[This post is from Phelan’s point of view.]
They first dozen steps were taken in silence as the pair walked side-by-side back toward what passed as civilization. Phelan glanced up the hill toward the forge as they walked. No smoke rose from its chimney and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
Leinth looked at him askance, her brow arching slightly. Phelan managed a rueful smile and pointed up toward the forge.
“No smoke,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“I see that,” she said, her tone patient, measured. “What I fail to see is the significance that you are placing in that fact.”
“That means Thordin’s not up there anymore,” Phelan elaborated. “With any luck, that means he’s decided to join the active defense.”
“Mm,” Leinth said, her brow furrowing for a moment. “I wish I found that as reassuring as you so obviously do, Wanderer.”
“It’s at least one thing turning in our favor,” Phelan said. “I’ll take whatever small victories I can get at this point.”
Leinth snorted, shaking her head as they walked on. “You are in fact a strange one, Phelan, but sometimes you do manage to make a little sense—though only on rare occasion.”
Phelan shrugged, his mirth fading even though her teasing didn’t really bother him too much. Thordin joining the fight did make him feel a little better, though not nearly as much as he’d just pretended it did.
This is going to be an ugly one. He could feel it down to the marrow of his bones and there was a part of him that hated that—but there was another part of him that was relieved.
It meant he hadn’t lost the ability to see trouble when it was looming dangerously near on the horizon.
Leinth put her hand on his shoulder. It startled him, but he managed to conceal his flinch.
“We will win, Phelan,” the former goddess said softly. “There is no other choice for us.”
“I know,” he murmured. “I know.”
