Chapter Fifty-Five

Crossing the Line

Michael peeled his eyes open sometime later. His head was a blinding mess of grogginess and pain and his body was so weak that even thinking about getting up exhausted him. Michael was lying amongst his travelling cloak with his feet and head raised on bedrolls. His shoulders and scalp ached like he’d been weighed him down with barbed wire. He was in the same part of the cavern as before while a torch burned politely in the corner.

“Morning.”

Michael rolled his head over to see Nichole sitting beside him, smiling anxiously. He smiled weakly in reply.

Nichole sat there staring at him for a long time and didn’t say a word. She looked to her hands and fumbled with her fingers before glancing back up at him with glistening in her eyes. Her hands shook.

Michael frowned and tried to sit up but his body seethed with pain, forcing him back down. He tried to breathe through it but tears rolled down his face. He let out some of his anguish in a grimacing groan and tried not to remember the last time he’d been in so much pain. “Nick?”

Nichole wiped her tears away and nodded, shuffling closer. “I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” he croaked.

Nichole looked at him, completely astonished and pursed her lips before laying her head softly on his breast and whispering, “Only you would ask someone else how they were whilst lying near-dead on the floor.”

The boy softly touched her hand and they lay there on the floor for a long moment before he weakly added, “You didn’t answer me.”

Nichole didn’t move her head, instead sighing into his chest. “No.”

“No?”

Nichole lifted her face. She looked tired beyond belief. Her eyes were red from tears and lined with weariness. She sighed and went to speak but the words seemed to lodge in her mouth.

“Slowly,” Michael urged, wincing as he shifted his body a touch.

Nichole smiled tiredly, wondering when the fifteen-cycle-old boy had started looking after her. “I nearly got you killed. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you about shredding.”

Michael frowned and shook his head but she kept on.

“It’s one of our base rules. Clear airways. Check for bleeding. Remove dust!”

Michael blinked and gave a very light smile, hopeful she wouldn’t be irritated by his humour as he said, “What makes you think that’s your responsibility?”

“It almost got you killed!” Nichole said sharply, though altogether targeted at herself as she buried her face in her hands.

Michael gritted his teeth and fought up onto his elbows, half-sitting-up. “Nicky.”

She let her hands fall away and bowed her head, breathing out her last teary breath.

“Nicky.”

“What?” she said quietly, looking up to find him smiling sadly at her.

Michael said, simply, “If it wasn’t for you, in every shape or form, I’d be rotting on the floor of my bedroom in Istol right now. That’s... that’s just the truth of it.”

Nichole shook her head and said, “And if I’d just fuckin’ remembered-”

Michael gestured to his dry-blood covered body and the multitude of bandages wrapped around almost every exposed inch of himself. “I am fine!”

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Nichole huffed, as though unsure whether she was blown away by his ability to downplay or whether she wanted to smack him for making light of her severity.

Michael saw the strained conflict in her face and nodded, knowing his light-heartedness wasn’t the answer. He took her solidly by the hand, gripping her palm firmly. “Okay. Here it is. I am hurt... everywhere, but I’m not dead. It was your job to save me the first time. However, it was not your job to teach me every damn thing about being a Legacy, nor is it your responsibility to protect me. You didn’t tell me not to slip into that moat, so are you goin’ to blame yourself for that too?”

Nichole huffed humourlessly behind her tired eyes and shook her head.

“Did you cover me in that dust?”

“No...”

“Then that’s all there is to it. Okay?” he said severely. “You’re not going to save me every time. Not you. Not James. Not Carter, Sarah, Oli, Ari or anyone. That’s not how it works. And that’s okay. I’ll be alright.”

Nichole squeezed his hand and nodded. “Okay.”

Michael smiled at her and looked over himself as Nichole then gave him the report of what had happened. She called it Shredding. When monster essence was not cleared off of a person or a structure, the material forces its way back into the ground through any surface in-between, be it iron or flesh. Effectively, the problem with Shredding is that once it begins, the only way to stop it killing someone is to redirect the cursed substance. So, unbeknownst to Michael, after they fed him the Arcane Cherry, grabbed him by the ankles and hung him upside down so the monstrous dust flowed back the way it had come, rather than allowing it to eat through his skull and kill him in a matter of minutes. After being sure he’d survive, the rest of the Legacies all decided to rest for the night and forge on ahead in the morning and see if they could find out where any more of Nikereus’ scout were hiding before they were ambushed again.

Michael knew he shouldn’t but mumbled, “Surprised James and Carter went, actually.”

Nichole saw the light hurt in his face and smiled softly. “Rose convinced them. She said the only way to keep you safe while you healed was make sure nothing else got the jump on us. If they waited here, they’d just be waiting for something else to slink out of the dark.”

Slightly mollified, Michael asked, “How long have they been gone?”

“They only left thirty minutes ago. No one expected you to be awake yet.”

“I don’t sleep well.” Michael grimaced, casually attempted to get to his knees as sweat glistened on his forehead from the effort.

Nichole watched him try to rise and firmly stopped him. “Michael, I don’t think you get it. You’re done. We’re going back.”

Michael felt his eyes grow hot he as struggled to his knees and asked, “Why do I still hurt so bad? James was fine after his Cherry.”

“Because the Cherries aren’t great for ongoing injuries like shredding. It’s like trying to restore you while you’re on fire. So much healing energy is used up pushing the dust out that only a small amount goes to fixing everything else.”

After much stubborn insistence, Nichole gingerly helped him to his feet and he instantly fell forward into her arms, not nearly strong enough to hold his own weight.

Nichole had no trouble holding him aloft but the moment he tried to turn in the direction of the stone passageways she grabbed him and steered him in the other direction.

Michael dragged his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain. “I’m not going back without them!”

“We have to! You can’t fight if you can’t walk!”

“I can walk!”

“Michael, no!”

“Nichole!” Michael’s eyes were clear and hard. “With or without you, I am going after them. They are here because of me, and they will not go a step further without me! I will not sit on the gates of the Aether and watch my friends march into Enthall!”

They shared a long, brutal look.

Nichole let out a tight breath. “Michael-”

“There is no sentence in any Draendican tongue, arcane or otherwise, that could ever compel me to leave my friends behind, Nicky. None.” Michael’s voice was flat and unlike his usual self. It was the voice of guilt and pain and resolution.

Nichole scowled at him and combed back her hair as she dug something thin and dark out of her pocket. Silently, she scuffed a black, charcoal mark on the back of Michael’s hand and said, “You have to get that branded or tattooed.”

“I’m not going back.” Michael took a harsh step away from her and the moment his foot touched stone, his leg buckled and both knees slammed into the stone floor so hard that his jaw snapped shut. After swearing out the pain, and breathing away his anger, Michael looked up to Nichole and sighed before he began crawling on his hands toward the doorways.

Nichole looked at him and shook her head before walking over and giving him a hand up once more.

“I’m not-”

“I heard you. Hold tight.”

Silently they made their way through the right entryway, with Michael clinging to her arm, shaking with every step.

“What exactly is your plan if we come across any enemies?” Nichole asked, noting that she had no free hands and about ten thousand foes directly ahead somewhere.

“That’s a… a good question,” said Michael distractedly.

Nichole glanced at him, confused, and her face went tense. “Oh shit.”

Michael swallowed as he picked up the chain resting on his chest plate, and dangling pendant burning so hot that he could smell the leather cooking. He met Nichole’s eye and they both stared into the darkness ahead.

The darkness his friends had stepped into not thirty minutes before.