B5 Chapter 38 – Communing With an Old Friend

Off to see Tyron. Elsbeth might have thought of it as a good thing, once. Despite everything that had happened, she still liked Tyron, and they had a lot of history together. She’d known him almost as long as she could remember.

However, being around him now was… challenging. At least it was more pleasant than being near Rolan. Tyron may have harboured romantic feelings for her once upon a time, but they were dead and buried at this point. Ironically, one of the few things he had no interest in resurrecting.

She let a few of the Priesthood working on the desks in the downstairs lobby know where she was going, stopped to chat with some of the people she recognised waiting in line and exchanged news with them. It was amazing how much she could learn just from speaking with people, getting to know them and hearing their stories. There were many who were reluctant to come to a Priestess for assistance in the city. Some were devout followers of the Five before fleeing the Western Province, and even if their faith had died, they didn’t want to associate with ‘heathens’. Others just didn’t want to be a bother, or were determined to deal with their problems on their own.

Many followers of the Three were like this, as self-sufficiency was a virtue dearly held by the faithful.

But Elsbeth could find out who was struggling and hunt them down like a hawk going after prey. She swooped down and sank in her claws with a warm smile and gentle words. They didn’t always relent and ask for aid, some were determined to earn the favour of the Gods, and she was hardly in a position to tell them ‘no’, but at least she was able to keep an eye on them and make sure they were alright.

Conversations finished, she was out into the street. The roads were always busy this close to the field. Being the central hub of the city was one thing, but the magickally enriched and watered soil here was still the main source of fresh vegetables for the population. Distribution points had been set up to allow people to collect rations, and there was a steady stream of folk coming and going day and night.

Recently, some had been allowed to take portions of soil to create communal gardens dotted around the ruins. In another few months, there would be small vegetable patches everywhere, households banding together to grow their own food.

Something like that had seemed impossible when they’d first arrived. The ruins and surrounding wasteland had been so devoid of natural life, survival seemed like such a distant possibility. Slowly, piece by piece, vitality was being returned to these devastated lands. If they were given ten years, perhaps they could revive the entire city and the surrounding plains. Grow crops in the fields, tend to animals, create forests. It would be possible, if only they were given the time.

It was difficult for Elsbeth to go anywhere without running into people she knew, and this was no different. Between the Priesthood and the Temple where Tyron lived, she was stopped a dozen times for quick conversations. Each time she needed to excuse herself after a few minutes, only to be stopped again.

She didn’t mind it, in fact it gave her great joy to be in a position to help so many people. Things hadn’t exactly worked out the way she’d planned; she’d spent her childhood hoping to serve as a Priestess of Selene, Goddess of healing, light and purity. Despite the Three’s… unsympathetic views on charity, she had still been able to live out her childhood dream.

The Temple complex in which Tyron made his home was a hive of activity, as always. There were only a few entrances, each guarded by skeletons day and night, but there were always people going in and out. There were hundreds living and working down there, after all.

She braced herself, nodded to the skeletons and revenant watching the entrance, then headed down the stairs into the belowground corridors. She was always surprised at the lack of dust and mildew. Perhaps Tyron could explain just how the airflow down here worked? He had to know. He wasn’t someone who could let a mystery sit right under his nose and not try to figure it out.

As much as she wanted to get sidetracked, strike up a few conversations and let herself be distracted, she mastered the impulse and headed straight to Tyron’s rooms. As she predicted, knocking on the door did not elicit a response. Not the first, nor the second, nor the third. She opened it herself, pushing open the door to reveal his cozy sitting room, the door to the study open beyond, revealing her old friend seated at his desk, scratching away in a book.

Even this close, she could feel it. Her blessing from the Raven was one of insight. It didn’t allow her to see a person’s thoughts, or predict their actions. The words of Raven were always hard to understand, but she believed the blessing revealed a person’s intentions, or perhaps their desires.

It didn’t always relate to her, though it was only natural that a person’s intentions toward her were revealed when she stood in front of them.

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Tyron Steelarm, sitting at his desk, to her, appeared as if a deep, sucking void of death surrounded him. A freezing cold dragged the warmth from her limbs, and the light faded around him. So deep was the darkness she almost couldn’t make out the details of his face.

The blessing laid his inventions clear, his desires. He wanted death. He wanted so much death.

Every time she had seen him since receiving her blessing, he had appeared this way. Sometimes it was stronger than others, sometimes worse. Always, it became too difficult to stay near him for long.

“T-Tyron? Hello?” she called, her voice forming after her initial stumble.

He still didn’t respond, though it was difficult to tell. Perhaps he had glanced her way? But he didn’t say anything. Drawing in a breath, she stepped closer.

“It’s Elsbeth. Hello?”

Finally, a response.

“What?” he demanded irritably. The darkness around him thickened, the cold sharpened, then he turned toward her. “Elsbeth?”

The darkness receded sharply, the void weakening and a hint of warmth returned to the room. She could see his face, drawn and pale, yet his gaze was as sharp as bared steel, that fierce intelligence burning within.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, still clearly wanting to turn back to his work, his thoughts still caught up in the winding pathways of the magick.

“You asked for me,” she said, forcing a smile. “I heard from Rolan, he passed on your message.”

“Rolan?” he frowned. “You should stay away from him.”

Elsbeth was so surprised by this statement, she blurted out a reply before she took a moment to think.