Chapter 6
With minimal effort, the bubble moved with them. Sel'uen kept a close eye on it, and she thought that it periodically expanded, though she felt no extra strain. She guessed it was a natural fluctuation or the Shan'do's doing. He had fallen into his more usual, pensive silence again.
She supposed she knew what he was thinking. They were all thinking it. With the storm now conquered, it was impossible not to consider what was coming next.
The Highborne.
It was still a mystery why the Shan'do had given up their regular training for a chase. He'd heard the rumors from Alliance soldiers that a band of Highborne magi (the humans had just called them elves, but the kaldorei knew them for who they really were) had passed through Honor Hold on a mission. They hadn't been allowed inside, as relations with Quel'Thalas had been dubious since the Third War. They'd been sent on their way, but not before stamping their feet, claiming to be unarmed pilgrims.
"Yeah. Unarmed," Sel'uen remembered a human guardsman grumbling. "They could roast the whole damned compound with just the fireballs out their asses."
After vehemently cross-examining those who had seen the elves, Ero'then had told the leader of the Red Sons—the human-dominated guild they'd crossed the Portal with, and to which they had been attached—that he was going after them. The man - Bern - had looked at the Shan'do strangely, but then simply shrugged.
No explanation was given to the students. All they got from Ero'then was that they'd be pursuing their training in the field. And they did.
Sel'uen had talked to Renarion about it once in the marshes, when they had been scavenging for food.
"It's an elders thing," he had told her. "They don't like Highborne."
That was no news to her. After the stories she'd been raised on, she wasn't eager to meet one either.
"He was there," Renarion had added.
"Where?" she asked.
He'd given her an exasperated look. Sometimes, when she was around him, she felt much younger than she ought. "The War of the Ancients," he told her. "He was there."
That had given her food for thought. She had known that some of the elders had been alive before the Sundering. Some, but not many. Ero'then himself wasn't exactly considered an "elder" even though he was a Shan'do.
The more she'd thought about it, the more questions had been raised. And the more questions she'd had, things she had taken as matters of course became strange to her for the first time.
Why hadn't Ero'then been treated more like an elder by the other elders back in Teldrassil? For young druids he was a dream Shan'do, a bit of a legend in his own right. But where did that legend come from? She couldn't remember any reason for it, other than whispers about a mysterious place called the Deepwood. Whatever it was, it was never shared with the "youth."
She'd had a thought, one that had troubled her and kept her awake some nights, when she let herself wonder how this little adventure would end. The dogged, seemingly never-ending chase had consumed their training. Until today, they hadn't had a lesson since they'd entered the mountains.
Perhaps Ero'then's hatred of the quel'dorei ran deeper than was proper.
She hadn't dwelt on these things for some time. The bizarre landscape of the wasteland had occupied her energy and thoughts. Now, though, with the confrontation with the quel'dorei looming over them all, she had found her thoughts drawing in that direction again.
She tried to shake her doubts. Whatever Ero'then's reasons for the chase, they must have been justified. She trusted the Shan'do, even if his treatment of them (and her) was less than kind. He was a hard teacher, but a good one. She would follow him to the ends of the world.
Looking around, she realized she already had.
