From Iron and Ruin

783

Chapter 33: 783.

"Interesting," Taelan took hold of my arm as I caught my breath. His hands were warm, his fingers calloused but he was careful as he examined my shimmering veins.

He didn't look bothered by the harsh training he had unleashed. Magic and steel – as is an Elf's training. He had sparred with me and then he had turned to what magic that the tablets had granted me. He wore a strange assorted leather scaled armour – light and flexible and yet, stronger than any of the armours I had ever possessed.

He didn't seem to notice that Matthaeus was watching us intently across the training pit. I knew he noticed – if I saw him, then this High-Elf definitely did, but he had yet to comment on it.

"It should have killed me," I murmured as he turned my palm skyward, tracing one of the marks burned into my skin.

"It should have," His eyes cut to me. Up close, his pupil was framed with gold. "And yet, twice it failed to."

"Why?" I reached for my water-skin with my free hand, my head throbbing with exhaustion. Matthaeus had taken me before Taelan and I truly thought he had taken out his frustration on me.

I had eaten the dirt multiple times, new bruises throbbing and my tongue fuzzy.

Taelan had been just as kind to me.

He took in a soft breath, releasing my hand. He examined the sheen of sweat on my forehead, my heaving chest. "People whisper about you, Seeker. They whisper of a soul who cannot be killed. In my exile, I grew curious. When Kohen asked me to pass you a message, I couldn't refuse. Nor could I refuse when he asked me to come and help you."

"Do you believe the rumours?" I asked.

"You're not special." He watched my face closely. "You are not some fabled hero who the fates have decreed to save our Empire. You are not destined to rule, or even to be great. You are a great fighter, but not the best that I have seen."

"You don't think I can save the Empire?" I questioned.

"I didn't say that," He smiled softly, head tilting. "You are ordinary, and yet you are still alive. The magic in the tablets should have burnt your veins to cinders, but it didn't. A hundred more souls across the Empire could have found themselves in your position. I think it's because you made a choice."

"A choice?"

"You told me your story," The High-Elf began to walk to the post, rolling his broad shoulders. For a second, his attention flickered to Matthaeus.

The vampire straightened.

Taelan's lips pressed tight, but when he glanced to me, his smile was pleasant. Bland. "You said that each time, you were sure that the tablet would kill you and yet, you still took it."

"My desire to keep the people I love safe is hardly enough to keep such old magic from turning me into a pile of ash." I snorted.

"Does everything need a complex solution?" Taelan asked softly. He took a drag of water, letting the silence fall.

"I just think there must be some kind of...reason. Some kind of ... Devon Trevil had the power of the tablets and it tore him apart. From what I heard, anyway."

The Elf looked to me now, his eyes darkening at the mention of Trevil. "That man was a worm. Unworthy of the skill he was born with. A human who excelled far beyond even some Elves. He had the power of three tablets, but on that last battle-field, it was clear it was ravaging his body. He took that power for selfish reasons."