Michael
Michael groaned as he opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground staring at the sealing dozens of meters above him. His chest was still aching, but it was nowhere near the searing pain he had felt just a moment ago.
A face he hadn’t expected pushed into his view, and a bearded smile welcomed him.
“Hello there, Michael. It has been a while,” Thomas said.
Michael forced himself into a sitting position and allowed the older man to pull him to his feet.
The library hadn’t changed since the last time he had been there. It was still an impossibly large collection of literature with high ceilings, clean stone walls, and a wooden floor.
“I need to get back to the battle,” Michael groaned while getting up.
“You are the one who came here, and I assume you are the only one who can make you leave again,” Thomas replied. “Either way, the battle was mostly won already but with the reinforcements that probability has become a certainty.”
Michael thought for a moment and then nodded. “You are probably right.”
“Come on, let’s sit down and talk. I feel like you are here more firmly than the last time,” Thomas said, guiding him back to his table.
Michael inspected the small pile of books lying there. De Bello Gallico, Historical Battle Tactics, The Art of War, and a couple of others.
Thomas noticed Michael’s curiosity and chuckled slightly. “I decided to study a bit if wars and battles are something we can’t avoid.”
“Quite a change from back then in the forest,” Michael noted as he opened up De Bello Gallico.
“We can’t realistically avoid it. Which means that the least we can do is doing it properly,” Thomas replied. Michael wasn’t the only one who had changed in the past years, it seemed.
“Some of these are more entertaining than useful though.”
“So, what is this place? And please don’t say a library again.”
Thomas smiled slightly before answering. “It is a collection of everything that is me. Every book I have ever read, every experience I have ever made, my whole life in the shape of a library.”
“You truly are another person with your own life,” Michael said. “Where did you come from and why are you part of my mind?”
Thomas looked at him with sad eyes and pushed the glass contraption up. Michael now knew that they were called glasses and helped people see who had bad eyes.
“I can’t explain it myself, one moment I was talking with one of my students, and the next I was here,” Thomas explained.
“But where did you come from? You seem to know things that no one else has thought of. Are you a soul from long ago or far away?” Michael pressed but the old man didn’t seem inclined to explain his origin.
“Michael, you must understand that my origin is nothing I can or should share with you, at least not yet. It doesn’t change anything and would only burden you.”
“You are not some kind of demon, are you?” Michael frowned at the man with open suspicion.
Thomas shook his head firmly. “I am not. I am a human just like you.”
“Why should I believe you?” Michael asked. “I haven’t been the same since you joined me. Well, assuming you did when I got knocked out back when I was a kid. I have become a completely new person, and you have been pushing me toward things. It does sound a little bit like the whole demon child thing. I don’t know how to feel about this partnership of ours. Which thoughts and ideas are actually mine, am I just some kind of puppet?”
The words just spilled out of him. He knew that he was insecure about possibly being manipulated, not only by Thomas but others as well. But Thomas was the reason why he couldn’t even fully trust his own thoughts. He did have some animosity toward the old man because of that, even if he had been generally helpful as far as Michael could tell.
Thomas looked at him with empathy and then reached into his pocket to retrieve a leather square. He opened it up and pulled out a piece of paper before handing it to Michael.
He inspected it and found that it was some kind of impossibly detailed painting. It depicted a woman who probably matched Thomas’s age, two younger men and two women, and a couple of children of varying ages, together with Thomas himself.
Michael looked up at Thomas and asked, “Your family?”
Thomas nodded with a pained smile. “My wife, two sons with their wives, and my grandchildren.”
He looked at the picture with a longing expression for a moment before continuing to speak.
“I know your life has been turned upside down since I got thrown into it. I know because mine has been the same. I wish I could return to my life but that is not going to happen. Of course, I am aware that all I am saying could be a lie and there is no way to prove my words, but I hope you can afford me some trust.
“One thing I want to make clear is that you are an exceptional young man with or without me. Most of the brilliant ideas were your own, you identified problems and all I did was present you with possible solutions that I could think of. And even if you might not believe me, I have given you a lot less help than you probably think, and I most certainly have never tried to conceal when a piece of information came from me.”
Michael studied the old man’s face, looking for any hint of deception but came out empty-handed. His suspicion didn’t just fade but made way for a mix of pity and guilt. The man was trapped in his body after all.
Don’t abandon trust just because suspicion has failed you, Michael thought to himself.
“Alright, I will trust you,” Michael said. “Do you have any idea why I am here?”
Thomas smiled gratefully and then hesitated for a moment before answering. “I am not sure. I too felt the pain in our chest so maybe we got attacked like back with the wolf spirits.”
“Again, something that shouldn’t be possible for humans of the current age,” Michael mumbled to himself.
“This is a subject where Kiran could give you better advice than me.”
Michael inspected the old man. “How does this work by the way? Do you see everything I see and hear my thoughts?"
“I am aware of what is happening around you, but I only know of the thoughts you are sharing with me,” Thomas explained and folded his hands comfortably on the table.
“What do you mean? How do I share thoughts with you?” Michael asked with a frown.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“I was suspecting that our connection was less conscious than I had hoped,” Thomas replied with a thoughtful expression.
“Most of the time I hear your thoughts when you are searching for an answer or when analyzing a problem. Like in the strategy meeting, you were wondering about a way to increase your odds, and I could hear that.”
“Hmm, maybe it has something to do with intent. Maybe I should talk to Kiran or Ferrekxan about this,” Michael suggested but it was obvious that Thomas wasn’t on board with that plan.
“I would prefer if you did not share our special situation with anyone. You should know best how such rumors may be misconstrued. The dragon surely has an inkling of my existence, but I do not trust him and neither should you. He is using you for his goals and doesn’t even try to hide it.”
“And I am taking advantage of him in turn,” Michael replied. “But I am not arrogant enough to believe that I could square up against a dragon in a battle of wits, so I will keep our secret.”
Thomas smiled thankfully and let his gaze wander to the books on his table.
“While I have you here, I should probably impart you some wisdom from my life,” he then said and reached for a book.
The title was ‘The Prince’ written by a scholar whose name Michael had never heard of or knew how to pronounce.
“This is quite a famous book where I come from. It is a collection of thoughts and philosophies of a political scholar, and I think you should read it,” Thomas explained.
Michael opened it up and was happy to find that it wasn’t written in some kind of ancient language.
“The external battle is over but we both know that the internal one might be even more dangerous,” Thomas continued.
“Thank you. I will take its lessons to heart, I promise,” Michael replied confidently but the old man waved him off.
“Do not take this book as gospel. Many consider the author a political pessimist and question his way, but I do believe that there are many valuable lessons to be found. So, take what you find valuable and leave the rest. If you do need an explanation or just someone to discuss, just ask.”
Michael wanted to talk with the man who lived inside his mind more, but his body language made clear that he thought of this as more important, so Michael accepted it.
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Sola
Sola rubbed her eyes as she tried to follow the conversation around her. She was the only one seated next to the bed of the unconscious Michael while the rest were standing.
It was difficult to follow them, her mind was sluggish from first the long march, then the short but hectic battle, and then the fight for the injured. She had drained herself of mana continually for hours already and it wouldn’t stop soon.
“He is probably just drained from mana expenditure,” Kiran noted with a tired tone. “Pan also nearly collapsed at the end of the battle, and she is more experienced with mana than Michael is.”
“I don’t know, Kiran. He wasn’t supposed to drain himself this much,” Geron argued with badly veiled concern. He was covered in nicks and bruises from his quite frankly idiotic vault into the thick of the enemy lines. A prayer of thanks to Lord Idas had seemed lackluster to Sola when her man had returned from it with only surface-level injuries.
“He wasn’t supposed to fight in the front line either but here we are,” Lord Grim said sternly.
Sola turned her head to Eydis who was standing in a corner of the tent with her arms crossed in front of her arms. She was positively covered in bandages. It was honestly impressive that the woman was still standing after what she had to endure.
“We expected the clans to converge on the spear tip as the biggest threat, they were smarter than that. It could have become really messy if they managed to break through the line,” Geron admitted.
“They didn’t and it made our job easier,” Lord Grim said. Sola wasn’t quite up to date with everything that had happened, but she had exchanged some words with Sir Kilev while treating the grievously wounded Samuel Ragar. He had told her that the line was strained and buckling but would have probably held, though at a much greater cost.
Sola was happy about the reinforcements, she knew that Michael valued Samuel and without a quick end to the battle and medical assistance, he might not have survived his crushed ribs.
She looked back onto Michael’s sleeping visage and placed her hand on his brow. He was burning up. She quickly grabbed a piece of cloth and soaked it in water before placing it on his forehead. The bloody streak on his face where a blade had nicked him had been cleaned and would probably close in a matter of hours once the boy could channel his mana again. She for one had none to spare for anything less than lethal injuries.
“This doesn’t feel like mana exhaustion,” she said.
Before anyone could say anything, a new voice joined them. “It isn’t exhaustion.” The voice was cold and devoid of life. Everyone spun around and Lord Grim’s hand flashed to his sword. Geron barely managed to stop the Count from splitting the lynx-masked man in half.
“He is one of us,” Geron explained hastily.
Sola could see that the count was startled by Lynx being able to sneak up on him so perfectly, which also explained his violent reaction, but he nodded understanding.
“You must be the source, my nephew got all this frighteningly accurate intel from then,” Lord Grim said while still eying Lynx with mistrust.
The grandmaster of spies bowed slightly but didn’t give a further answer.
“You said it isn’t simply exhaustion; do you know what it is?” Geron asked with a frown. None of them were very familiar with the lynx-masked man, but they knew that he had some obscure knowledge that none of them understood.
Lynx stepped past them until he stood right next to Michael’s bed and gazed down at the sleeping teenager. “His soul has fractured. Only the tiniest of margins but there is a chip in it,” he said after inspecting it for a while.
Kiran’s eyes widened as everyone looked to the experienced mage for an explanation.
“How is that possible? Attacking someone’s soul is such a difficult practice even when ignoring that one needs to gain a life-or-death affinity first. I only ever met one man who could even touch another person’s soul much less damage them. It borders on a crime against nature,” the mage said quickly.
“Someone attacking the radiant soul is one possibility for his state. At least we can rest assured with the mage who has achieved this to be destroyed if that was the case,” Lynx said and turned away from Michael.
“Why is that?” Lord Grim asked harshly.
Lynx ignored the hard tone of the count and explained calmly. “Michael has the strongest soul I have seen in centuries in a human and when attacking a soul, you put your own against the enemy’s. You can get an advantage by being skilled, but no human of this age is that skilled. The moment someone touches Michael’s soul is the moment he burns.”
How old is he? Sola asked herself. He talks about centuries and about people of other ages as casually as I would about my time training with the Order of Purity.
“I saw that before,” Kiran spoke up. “Michael destroyed a wolf spirit who touched his soul in the wolf clan’s ancestor rite.”
Lynx nodded, “For the reason you have stated Master Kiran, I do not believe this to be the case. The Rangda do have a focus on life affinity, but I have seen none that come even close to such a feat.”
“What are the other options?” Kiran asked.
Lynx stayed quiet for a moment as if contemplating but then he explained, “Michael’s soul is unstable. It has been unstable since I first laid my eyes on him. I fear that it is too strong for its vessel.”
“Are you telling us that he did this to himself?” Lord Grim asked grimly.
“I believe in this theory, yes. Through the strains of battle, he pushed himself too far and overstretched his soul causing it to tear. With his soul being as unstable and tense, a normally titanic feat becomes much more likely with little effort.”
“That makes no sense,” Sola finally joined the discussion while gritting her teeth. “Michael has pushed himself more than this. He wasn’t completely drained when I got to him.”
“It was the biggest spell he ever conjured,” Kiran reminded Sola. “I can see that he strained himself by controlling such a vast amount of mana that he broke something. It would be like me putting all my mana into a singular cast and I have a stable soul. We might have to accept that Michael might not be able to use his magic anymore now that a crack has formed from his casting.”
“Why?” Geron asked with a frown. “As long as he refrains from casting something large, he should be fine, right?”
Kiran shook his head sadly. “His soul is chipped now so it has become much more dangerous. You wouldn’t swing a sword with a fracture in the blade and expect it to hold indefinitely.”
“Can a soul heal? Is there something we can do?” Geron pushed.
This time Lynx was the one to answer. “A soul is not a bone that can be mended. It is a repository of all that one has experienced and everything one is. There are ways to undo damage to the soul, but they are dark and much more dangerous than a fracture in a soul ever can be. A soul is not meant to be healed it is meant to bear the marks of life and that fracture has become one of those marks.”
A somber mood settled on the gathering as they all looked at the sleeping boy.
“He will not accept this,” Sola pointed out quietly.
“We will just have to convince him. He will kill himself if he breaks his soul even further,” Kiran said.
“If he wakes up,” Lynx noted which earned him some nasty looks which he promptly ignored.
Lord Grim sighed loudly and then turned from Michael’s bed. “There is nothing we can do for him right now, so let’s get back to work. We have injured to care for, men to organize, and prisoners to get moving. I want to be gone as soon as the men have had some rest.”
After the count, the others left one by one to tend to their tasks until Sola stood in the opening of the tent, looking back into it. Eydis had moved next to the bed and was gazing at Michael’s unconscious expression with a mix of emotions.
She wanted to talk to her, but Sola knew that only Michael could help the woman right now. So, she sent a short prayer to Idas and then returned to the designated healer station just a few dozen meters from where Michael’s tent had been placed.