Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 70 - Aster

The sun is low in the sky as I walk to the barn, hoping to get some real information out of the shaman this time. If it had been him or Veradeaux that came looking for us at the farmhouse, we would never have gotten away with the paltry tricks we played yesterday. They would have known simple telekinesis as soon as they saw it; we're lucky townsfolk aren't so discerning between pure superstition and the truly supernatural.

As I trudge through the snow, I marvel at Leavi's promise to me. How in all realms could she be planning to get me home? It's an impossible task, even if Draó and Morineaux weren't guarding their borders; during wartime on her own land, Morineaux enacts a strict policy about people coming into the country. In the travel-disheveled state I would be in, I have no doubt the guards would throw me out as a foreigner.

But she said she would help me.

What purpose would saying something like that serve? What does she think she can do to change this foolish situation I have gotten myself into?

All of this—every bit of it—is my fault. If I had stayed, I could have helped defend the castle. I could have defended Sela so that she wouldn't have had to be taken to the Meadow. I could have been the one to take her if it was unavoidable.

Instead, Agraund is dead, and it's my fault. I'm stuck in this farmhouse, wasting away the days. What is wrong with me that I ever found it acceptable to forsake my country, my duty, for such a foolish quest?

But Leavi said she'll help me get home. Even though I lied to her, even though she's in danger because of me, even though she thinks it's my fault Sean left. She said she'll help.

The wavering sunlight is scattered by thick clouds, but there's still light enough for me to see by. Food in hand, I slip through the field.

Amarris's questions make sense now. An ache rings through me that my unhelpfulness didn't stop the attack. That she would help the Kadranians try to conquer Morineaux is despicable. Then again, she always has been a self-serving snake.

Part of me doesn't even want to give this food to the Kadranian worm. Part of me thinks starving is the least he deserves after helping with this attack on my homeland.

I won't stoop to his cruelty, though. I refuse to be comparable to a Kadranian.

I push into the barn. Instead of the shaman tied up by the wall, in the middle of the room is something small and round, faintly pulsing with clear blue light. Idyne must be putting together some spell. In this small town, I doubt Veradeaux was working with any casters other than the shaman and her bumbling novice. That doesn't mean I want anything to do with the mysteriously-motivated magic, though. I skirt the sphere as I hurry up to the loft, fervently hoping someone moved him here, and try to ignore the smell of some creature that must have gotten trapped up here. If he isn't, the only possibility is that he esca—

Completely limp against the wall, the shaman is covered in mostly-dry blood. His head lolls back, revealing a jagged gash so deep in his neck, he's nearly decapitated.