Born of Flames

Chapter 18 ~ The Opposite of Painful

Rain was still pouring come sunrise, or what would've been sunrise had there been a sun. The sky lightened just enough for Arlon to make out what was happening beyond the temple entrance, but he couldn't see much further than the nearest hills.

Miniature rivers had been formed by the deluge and wound through the area, carrying branches, small shrubs, and other debris downhill. Every few minutes, lightning flashed across the sky and thunder boomed, sometimes loud enough to make him flinch.

Yet Neeri remained asleep and seemingly undisturbed. Arlon had shifted into himself soon after she'd drifted off, once he was certain her shivering had ceased. He had taken the time to build an actual fire from scraps of wood he gathered within the temple and stacked in the already flaming bowl.

He hadn't wanted to waste more of their medical supplies than necessary and there was plenty of wood lying around so they wouldn't have to worry about going out to gather more. Arlon had sat beside Neeri ever since then, unable to make himself move away. Witnessing her memory had awakened something within him. Something primal and instinctive, an urge to protect.

He just couldn't figure out why he felt this way now and hadn't before when they first restored her memories. Perhaps it was because he hadn't known her then like he did now? Or maybe it was because he hadn't seen her react to those memories like this one. She'd fallen unconscious almost as soon as they finished.

But he also hadn't lived those memories like he'd lived through this one. This one had felt real, as if it happened to him too, not just Neeri. No wonder Rehema had been so drained afterwards, if she'd experienced the same thing he had. He'd have to ask when he next saw her.

For now, he was still contemplating everything he'd witnessed. It made sense now, how Astaroth could return through Rhidian. The way Morana had explained it before, it sounded like Rhidian only possessed some of Astaroth's magic. Arlon hadn't been able to see how that could lead to the dark Lord's return, but if Astaroth had literally embedded a piece of himself within Rhidian...

And then there was the obsidian dagger Astaroth had used on himself. That shouldn't have been possible. Noxbane was the only existing blade able to cleave through shadows, and only because it had been forged by Hadeon, who had created Astaroth. How could a mere stone dagger do what an immortal Hel-forged blade could?

Had Hadeon also forged the dagger, or had Astaroth somehow created the weapon himself? Arlon tucked the thoughts away with a frustrated sigh. He'd have to share them with Morana and send a letter to Rehema when they reached Ophir. They were the only ones who might be able to come up with an answer.

He glanced at the entrance as thunder rolled again. His lips pressed into a thin line as he eyed the sky. At this rate, they'd be thrown off schedule by at least two days. After what they'd learned, they needed to be in Ophir now!

Arlon went rigid as lightning flashed, reflecting off something in the shadow of the hills. He squinted, but the light was too dim to make out anything definitive from here. He rose silently and approached the entrance. He braced a hand on one of the stone pillars and leaned out, squinting again as wind gusted rain into his face.

Lightning arced overhead and just vaguely, he could make out the shape of a body, stumbling back behind the hills. Someone was watching them. He bristled instantly, shooting a glance back at Neeri. She was still sleeping, her hands curled beneath her chin and knees tucked up to her chest beneath her cloak.

He deliberated only for a moment. She needed her rest after last night. She'd be safe enough while he scouted the area. Arlon snatched up his bow and slung a quiver of arrows over his shoulder. His sword was already sheathed at his hips and a knife was stored on the back of his belt.