Chapter Twelve
“You, Sam, was it?” I ask him. He looks up with a set of dead eyes, I avoid them without meaning to, he makes me uncomfortable.
“What,” he simply responds, voice tired.
“That fire magic, was that you?” He blinks slowly at me as if he doesn’t understand the words. But before I can ask again, another young man is at his side.
“Sam! Are you okay!?” the youth yells.
“I’m fine Percy,” Sam says, voice slurring, “I just need to… sleep. In private.” The last words are said while he looks straight at me. His friend gets his hint it seems because the young man named Percy is now cautiously staring at me.
“I’ll get you to a bed,” he says, and, with Sam leaning on his shoulder they walk away, leaving me to stand here; my question left unanswered.
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The first thing I notice is the familiar tent ceiling, a white cloth that’s not cleaned enough greets me. After a moment, however, I’m bombarded with the memories of yesterday, both seeing the demons, and their subsequent attack. Secondly, is that what little mana I had collected is now spent. Though making the statue, back in Lorvia, felt amazing, I was also left nearly dry at the time. Bear meat helped my issue but it can only sustain little spells like my wind bursts, whatever I don’t use is saved up of course, though that only adds up to so much.
Now that I’ve slept for so long again, well I’m still leaking all this time. My ability to contain it is increasing as I’m forced to practice, but that doesn’t help my nightly release. I am now back to avoiding magic at all costs, which is a huge problem, because, while I can avoid the air spells easily enough, and that fire spell of yesterday was an exception; there’s another spell I’ve been maintaining since last night. It’s taking negligible amounts of mana, but the focus I need is worse than any other spell thus far. The magic is simple for the most part, just a color-changing illusion, my blonde hair appears brown to the onlookers. And if that was all? Well, that’s barely noticeable compared to forcefully containing my mana.
Unfortunately, it isn’t all, the caravan people are already aware that I’m blonde, so I can’t change it for everyone. It’s only that knight that sees the brown color. Which involves a very slight amount of, well, soul magic. An elective I took to improve my illusion skills, is now paying off.
Soul magic has this unfortunately high demand of focus, I was regarded as a prodigy in class, and it still feels like my brain is frying now that I’m tasked with living my daily life in addition to it. Not to mention the effort needed to contain my leakage. The combination of the three is like reciting poetry while getting kicked in the gut. As I lie here on a simple cot, I find that removing the daily life aspect makes all of this significantly easier. Simply lying here allows me to focus. Luckily that knight isn’t here, so I can afford to drop that illusion. My stomach drops along with it, there are definite limits to how much magical effort I can sustain; I’ve ignored those limits for too long as it is.
There are footsteps outside the tent, by the time a figure makes its way inside I have re-casted the illusion. At the expense of any comfort, my stomach is in revolt, and my entire body feels like it's swelling. I can see myself pop like a balloon if I continue.
“Oh you’re awake, thank god,” Percy tells me. The relaxation I feel in his presence forces me to drop any attempt at magic. When I try to get up to greet him, however, I only get halfway before I spit out blood. Exhausted, I fall back down to the cot. My friend is at my side in seconds.
“What’s wrong!? Can I help?” he asks worriedly. I try to wave him off but the motion moves my stomach and I’m too busy suppressing the urge to vomit to signal him again. He’s not deterred at all.
“I’ll get someone else,” he says and moves to leave the tent.
“Wait!” I just barely get out, blood is seeping out of my mouth, and still, I try to explain, “Avoid that knight, he cannot see me. Whatever you do, keep him away.” I try to enunciate my words but there’s too much liquid to speak clearly. I can only pray that he understands.
“Alan?” he says, confused at my words. I try to maintain eye contact, all in an effort to show the seriousness of my words.
“Alright,” Percy answers resolutely, “I’ll try.” It’s the best I can expect. Now, more than ever, I do not want him to discover me, I’m defenseless. I can barely throw up an illusion. Keeping my mana inside is taking everything I have. Speaking of mana.
“Meat,” I mutter weakly. My friend doesn’t seem to hear. Again, I try to form words.
“The… bear meat,” I say this time, louder. My effort pays off and I’m handed some jerky, only to be faced with a new challenge. My limbs are shaking, and when I try to open my mouth I barely notice the meat slipping from my grip. I recognise the sound of someone sighing and if I wasn’t such a broken shell of a person I would’ve defended my honor. As it stands though, all that happens is a slight groan from me.
“I’ll feed you,” Percy says. Then I hear him walk away, leaving me behind, confused at the contradiction between his actions and his words. I don’t have to be confused for long, however, because he returns shortly. When I turn my head slightly I can see him enter the tent after a quick minute. Now armed with a knife, my adrenaline spikes but I relax when he starts cutting the dried meat into smaller chunks; all to help me eat them easier. My eyes water a little.
I watch as he cuts the meat, awkwardly, because dried meat isn’t as easy to slice as you might expect. I witness the glorious sight of him realizing it’s much easier to just tear to pieces. With renewed efforts he gets to work, amusing my tired brain. When he deems it small enough, he grabs a handful and moves towards me, he freezes for a short moment when he realizes I’ve been watching him.
“You didn’t see anything,” he concludes, I would nod but that’s too much for me. His embarrassment put aside at the sight of my suffering, he moves closer. I open my mouth and he feeds me a small piece of the jerky. It’s like a blessed rain on a desert, new life fills me as my mana reserves are replenished a little. The salty taste is just right and it takes effort to keep still. Any movement would do more harm than good, though I’m severely tempted to grab Percy’s entire supply of meat. Whenever I finish a piece, he feeds me another. This goes on for almost an hour, it’s only then that I feel full. My feeder friend leaves soon after helping me drink from a water flask.
Then I’m alone, and I have little else to do but think. Magic is out of the question, though I amuse myself with my senses regardless. Trying to track the people working outside is tough, made significantly worse by containing my mana at the same time, but it’s also a rewarding challenge. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t set my mind at ease somewhat, the ever-present fear of the knight was taking its toll too.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
My thoughts spin out of control as I feel myself heating up, back in fight or flight mode. The crystal I saw between the boulders is on my mind, as is the eye in the basement. Alan killed those demons without batting an eye, is the church perhaps not as corrupt as I had imagined? The twisted visage of the eye in my mind is laughing at me, I can almost hear it. Why does the Order of Sight have a giant eye in their cellar, how come a knight of their Order kills demons but not that monstrosity they have. Are they experimenting on it? Or…? A horrifying thought cuts through me, I’m scared to even think it. Fortunately for my sanity, I am interrupted by another guest. James makes his way inside the tent.
“Sam! I heard you woke up, how are you?” he asks, concern on his face. His question makes me consider my current state.
“I’m… not fine, but recovering,” I eventually tell him, then remember something he promised me, “Speaking of recovery, would you mind giving me that mana potion that I worked for?” I say, wincing at how blunt my words sound. James gives an awkward laugh.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” he admits with a guilty look on his face, “Not that I don’t want to of course! You earned your keep,” he adds.
“The thing is, I don’t actually have one. The high-quality potions are somewhat expensive and I have no real reason to keep any on me, I’m not much of a mage myself and we have enough guards; both mages and swordsmen,” he explains, “I was planning on buying one for you when we arrive at Gartric. The city that Percy’s father owns.”
Well, there goes that idea. Back at square one, I’m once again rendered mostly immobile and in need of mana. James must have seen my troubled face because he speaks up again.
“However! I have some low-quality potions if that suffices?” This crafty merchant knows very well that it does, I imagine that the only difference between the two is how much mana you get out of one.
“I just need mana,” I reveal, “As long as I get enough I’ll be fine.” James tilts his head slightly, somewhat confused at my situation; then his eyes widen a tad.
“Is that why you’ve been eating all that jerky?” he questions, “Wait! Is that the medicine that old hag prescribed for Percy?” he shouts, connecting the dots. Unfortunately, it also functions as an attack on my head, and so I wince. James mutters an apology for my plight. Still suffering, I nod my head at his question.
“That damn… I knew she ripped me off. Hold on though, if that meat cures whatever it is that Percy suffered from, how come you still need it and he doesn’t?” This merchant is unnecessarily sharp, I’m not about to explain the whole issue.
“That’s complicated and private,” I say, clearly enunciating the words, “What matters, is that I need mana and that I need a lot of it,” I add after I judge that my previous words have sunk inappropriately. James thinks for a moment.
“Low-quality potions wouldn’t be ideal then,“ he concludes, to my surprise, “If you take too many potions in a short time… Well it’s not pretty,” he explains.
“No, no potions, but perhaps… Yes, those demons might help you,” the merchant states, horrifying me. Luckily he realizes what he just implied and hastily clarifies.
“I meant their bodies, demon bodies have a lot of mana contained inside,” he explains hurriedly, “They’re sometimes used as alchemy reagents, mostly for mana potions of very high quality. Not exactly legal, but much easier to get than some of the other ingredients.” The idea is still somewhat revolting, but I’m starting to understand what he’s saying.
“I might be able to extract their energy then,” I say, thinking out loud, then I remember the other guest of the caravan, “What about Alan though?”
“Oh, you know him?” James says and I shake my head hard enough to hurt, though movement hurts in general at the moment.
“No, Percy mentioned his name, but he’s a knight from the Order of Sight right? Won’t he have issues with us using a demon’s corpse?” James considers my worry.
“He might raise a fuss, but this is my caravan and you’re a guest that’s paid for. I never liked their attitude anyway.” His words don’t set me at ease, and my suspicions about the Order only worsen. The merchant gets up, presumably to retrieve a corpse, but I interrupt his departure.
“Wait, before you go, I need your help with one more thing.” James looks at me with an expecting look.
“Keep Alan away from me, I have… bad memories with the Order,” I tell him, it’s not the most convincing reason, but the trader is already not too fond of the knight. He thinks for a while, and I worry about what he’ll say.
“That’s fine, I won’t pry then,” he just says, and without any fanfare, he leaves the tent. I just let out a sigh of relief.
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He’s avoiding me, that brown-haired guy. Percy has become downright suspicious of me and refuses to let me see him. All I want to know is who cast that spell, that was not easy magic. If this Sam was the one that did? Well, that would be quite the achievement for someone of his age. Enough of one, perhaps, that the bishop will want to scout him personally.
It’s not like I can afford a bribe. Still, a discovery like this should please them; they might even put me back at the Sanctuary Castle. Or at least raise my salary. Unfortunately, while I was debating just walking into the tent they keep him in, the other people seem to have gotten the wrong idea. I can see them watching me when they think I’m not looking, Sam must have made some friends because they’re not letting me get anywhere near him. Even the drakes are stationed close to the tent, and there’s one in particular that is glaring at me. So when the merchant finally leaves the tent I intercept him as he walks away,
“Hello?” I say, blocking his way, he glares at me for a moment before acting as though nothing happened. With a grin on his face, he answers.
“How can I help you!” he responds, trademark joviality thick.
“I want to see Sam,” I say, cutting right to the point. The trader is unaffected by my bluntness.
“Is that so… Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you, he’s still recovering and is in no state to receive guests,” The slimy merchant says, managing to insert genuine-sounding remorse into his voice. I grind my teeth at the obvious lie.
“Didn’t you just visit him?” I ask impatiently.
“Well, I’m not exactly a guest, am I? Any merchant worth his salt would keep track of their guests’ health. I can’t help but feel guilty when I remember how demons injured him so,” he explains, the mockery in his voice clear to my ears. How dare he blame me for his inadequacy. The coward was going to run the moment he could.
“What about the other one, Percy, he visited too.”
“Well, Percy and Sam are friends, how could I stand between them? Percy was by his side for half the night, while you so heroically went out to hunt the rest of the imps. Did you get them all?” My eyes are twitching and I grind my teeth, this irritating man is knowingly blocking me.
“I have a topic of my own to discuss with you, however,” the merchant continues, “It’s concerning the demon corpses.” I interrupt him hurriedly.
“We’ll burn them of course,” I state, the trader’s face stiffens a little, “We must remove the demon’s taint in its entirety of the course,” I say, knowing full well that this is just dogma of the Order, the real reason isn’t nearly as holy.
“Yes, about that, do you think you could perhaps spare one of the corpses?” The man ventures, somewhat hesitantly, my eyes narrow.
“Are you aware that the sale of demonic corpses is forbidden by law?” I say, caution in my voice. The merchant’s eyes widen at my words.
“Sale? Of course not! But the law does not forbid gifting them, no? I have a friend who’s interested in them.” Annoyingly, he’s right. That law is full of loopholes, all to protect the production of certain alchemical concoctions. Something that the Order has been trying to prevent, in vain thus far. There’s just too much money involved in them, the illegality of selling corpses is a statement more than anything else, it just tells those involved to barter instead. No currency means no proof.
“While that is true, it’s still frowned upon to possess anything of demonic origin, I will dispose of these things myself,” I tell him, not that these corpses will be destroyed. They’re much too valuable for that. In a cold voice, the gray-haired man in front of me responds.
“You would commit theft then?” he states simply. But the implication is clear. The people sitting nearby go still, stealthily reaching for weapons.
“Theft? Of course not, I killed these beasts myself!” I say in defense. The wrong move. Someone interrupts our conversation.
“You? Some, yes, but it’s the kid that killed the rest. I saw him,” an older man says.
“We all saw him throw those fireballs,” another adds. There’s a crowd forming and I can sense the danger.
“I- I was only talking about the ones that I killed, of course, the others would belong to Sam,” I’m forced to admit; I have no interest in fighting these people. My words appease the forming mob somewhat. Meanwhile, the merchant is visibly pleased with my reaction.
“I see! It was all a misunderstanding then. Sam already permitted me to collect his kills after all.” This damn… He got me, I can’t refute any of that.
“Then it’s settled,” I hiss through gritted teeth. Still, I got something out of that, it seems it really was Sam that cast that magic.
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In front of me is a red being, thin and elongated, in defiance of biology.
“So, do you think this will help you?” James asks nervously. I shrug my shoulders.
Wordless I reach out, one finger trailing its body, from a misshapen hand, up to a bony arm with bulges stretching the skin. When I reach the elbow I start to feel something inside of it, slowly I move upwards. The shoulder, then the neck. There isn’t much left of the head, and its face is melted and disfigured. But when I move my hand downwards, my eyes go wide at what I sense. In the middle of the body, right around where the spine should be, is a very dense cluster of mana.
“Could you… cut it open?” I ask Percy, who’s standing next to me. Reluctantly he complies, opening a hole where I point. Silently I watch him do it, when he reaches the middle of the creature, my suspicion is confirmed. There’s a heart. Or perhaps just something mimicking a heart. Entranced by the mana I can feel being held within, I reach inwards. My index finger touches the biological engine, and my mind turns off like a light bulb.