Thomas crouched out of habit, even though it wasn’t necessary. He and the horses were invisible to non-arcane sight for another twenty minutes or so, so crouching wouldn’t add much to that. The shadow that passed over him was a large, dark thing, a great mockery of Feather made out of darkness. It bore riders that Thomas could not make out, and it headed up.
Going over the storm? Thomas wondered. The daelkyr half-blood felt a strange quiet in his mind when he looked at the great bird-thing. Instead of trying to figue out how to reshape its flesh, his mind was trying to figure out how to kill it. The stormstalk in his neck pressed against Thomas’ head, whispering supplications in his mind to flee from this place. There was no love lost between the daelkyr and the fiends. Each saw the other as the only true rival to domination over Eberron.
Thomas checked his scrolls again, worried at the diminished supply. The illusion spells that he had were flimsy, and would not last long. Furthermore too many of them would not travel with him as he creept with the horses to the northern side of the city, they needed a fixed location.
Silver Flame guide us all together again, Thomas prayed silently. He was glad that they had met Flamebearer, even if Delegado wasn’t. The bugbear’s words brought Thomas peace. She had told him that the power of the Flame to purify was based in its truth, and that the truth sets everyone free of self-made chains.
Thomas had placed his faith in that. He had to. The daelkyr half-blood had attempted to live with cynicism and isolation for years, and they hadn’t worked. Flamebearer had never lied to him, so he was counting on her.
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