The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 795: The Archmage

"Well, that was exciting," Korra said as the doors to the Great Hall closed behind us.

"Do you think she’ll be alright?" I asked, tail flicking.

R’lissea nodded. "Lord Greenpine is powerful, but he isn’t unreasonable. That’s what I remember my tutor in Duskwood said, at least."

"He’s supposed to be the ’reasonable’ one?" Korra asked. "If you hadn’t done something, I was ready to rip that guy apart," she snorted. "The nerve of him, insulting Xiviyah like that."

R’lissea’s face turned rosy. "I, um...was that okay? I knew you would...I didn’t want him to get hurt."

"No, it’s fine. I just didn’t think you had it in you. You were always so shy," Korra said.

R’lissea blushed harder, gripping her skirt. "I-I am."

"Sometimes," I said, smiling faintly.

"Hurry along," the escort said, glaring at us. Korra glared back, and his jaw clicked shut.

As we passed a large window, I leaned out, letting out a soft gasp. We’d climbed several flights of stairs since leaving the great hall, and now had the vantage to look over the walls into the city of Brackencliff. Most of the trees fell below, seamlessly woven between the buildings, yet a few giants towered high above even the tips of the keep’s slender spires, like pillars holding the sky up. The sun hung low over the rugged cliffs and mountain peaks, casting a red haze over the city. The refugee tents were crimson in the light. The line between the sunlight and the cast shadow of the cliff moved slowly, but visibly, crawling across the valley. The angle of the valley meant it would be hours until it was fully dark, but in just a few minutes from now, we’d be locked in gloom.

A few servants approached from a bend in the hallway ahead. I spared their plain white robes a glance before turning back to the window, admiring the view. As I leaned out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the horde or Last Light Company atop the towering mountain peaks, the back of my neck prickled. A sudden surge of infernal mana caused me to turn, my hair streaming in a whirl. There was a blur of red and gleaming silver, and Fyren appeared in front of me, sword drawn. He gripped the massive blade with one hand, jerking me behind him with the other.

Korra and R’lissea reacted to the demon’s movement, the first summoning her mana in a watery aura, the second snatching her staff out of a burst of green light. They looked around, cautious but uncertain, until they found Fyren’s target.

The trio of servants stood frozen in place. The two in the back were frozen stiff from Fyren’s presence, trembling from head to toe. The third, however, caught my eye. He stood calm and collected, hands folded behind his back. Though he was dressed in simple clothing, he had a regal bearing, becoming a servant. It was just a feeling, something honed through countless hours of slave training, but I got the impression he was one used to giving orders, not receiving them.

His soul barely registered to my senses, but...no, that wasn’t right. There was a slight inconsistency to it, a waver that when combined with his unnatural composure under pressure, could only mean one thing.

"What is the meaning of this?" Our escort demanded, drawing their weapons. "You dare show steel in the house of Lord Greenpine?"

"Peace, soldier," the servant said in a surprisingly strong voice.

I jumped, startled to find the servant now standing behind the guard, a restraining hand on his shoulder. Fyren’s sword was already leveled at him, but I hadn’t even seen him move.

"What are you...how did you..." The guard stammered, eyes wide. He took a step back, nearly colliding with another one of the equally frightened escorts.

The servant straightened, getting even taller if that was possible. He reached into his robe and withdrew a scroll. Wordlessly, he pressed into the captain’s hand and strode toward us, stopping a few feet shy of Fyren’s blade.

"Who the hell are you?" Korra asked, tensing.

"Forgive me for the deception," the man said, bowing his head. "But I’m afraid it was necessary."

As he read the scroll, the captain of our escort suddenly stiffened. He pressed his hand to his breast in a quick salute and silently retreated, leaving us alone with the free servants. I barely noticed, drawing on the Oracle of Eternity and narrowing my eyes at the lead servant. My aura grew denser in response, the stars flowing toward the source of my scrutiny. The servant, if it was still proper to call him that, looked around curiously, subtly reaching with one hand, dragging it through the mist. Eddies of stars swirled past his fingers, and a thoughtful look crossed his face.

It didn’t take long for me to pierce the illusion of his soul, my eyes slicing right through it. It was a curious technique in which he restrained his aura by condensing his soul as small as possible. It was similar to the technique I’d used to hide my soul from the demons, but far more refined and practical. It was impossible for me to conceal my strength to this degree.

There was something familiar about his appearance, too. He had long blonde hair and piercing green eyes. For some reason, I felt his lips would look more natural wearing a smirk than his gentle smile. And his eyes...if they were just a bit bigger, his body more slender, and his jaw less chiseled, he would look a lot like–

"Eighth-level?" I whispered as I pierced the illusion. My heart skipped a beat.

My heart leaped in my throat, a jolt of panic making my tail go rigid. Were Fyren not holding me by the arm, I might have summoned my staff then and there, calling heaven and fleeing. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, with a powerful frame. He moved with a grace more refined than Korra’s, without a single wasted movement. He wasn’t hulking, but his muscles were far more than merely toned. His arms alone were as thick as my thighs.

"You’re no archmage," I said, shivering slightly. Was there a warrior this powerful among the elves? I should have argued to bring Fable here after all!

"No, I think she’d kill me if I claimed that title," he said with a low chuckle. "You may call me Aerion.

"Aerion?" R’lissea tilted her head. "I... know that name. You were gone when I was here, subduing a dragon, I was told."

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "What can I say? It was a small one, I might add. Nothing like you lot killed in Blacksand."

Fyren lifted the point of his sword an inch. "You still have yet to explain your approach. Had you shown the least bit of hostility, you would be nothing more than a pile of ash."

Aerion touched the tip of his sword, nudging it away from his face. "A bold claim from one standing at the same level as me. Or perhaps you would rely on your demon form, Lord of Ash?"

"Lord Aerion," one of the other servants, a young woman with shoulder-length hair, said timidly. "Lady Sunsinger is waiting."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Aerion muttered. He waved at us, turning and starting after the two. He glanced over his shoulder, beckoning. "Come as guests. Please."

I exchanged a look with Korra, who shrugged.

"We should go," R’lisesa said. "I think Sunsinger is the name of the house of the Archmage."

"Xiviyah?"

I looked helplessly behind us, at the empty hallway. "It’s not like we have anyone else to follow."

"Then let’s get this over with. That elf’s arrogance irks me," Fyren grumbled.

By the time we caught up, Aerion and the two servants had taken another two flights of stairs, leading us into one of the slender towers that rose to challenge the trees. The elf lord flashed us a smirk. Fyren glowered at him. I noticed, with some angst, he had yet to sheathe his blade. He didn’t actually plan on fighting the elf, right?

I drew short of breath around the fourth flight of stairs, flagging to the rear of our group. R’lissea slowed to my pace, taking my arm in hers, meeting my apology with an understanding smile.

At last, we reached a door, painted white and inlaid with gold. Intricate enchantments were woven through the wood and into the walls, reinforcing it with strength matching my strongest spells. I’d never actually cast an enchantment before, but the way the mana moved felt a little too familiar, mimicking some aspects of my style I’d never seen in anyone I hadn’t studied with.

In the center of the door was a pulsing light crystal. The light rose and fell with the sound of our footsteps, humming faintly.

"An adjustable light crystal?" R’lissea asked, frowning. "Haven’t seen one of those before."

Something shifted in my heart, and my breath caught. My feet felt like lead, and butterflies stirred in my stomach. R’lissea had to tug me up the last few stairs.

"Hurry in, they’re already going in," she said, giggling.

Reluctantly, I let her pull me forward. The weight on my chest increased, until I couldn’t breath.

Aerion waltzed in front of us, plopping down on a couch stretched against the far wall. "We’re here, sis."

A tall, slender elvish woman stood with her back to us, reaching up to the top shelf of a bookshelf stocked with ancient, musty tomes. She froze at his voice, her long blonde hair swaying as she turned, hand slowly dropping to her side. Her eyes were green, searching our faces as we entered one by one. When they settled on me, I froze, my hand slipping from R’lissea’s. The world blurred, tears filling my eyes.

There was a startled gasp. "Xiviyah?"

Fyren’s soul flared, but relaxed just as quickly. I brushed past him, to the silhouette I could barely see through the gathering tears. I lost track of what happened next, knowing only that I was swept up in a fierce embrace.

"Selena," I whispered, my tears dampening he front of her dress. "I waited so long...I’ve missed you..."

She smiled, tilting my head up to meet my eyes. Her eyes, sharp and piercing, glistened wetly.

"I was starting to think you weren’t going to visit," she murmured, stroking my hair. "But I’m so glad you did. Welcome to Sylvarus."