’s heated words.

  Selriph gestured to the dire wolf. “With him in tow? I would get searched. With my face? Death sentence.”

  Kela’s question came with innocent curiosity as she appraised Selriph’s face. “What’s the problem…? Your face seems fine, in fact, it’s quite...” before her voice trailed, as if veiled by some unseen force.

  Didn’t I just tell her that I do not have a crest…?

  Selriph replied, barely concealing his chagrin, “Magic without a crest is banned in Eldeitia if I—”

  Her interjection came, soft and polite. “No, what I meant was, if you don’t perform something like this in front of them, how would they know?” Her palm faced upwards, her fingers half-closed, curled as terramantic energy glowed, a loose rock–a pebble conjured from thin air.

  It hovered just above the fire, spun idly by its caster.

  Selriph did not answer with words; instead, he reached into his pack. The scent of the object came with the rustling parchment—musty, mixed with a dried metallic smell.

  The bounty hunter contract

  The two siblings inclined forward, eyes narrowed, heads jutted as they struggled to read the words amidst the dancing flames and shadows within the cave. Their gestures mirrored in near-perfect, uncanny synchronicity.

  Almost—for their respective attention was drawn to different words on the parchment, represented by their differing, curious questions:

  “So your name is Selriph, huh? Sounds … pious.” Kela’s remark drew a slight furrow in Selriph’s right brow.

  Then her brother’s reaction came. “A thousand gold? What did you do? Sleep with some noble’s wife or something?”

  Kela’s free hand shot up, and she gave a light knock towards her brother’s head. “Read the top, gold-glimmer”, as she pointed to the words at the top of the parchment.

  “A dangerous fugitive at large… ah.” He scratched his head in embarrassment, where his sister had hit him

  Selriph sighed. “Truth be told, I wish my crimes were that minor…” His eyes flickered with pain, and the images of the Templar barracks flashed in his mind for a second.

  A silence fell once more. Only the clatter of Nightwind’s hooves punctuated it, the horse looking around the cavern curiously, no doubt driven by the novelty of being in a cave, a mineshaft.

  Kela’s eyes perused the parchment before she voiced another question: “Late teens, you are about our age… what drove you to do something so dangerous…?”

  “I could ask you the same question. What are two Ventharians doing out here of all places…?”

  “We are taking the fight where it hurts Eldeitia the most, that is all,” Kaelan answered briefly yet assured.

  Hurts the most…? I suppose there is value in disrupting the flow of goods through the pass. It is, after all, the only land route through the Greyspire Mountains…

  “And that Golem is your means of hurting Eldeitia..?” Selriph gestured to the orb, which sat inert on a shoddy wooden pedestal on a stone platform, a near-perfect, rectangular shape with smooth edges like it was carved by a masterwork artisan—or precise Terramancy.

  “Yes, and a fine job it has done. Could probably take out those idle guards in the pass.” Kaelan’s chest puffed slightly.

  “Eldeitia is not going to be brought down by a single golem; that cannot take out the entire garrison.” As Selriph’s eyes landed on the orb.

  “No… but we could,” Kela said.

  What?

  “You have a few nails loose if you think we could do that. The three of us could clear the cave-in that you caused—that includes your precious golem. Anything more than that risks all three of us meeting the same end as that knight.” Selriph paused, shaking his head before he continued.

  “So, back to my original query, can you help me? Clear the cave-in, get Nightwind and me through the mines?”

  “Even if we could, why should we help you? We could just turn you in for the bounty,” the blonde-haired elf stated as he folded his arms.

  “Then I’d simply mention you are the ones responsible for the deaths of innocent Eldeitians…” Selriph’s voice trailed off wistfully.

  Karla interjected, palms in a placating gesture. “Apologies, what my blunt brother means is that if you want us to do something for you, you do something for us."

  That is audacious, after all the trouble they indirectly caused me…

  A silence fell as Selriph stared at the two crimson eyed elves before him, his hand balled into fist, drawn like metal objects to the magnet that was his estoc.

  Would it be better to just force them? No… best to maintain civility, for now.

  “Fine… as long as it does not involve plunging headfirst into a suicidal run against a Templar outpost. What do you want in return?” Selriph crossed his arms, mirroring the elf’s body language.

  The male elf unfolded his arms, now in a mock gesture of welcome. “That is very kind of you, noble fugitive, now that you mention it…”

  By the light… I do not like where this is going…

  Kela’s gaze shot to her brother. “Kaelan, you cannot be serious. We talked about this. Even if we could get past that thing, there is still the—”

  Kaelan mirrored his sister’s acting, the two locking eyes. “I know that, but you saw what he did to the Golem. Maybe he could help us get through it.”

  “We are not doing that plan. We don’t even know if it exists or if it’s just a rumour, a tale.”

  “Why else did we come here then?” Kaelan questioned.

  The female elf’s reply came softly. “Kaelan… not even Master Foltae’s flames would have been strong enough. “

  Flames? Strong?

  “He does not need to be as good as him, just enough for the two of us to chisel through.” Kaelan conjured a small, rocky stake in his hand, as if accentuating his statement.

  Then he paused, a rare moment of introspective restraint placed on the words that left his mouth. “No… that would never work, the noise would attract the scarab…”

  “Not if we cast Muffle; that could work along with a Veil of Shadow.” Kela said in a flash.

  Kaelan shot a look of surprise. “I thought you didn’t want to do that plan?”

  “Only if it is suicide.” Her reply came dry.

  What are they on about ...?

  Selriph, sensing a lull in their contemplative banter, interjected: “Speak plainly, what do you require of me…?

  Kela paused, her eyes flashing to her brother, her head jerking as if bidding the words from his mouth.

  When they did not come, they came from hers instead.

  “You… your flames… pyromancy….” Kela hesitated, as if stifled by the strangeness of the words.

  “Yes…what about my pyromancy?” as Selriph conjured a gentle, budding flame in his hand

  “Your magic, if they could do that to my brother’s golem…” She rose to her feet, pacing over to the assortment of items next to the stone table.

  She paused, rummaging through the loose stack of items before she produced a curved, metallic piece of plating with a faint ocean blue tinge over it.

  She then handed the seemingly unremarkable piece to her brother, who then handed it over to Selriph.

  This blue tinge… the texture, chitinous? Some sort of shell of a creature? And yet, it’s metallic?

  His eyes traced the dark blue tinge of the object he held, recognisable even in these organic remains.

  Mithril? Not pure… some sort of organic alloy… a creature’s carapace. But what kind…?

  His thoughts were cut by the query from the female elf now squatting next to him, her brown eyes brimming with curiosity as she gestured to the open flame in Selriph’s hand.

  “Could you melt through that?” Her finger pointed at the chitinous plate.