Alec’s lungs burned with the need for air. The young man fighting desperately against the hand on his chest. The slender limb like an iron rod for all he tried to move it, pinning him to the bottom of the bathtub as he stared up at the ceiling through the softly glowing water.
Surely they had to let go? To let him snatch a breath? It felt like his lungs were on fire as he fought to hold out just a little longer until finally he could hold it in no longer. A mass of bubbles rose from his open mouth as he tried to breathe water.
If he’d thought it burned before he let out a breath, Alex realised he’d been wrong. Before this he’d had no idea what burning really felt like. He’d heard Amara describe lava before, and that was probably the closest thing he could think of. It was as if his lungs were coated in something that was just searing away at his insides.
The only consolation was that already the pain was starting to fade even as his struggles turned into genuine spasm and his vision tinted grey at the edges.
Surely they had to let go?
*
Merida watched with quiet dispassion as Alec finally went limp in the bath of mana saturated water, the archmage’s hand closing upon his shirt to wrench him out of the water as she hit him on the back, trying to help him cough up the water he’d inhaled.
It took the best part of a minute and the teenager looked downright wretched as he tried to get his breath back. When finally the hacking coughs stopped Alec managed to raise his head to glare at the archmage currently fussing over him.
“I thought I was going to die!” He growled out, surprised at just how rough his voice was.
“But you didn’t.” Merida told him tartly, “Now take a deep breath.”
“You can’t be-” Alec began, before barely grabbing a lungful of air as the elf’s surprisingly strong grip pushed him back down.
The elf took a moment to take in the somewhat concerned looks she was getting from the three liches she’d managed to recruit to keep the water fully saturated. They were all fairly young by lich standards, young enough she’d been able to intimidate two of them into helping pro-bono.
The trick to reading a lich’s age was the eye-lights. Just having them was sign enough that they were fairly new to undeath. There was nothing about the process of becoming a lich that required they have glowing eye sockets but a lot of the undead master mages had them. As eerie as the light was, people found it less off-putting, as a general rule, than just empty sockets.
A lot of liches personalized their eye lights. Be it colour, making them flicker like candleflames, or a dozen other minor variations that the undead community in the Necropolis thought either made them look good or more approachable.
The modern style was to link the glow to their emotions, and right now all three’s eyes were glowing so wide and bright it was like having six shocked searchlights directed at her.
It was pathetic. The liches of her youth had been towering figures who would have happily half-drowned a dozen children without even thinking it worthy of remark if that was what was required. Or perhaps they hadn’t been.
Perhaps it was just that she’d been young and they’d been in a war for their very survival at the time. Certainly she’d never gotten the chance to ask them.
Whatever the case, the weakness from what was supposed to be the pinnacle of necromancer kind disgusted her more than she could put into words.
“He’ll be fine.” She told them curtly, even as Alec went into spasm for the second time. “We need to realign all the mana receptors in his body, that includes the internal ones. Unless you want him unable to use magical healing without crippling himself?”
“Be that as it may Archmage. I cannot help but find this method unnecessarily hazardous and abrupt.” Arcturus declared. No title, no dread epithet, just Arcturus. It was a decision Merida could respect.
Of the three, Arcturus had been the lucky find of the group. The lich was on the verge of entering what the undead tended to regard as maturity, which was to say his fourth century, and had transitioned to undeath with almost indecent haste because the trappings of mortality – such as sleep, eating or other people – had interfered with his research.
There weren’t many at the Necropolis who specialized in chaos, the mysterious psuedo-mana of the Hells was far more the purview of the Path of Summoning, but Arcturus was as close to an expert on the topic as the Necropolis had, and his particular interest, the spontaneous warping effect it had on both the living and undead alike, was particularly useful in Alec’s case.
Which was why when he had a suggestion to make, even the notoriously aloof Archmage of the Myriad Arts listened.
“What would you recommend?” She asked as she helped an increasingly dishevelled Alec cough up more water.
“Saturate the air instead. It would be a more gradual process but would put less strain on the subject’s body and would reduce the need to treat it for mana poisoning. As things stand its body recognises its receptivity to chaos as its natural state and the required healing will likely undo most of the work done.” Arcturus stated, red eyelights a steady, calm glow.
“I see.” Merida groaned, pushing Alec back down before he could give a complaint, or worse an opinion. “Sadly, whilst I concede the less than optimal methodology, it will have to suffice. Unless you know at least a dozen other liches who’d be prepared to help, we haven’t the mana to do it.”
Arcturus considered that, “I will make inquiries. Though I suspect I will be frustrated upon the matter. Were I less familiar with the circumstances I would fear you were attempting to create some sort of abomination loyal to you.”
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That certainly got a raised eyebrow from the venerable elf, Merida almost forgetting to yank Alec out of the water in time. “Explain.”
“The subject is in peak physical health for its age, and has already undergone a measure of combat training according to its file.” Arcturus said evenly, “It’s pool of magicka is unnaturally large for its age, likely what drew the Archmage of Entropy to train it in the first place, and will only grow larger with the constant friction caused by its bond with the dryad. This treatment will also increase its magical strength. If I did not already know you accepted no challenges to your authority I would suspect you of grooming an archmage.”
“St-stop-” Alec managed to gasp out, drawing Merida’s ire away from Arcturus for a few seconds. “Please just give me a-” With a sigh Merida pushed him back down. Not that she blamed the boy, while it was very much in his best interests, at least if he still wanted to be a mage once the hour was up, there was no denying that this was literal torture. To the point that she had in the past used it to torture people.
With Alec safely rendered mute once more she turned her attention back to Arcturus. “Tell me Arcturus, does it provide you some strange joy to call the boy it? To deny him personhood?”
“Given the risk inherent in both administering the treatment and in its aftermath, I find no need to get attached to the subject. At best it would merely impair my judgement, at worst it would lead to anguish at it...” He paused as he realized Merida’s disappointed scowl was only deepening, “his likely death.”
The Archmage shook her head. She had not reckoned that the Necropolis’ foremost expert on demons would be so weak. “Attachment is not weakness. Prioritizing attachment is weakness.”
“And yet in my experience one almost inevitably leads to the other, archmage.” Arcturus riposted as deferentially as he could manage.
Merida sighed, pulling Alec up to allow him another breath. This was, it seemed, going to be a long hour for both of them.
*
Whatever Alec was doing, he surely had to be having more fun than she was, Holly mused as she very slowly went through the combat drill she’d been shown for what felt like the umpteenth time. Combat drill was overselling it in truth. It was a single parry and thrust with a staff, and by this point her arms felt like they’d been filled with lead.
The rest of the advanced students were working in pairs, apart from Brin who was sparring with the teacher.
Master Vortigern Vee was a rather intimidating figure. Unlike most of the Necropolis’ senior staff he’d eschewed the traditional black robe for the thick boiled leather of some sort of beast (still black naturally) and the glossy finish made him appear strangely insectile. Something only further advanced by his bald head, through which, in several spots, his skull was visible.
The day had started surprisingly well. They’d taken an early night the day before and arrived at breakfast before everyone else, which had allowed them to claim the comfiest seats. Of the ones designed to seat a human of course.
Breakfast had been a little awkward. Anesh and Kristos had still wanted to know a lot more about Erebus than either of them felt safe disclosing, and Alicia’s four way death glare had done little to dampen things. She really had to find out why the most senior student hated them so. Right now she honestly didn’t even have a theory and, given she was the paranoid of the pair, she didn’t need access to Alec’s thoughts to know he didn’t either.
Brin had been… honestly she was trying to think of a complaint for the amiable ogre but it was hard to come up with anything. The lumbering monster had been nothing but friendly and kind, universally so in fact and as for Hope… that was where she rather needed Alec. The teenager was much better at reading arachni than she was.
That was another thing she was noticing a lot now the bond was back to just thin enough to live on, just how much she’d relying upon Alec’s abilities to fill the gap when necessary. Back to being thin was too kind really, even when it was freshly forged it hadn’t been this tenuous or frayed.
Once breakfast had finished they’d gone to read their new schedules. Already a full week of classes planned out for all of them. For today Alec had Mana Realignment followed by Basic Reanimation, lunch, an hour of what had been just called Library Time followed by Basic Magic Combat and Undead of Reath whatever that was.
Her own schedule was almost identical, just with Remedial Physical Combat substituting Mana Realignment. That continued on through the week, with a lot of basic this and remedial that on the schedule, in fact the only exception was ‘Advanced Physical Combat’ on Alec’s timetable, which stung just a little bit.
Then they’d been split up, Merida retrieving Alec at the door with typical abrupt style as she more or less grabbed him by the shoulder and began frogmarching him away before he could even get a word in.
That had left Holly alone with her fellow students, wincing in discomfort as the already weak bond grew weaker still from the increasing distance. At least at first. About a minute later the pain had vanished as if Alec were back in the room with her. Something that was far more alarming than relieving really.
If Von Mori, or as a last resort Erebus, had done it, Holly would have welcomed it, and thanked her lucky stars in the process, but the thought of the elven archmage’s grubby fingers on their combined soul didn’t just send a shiver down her spine but had it doing laps.
Remedial Physical Combat had begun with her lining up with the other students to wait for the teacher to arrive.
Given her previous experience with powerful mages, she’d expected a flamboyant entrance, bursting through the door by kicking it off its hinges, riding in on a pillar of fire, all was possible. So when he’d just walked in to stand opposite them she couldn’t quite help feeling let down.
“Ah, wonderful. You would be the new student. Holly of Von Mori?” The ghoul asked as he dropped to his knees with an audible creak, the other students doing likewise and Holly, after a somewhat startled nod, following their lead. “Good. You may address me as Master Vortigern when we are within this room, outside of that, address me as you will.
“I will confess I am not entirely sure how to train you. For all you are a spirit of nature, you are not a product of it. Your instincts may be entirely wrong, your reflexes likely non-existent. But I will do my best to teach you how to transform your body into a weapon. That is my promise to you. In return your promise to me is far more simple, and I fear to say far more taxing.
“Promise to try. Every day, just try. And together we will find out what works for you.”
It was official. She’d known Vortigern Vee for just over a minute and already he was easily the best teacher she’d ever had. Not the sink-or-swim methods of Von Mori, not the ‘pressure makes diamonds’ methods of Erebus and his gaggle of colleagues. And certainly not the ‘pain is the best teacher’ madness of Merida.
That impression lasted about ten minutes, just long enough for her arms to start to burn with pain from the repeated movements.
He’d at least explained why she was spending her morning doing a single motion, taking her aside once everyone had begun their sparring to tell her in a low growl, “The problem is noone’s ever taught a dryad how to fight using their body, or if they did then they certainly left no surviving records. I checked.”
The old ghoul gave her a leather-lipped smile. “It would be easy to just assume you can train like anyone else. But it would be a foolish assumption. For all you look human, you are not. There may be things I regard as totally normal you are incapable of doing, and there may be things your body can do that I would find impossible. It is my privilege to devise a training program for you.”
He bowed low, almost painfully sincere, “First I must know if you can build reflexes like a human can. Develop muscle memory. Or whether your body is solely at the whim of your conscious mind like a revenant.”
That said he’d guided her through the rather simple movement and told her to keep repeating it until he said otherwise, before hurrying to spar with Brin, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Damn but she was lonely.