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Ch. 19: Kohen? : Kohen Delim Veldor
🕑 Added 2025-09-09 22:00:10 +0000 UTCKohen grit his teeth as he watched the wall fall and the queen charge in. His hands twitched at his sides, eager to draw his lightning blade. Eager to rip blood from the beast’s veins and twist it into a weapon of his will.
Except, Kohen Delim Veldor should not have any such spell. Kohen Delim Veldor, eldest son of the Warden of Vaisom and the Force Enchantress, was a Force and Lightning spellsword. He fought with a lightning aura and force and lightning spells. Kohen Delim Veldor did not know how to manifest Concept Blades. He did not know how to steal blood or manipulate it.
He knew that.
And yet. He—whoever he was—knew exactly how to do those things.
His sister’s lackey blocked the queen’s advance and interrupted the charge of her children.
His hand twitched up. It would be easy enough to throw up a Fortitude’s Aegis to reduce the inflow of beasts. Was it not his duty to protect noncombatants as a member of Fortitude’s faithful?
He clicked his tongue, his hand tightening into a fist.
Kohen Delim Veldor was not a member of Fortitude’s faithful. He did not know Fortitude’s Aegis. Fortitude’s Aegis was a skill granted to Fortitude’s elite paladins, a fact Kohen Delim Veldor had no business knowing. He should not have access to that skill.
That his hand itched to perform the gesture to summon it was irrelevant.
He needed to stand here. He needed to stay out of the eye of people who knew what he should know and would notice if he knew things he shouldn’t.
He also should be in the thick of it.
He should have been on the wall. Killing rhynselk vanguards would have been easy experience. After losing out on a dragon, he needed every advantage he could get his hands on.
And it shouldn’t have been hard to stick to Lightning Rain from there.
Kohen Delim Veldor should have been able to keep Lightning Rain up for half an hour at a respectable density if that was the only spell he was using. With Kohen Delim Veldor’s Arcane Concept reducing the Focus cost of his spells, it should have been easy.
But Arcane was gone.
Arcane was fucking gone.
He pulled up his abyss-cursed status screen, as if checking would change it this time.
Kohen
[Race: Vamphelish Demonic Thrall
Lvl: 33
…
Concepts:
- Lightning
- Blood
- Aegis]
His teeth ground together. Should he be thankful he hadn’t lost Lightning at least?
Should he be glad he hadn’t lost his Gestural Magics skill? Should he be happy it wasn’t worse?
That he wasn’t worse?
“You are going to Trallyn’s Apothecary and Clinic. They are doing revolutionary work in skill alteration and curse removal. They will be able to fix you,” his mother had said. “Stay out of sight until then. Don’t use these corrupted skills. Don’t engage with these infecting Concepts. You are Kohen Delim Veldor. My eldest son. We will fix this, and you will proudly support your brother.”
He’d agreed. Everything she said made sense—as rotten of a Jothi woman as she was. He winced at the thought. That wasn’t him. He was Jothi. He was a noble of… Of…
Abyss and blood. Focus, man.
“Of all the poor luck we find ourselves with,” Tiador muttered, his lime eyes not leaving the advancing tide of rhynselk.
“It was never going to be a peaceful trip,” Kohen said.
Tiador snorted. “That was why we joined a caravan, though, wasn’t it?”
Kohen nodded. The thought all but made his blood boil again. They—his mother—had picked out a caravan that could protect him.
Him? Needing to be protected like some common noncombatant?
He was a noble. A priestess. A—
He winced again, putting a hand to his forehead. Abyss. How far gone was he?
The point was, he would be protected. By the caravan. By Tiador and Daidyn. He would make it to Belden without raising his sword or casting a spell.
Like an infirm coward. That woman had done this to him.
His eyes slipped across the battlefield. There she was, a new staff in her hands. His mage behind her. A growing pile of beasts before her. She was raking in the experience while he was trapped here among the noncombatants.
Air-brain slyphid should know her place.
Ahead, a rhynselk rammed through a caravan guard, its nose horn impaling him through the chest. Blood sprayed through the air, suddenly and beautifully unowned. His for the taking.
He closed his eyes. As if not looking would help. As if not looking would blot out Sanguine Sense. As if he could ignore the pulsing of blood through the bodies around him, the rapid heartbeats of the noncombatants, the labored bodies of the shield-bearers ahead, the rabid pulse of the running beasts.
It was a symphony he couldn’t ignore.
That he had to ignore.
It was demonic. Unnatural. No human should have a racial skill like that.
But it was perfectly normal for a vamphellen.
Which he wasn’t. It didn’t matter what his status screen said.
He was Kohen Del—
What was the rest?
Abyss take him.
The rhynselk threw the man to the ground, tossing its head and lowering it again for another charge.
There were rows of noncombatants between himself and the beast, rows of living shields to cover him. His teeth ground together. That was how weak he was now. Forced to rely on noncombatants for cover.
Daidyn moved in between them, his greatsword drawn. The vargher’s whole body leaned forward, as if the fool wanted to rush to the front. Did it hurt his sensibilities to cower back here, or did the man have delusions of heroism? He’d never been able to tell with Daidyn.
The crowd in between tensed, the first row shifting back.
A man to his left glanced his way. “You’re Lord Veldor, aren’t you?”
Kohen stiffened.
“You’re here to protect us, right? The last line of defense?” Desperate hope flickered in the man’s eyes. His pulse pounded through his veins.
“Daidyn, handle the creature,” Kohen ordered, looking away from the noncombatant abruptly.
“My lord, you sure?” Daidyn asked, hope all too loud in his voice.
“Our job is to protect you,” Tiador whispered from his other side.
“Which you will do better by slaying the things than hovering around me,” Kohen snapped.
“As you will,” Daidyn grunted. Louder, he shouted, “Coming through!” and he sprinted through the crowds.
They scrambled out of the big man’s way, splitting like a river around a rock.
The rhynselk charged at the same time.
Daidyn swung his sword, the long blade glistening black with his Concept of Obsidian. It slammed into the rhynselk’s horn. The two clashed, like titans of legend. For a moment, they were locked in place, bestial momentum straining against martial might.
The horn cracked first. It went with the sound of ice crushed beneath a blade, sharp and powdery.
Daidyn’s sword kept going, digging into the beast’s shoulder and driving it to the side with the force.
The rhynselk snorted in frustration. Ice crystals formed around its face, spinning through the air and back at the huge swordsman.
Daidyn whipped his blade up in salute, the wide blade covering his face. “Ardent Block”
The ice shard slammed into him. Or, into the invisible defensive field his skill had created.
Daidyn twisted his blade around again, slashing at the monster’s flank. It cut deep into its hide. Crimson blood, hot and steaming into the magically cooled air, flowed onto the cold stone.
Daidyn more than had this one handled. Unfortunately, it was far from the only beast.
Far ahead, the Queen and the mercenary leadership fought. She bled across her sides and snout. But so did her opponents.
More of the caravan guard and hired mercenaries fought the endless tide of herd members that flowed in around their queen.
More rhynselks fell before the defenders. Blood, beast and man’s, pooled into the dark stone.
And still they came.
A rhynselk burst through the line of defenders and into the sea of noncombatants. A horn went through a chest. More bodies were plowed down, hooves crushing flesh into stone.
Tiador pushed him back, his swords flying from their sheaths and into his hands. Tiador darted forward through the crowds like an arrow and skewered his silver blade through the beast’s eye. In less than a breath, he’d withdrawn the blade and Shutter Stepped back to stand in front of Kohen.
The rhynselk stumbled, its body suddenly not responding to the impulses firing through its brain.
Daidyn’s blade sunk deep into the shoulder of another.
Tiador darted out again, dropping another.
An ice shard shot into Daidyn’s chest, denting his armor.
A horn sliced across Tiador’s cheek as he withdrew again.
Hooves crushed noncombatants.
The Queen slammed Captain Jont to the ground with the thrash of her head.
Kelstor unleashed another gout of fire from his maw.
More poured through the gap.
It was chaos.
Chaos he would have thrived in if only he were able to join. He could see it: Lightning rain over the gap in the wall, pelting the rhynselks as they charged through; Revolving Lightning around him keeping the beasts off him as he set up Grand Revolution, his major ritual spell and trump card, around the Queen.
Did he still remember all of Grand Revolution? Abyss. Why was the spell form fuzzy? He couldn’t have forgotten it. That was the spell he’d used to kill the Lord of the Pass.
His hand twitched again. The Concept Blade would be so easy to draw here. He could build it of Blood or Lightning and reap chaos through these cursed Jothi and blasted beasts. There was no good reason to restrain himself.
None except the knowledge he shouldn’t know that skill.
Daidyn cut down another rhynselk, its head dropping from its shoulders.
Tiador skewered another.
Another noncombatant fell.
Sir Kaiz slammed into the wagon wall, blood coughing from his lungs with the impact.
The line was crumbling. There were beasts among the noncombatants.
The caravan would not make it.
He took a step back. They were still a day and a half out from Belden. Could he make it there with just Tiador and Daidyn? With no supplies?
Not to mention, there were more rhynselks outside the wagons. But if they took horses, they could ride with the beasts until dark when they would inevitably slow, then pick their way out of the herd under the cover of night. It wasn’t a safe plan, but were his chances better if he stayed here?
No, not a chance.
“Daidyn, fall back!” he shouted over the crowd, his voice filling with the authority of Commander’s Rally and his status as Daidyn’s liege.
The vargher backstepped through the crowd, falling back to Tiador’s side. “What’s next, boss?”
“We back up,” Kohen said. “And we get out of here.”
“We’re abandoning the caravan?” Tiador asked.
“Do you see a reversal in our favor?”
Tiador shook his head.
Daidyn’s shoulders stiffened. “You sure, boss?”
“I am.” Kohen let Noble Authority fill his voice. There wasn’t time for debate. He’d made his decision. It was time to go.
The vargher nodded. “Behind you, to your right, there’s a gap in the wagons. Lord Tiador, sir, lead the way. I’ll follow behind.”
