Chapter 24: Shorties and Lies

Cassian awoke with a start, the scent of blood still fresh in his nostrils. Around him, the group was lounging by a small creek, waiting for him to rouse. He caught snippets of a conversation between Grumf and Isolde.

"So, when did you learn to sew, Grumf?" Isolde asked, her curiosity piqued.

Grumf chuckled, his deep voice unexpectedly tender. "Ah, it was my mother. Tough as nails, she was, but she always said a true warrior needs to know how to mend his own gear. She taught me the basics, and I took to it. Might look odd, me with these muscles and a needle, but it's useful. Combine that with a clothes mending cantrip and this golden needle, and you've got yourself a tailor dwarf."

Isolde laughed, the sound light and infectious. "I can just imagine little Grumf sitting by the hearth, stitching away."

Cassian took in his surroundings. The creek gurgled softly, its cool waters reflecting the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. Farglow’s platform had been expanded into a makeshift gurney where the Pantherian and Thorne were checking the bandages over Jessen’s wounds. Lower down the creek, Gareth was filling canteens, and Farglow’s apprentice—Cassian really should learn his name—was leaning on a nearby tree, snoozing.

Isolde looked up and noticed Cassian was awake. "Hey, he’s awake!"

Grumf immediately rushed over, his large frame looming over Cassian. "Cassian, you gotta heal Jessen! He’s in a really bad way and needs healing badly. You’re an amazing healer, please get up and do it right away."

Grumf's desperation was palpable, his hands shaking Cassian slightly as he spoke. Isolde pulled Grumf back gently but firmly. "Grumf, it won’t do Jessen any good if you break Cassian. He just woke up; give him a moment."

Isolde touched Cassian’s forehead. "The fever’s still gone. I think you’re alright. How do you feel?"

Cassian noticed that everyone was wearing short shorts. Isolde’s legs were sand-colored, smooth, and beautiful. He couldn’t believe she found time to shave even while out on a mission. Grumf’s shorts were particularly short, revealing some of his heart-pattern briefs. Cassian looked down at his own legs, grateful his shorts were more modest.

“What happened to our clothes?” Cassian asked. It might not have been the priority to ask this question, but he just couldn’t help it.

Grumf pointed to the stack of shredded pant legs by his pack where he’d been sitting, sewing and talking with Isolde. “The sawgrass really did a number on our pant legs. I’ve been fixing them up, but this is the best I could do for now.”

Cassin remembered the sawgrass. Then their encounter with the wolves. "What happened to the briar wolf?"

“Oh! Yes. Here it is!” The apprentice, now awake, pulled a glass jar from his pack. Inside was black mulch. The sight of it brought back the feeling of drowning in similar material in his dream, and the smell of blood returned. Cassian gagged, then turned to his side and vomited, getting some on the heat blanket they had laid out for him.

"You’re not well. Maybe you should lie down again," Isolde suggested, concern in her eyes.

"I’m fine now. I just need to get up. Maybe some water." Cassian insisted.

Gareth stepped up, offering a hand and a freshly filled canteen. "It’s fresh and safe. Farglow tasted it first just to make sure. I had some too. Has a bit of a cherry aftertaste. It’s pretty good."

Cassian downed half the canteen, realizing how parched he was. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "It’s like infused water from back home."

Gareth shook his head, like he knew it wasn’t worth asking Cassian about his homeland or the strange terms he used sometimes.

Thorne joined them, along with Farglow, with the Pantherian staying on the other side of the creek fussing over Jessen’s bandages. He kept glancing in Cassian’s direction, clearly hoping Cassian would hurry up and heal his friend.

Thorne looked utterly ridiculous with one pant leg fully repaired while the other was bare, showing his long curly leg hair. "Varn, what is your condition?"

Cassian closed his eyes, checking himself. He tested his connection to Lyra’s magic and his own source of magic, along with his growing awareness of what he was starting to think of as Chaos magic. Everything feels intact, but is it a little different? He felt hale, though a bit disgusted from the vomit aftertaste, but after a few more swigs of the cherry water, even that was gone. "I’m good, Professor. I can probably heal Jessen right away."

Thorne looked relieved but hesitated. "Test it with me first. If something is wrong with your magic, I’d rather you not worsen his condition."

"No! I’ll do it." Grumf lifted Cassian’s right leg onto a rock, exposing more of his heart-patterned briefs. "If something goes wrong, better it be me. You’re more important, Alaric."

Alaric… It had been a long time since Cassian heard Thorne’s first name. The professor’s lips formed a thin line as he considered, then acquiesced. "Alright. Go ahead, Mr. Varn. Heal him."

Cassian raised a hand to place over Grumf’s leg, then stopped. "Why the concern for my magic? You said, ‘if something goes wrong with my magic.’ Why?"

Thorne and Grumf exchanged glances. Isolde and Gareth looked concerned. Grumf spoke first. "Might as well tell him. Boy, while you were unconscious, you went a bit funny."

Cassian turned to Thorne for clarification, but he just looked sour. Gareth ultimately answered. "You looked like you were having a nightmare. There was a lot of flailing and muttering we didn’t understand. But things around you happened."

"Like what?"

Isolde continued. "Flowers started blooming everywhere. The trees kept leaning in and trying to grab you. Your staff sprouted legs and wouldn’t let anyone touch it. Followed you all the way here."

"It did what?" Cassian looked around until he saw his staff, looking more gnarled and crooked than he remembered.

Grumf added, "There was also the dying. Birds and such started falling straight out of the trees. Just plain died. Alaric might have tried something if your pretty lady—"

"We’re just friends," Isolde interrupted, leaving Grumf looking confused. Cassian wondered if she was always going to do that now.

"As I was saying, your… friend pointed out that nothing bad was happening to us, and in fact, our wounds were closing. Your magic did most of the work, I expect. Even Jessen got a little better, though he’s still in a bad way."

Cassian looked around at his companions, realizing they weren’t joking. He felt apprehensive about casting. What if his magic went wonky again?

Holding his breath, Cassian accessed the nature magic he borrowed from Lyra’s bond. Please, just work normally. He avoided touching the Chaos magic. His hands enveloped in white light as he healed Grumf’s wounds. The dwarf’s face eased with the tension as the wounds closed. "Feels like it’s working fine for me."

When Cassian finished, there was barely a blemish left. Thorne let out a long sigh, everyone visibly relieved.

“We should perform one more test. If there are no complications, I will allow you to work on Jessen.”

Thorne directed him to heal the Pantherian next, who protested about wasting magic on him instead of Jessen. After satisfying Thorne, Cassian was finally allowed to see Jessen’s condition.

Jessen’s bandages were soaked in blood. Grumf had said his magic had helped somewhat while he was asleep. If this is his condition now, what had it been like before?

The briarwolf had left his arm in awful shape. The bicep was split in two down to the bone, and his entire arm had nearly been torn off at the shoulder. Ribs were broken, his neck muscles severely sprained. A crack in his skull he must have suffered during all the shaking when the wolf had him in its jaws.

The healing that Cassian’s wild magic had done while he was unconscious, could barely be called that. Jessen’s bloodloss had been stemmed somewhat, and flesh, bone, and muscle had begun to regrow wrong. He was also exsanguinated. In fact, Jessen had lost so much blood that he shouldn’t be alive. It was traces of Chaos still woven through him that wouldn’t let him die. The thought made him feel uneasy, but Jessen wasn’t turning into a zombie or undead. The Chaos seemed to be serving the function of his blood, at the same time as regenerating it.

Cassian let his magic course through Jessen’s body, feeling the places that were still leaking blood, and being careful not to touch the Chaos. He didn’t know how it worked, or its relationship to his nature magic. He could tell that it was disappearing on its own as it continued to repair Jessen. But the way it was doing so was without an understanding of human anatomy. It was…chaotic.

That gave Cassian an idea. He would simply need to work around the Chaos, creating paths to guide it along. Cassian closed the areas of Jessen’s body that were still leaking blood, and reconnected as much tissue as he could without interrupting where the Chaos was still working. It should have been an exhausting process working for so long, but he felt his endurance and efficiency had improved.

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After a couple hours, Cassian felt he had done all he could. Cassian wiped sweat from his brow. “That’s the best I can do right now.”

Sable growled at Cassian. “What do you mean? You can’t be finished. Look at him. His arm barely looks like an arm anymore. There’s so much missing! Finish your job damn it!”

Grumf didn’t say anything and just stared hopelessly at his friend laying in the gurney.

They might not be able to tell, but Jessen’s breathing had improved considerably, and he wasn’t in any pain. Cassian had tweaked certain nerves so that they wouldn’t communicate pain signals to his brain. Any healer worth their salt would see what he’d done and understand its purpose. They’d also have no problems reconnecting them so long as several weeks hadn’t passed and the nerves begun to scar.

“He’s completely out of danger.” Cassian tried to make his voice confident and sure. The way a doctor on the show House might have done—just not House himself. That guy was a jerk. “It may not look like it, but he’s not in any pain, and he’s healing. If I keep going, it could kill him. He doesn’t have enough blood for me to repair the arm fully. Doing so would mean more muscle mass for the blood to…”

Cassian decided talking to them about oxygenation and nutrients and the strain on his heart continuing the healing process at this point would cause. Instead, he amended his explanation.

“If Jessen makes it to a healer any time within the next two weeks, they’ll probably be able to put him together good as new. They probably have artificial blood they can give him to quicken the process.”

That seemed to put the dwarf and pantherian at ease.

“It sure doesn’t look pert,” the dwarf said. “But I trust ye. If you say he will be well, then that is good.”

“Well done, Mr. Varn.” Thorne looked like he was beginning to release some of the tension in his shoulders he’d been building.

Cassian realized that, even as gruff and demanding as Thorne liked to be perceived, underneath he really cared about people. Well, he cared about the people he was responsible for.

Thorne turned his attention to the forest. Cassian’s sense of direction had improved. He knew the professor was looking south, the direction of base camp.

“There’s no use continuing this mission as we are.” Thorne sighed, rubbing at his temples and crouching down so he could get a better look at Cassian’s handiwork. Then he began to study the makeshift gurney and testing its weight against the power of its levitation. “We’ll keep Jessen on this gurney. Professor Farglow will operate it. We’ll be returning to basecamp.”

If they were turning back, then that meant Gareth, Isolde and Cassian would be making their escape soon. How would Thorne feel if his mission was further complicated by the disappearance of his youngest team members, who were all still students?

It sent a pang of disgust in his belly. He had no choice but to look for Aria—and now he had a clue. The mysterious woman in his dream had been the medical officer, he was sure of it.

If he found the medical officer, he would find Aria. There had been other clues—things he needed to parse, riddles he still needed to solve about his dream.

But what about Jessen? If Thorne decided that the life of a member of the security team was worth less than three students and he decided to go looking for them, then Jessen’s life would be in danger. True, he wasn’t in mortal danger at the moment, but it wouldn’t hurt for the chief medical officer back at camp to have a look. Also, if they went around traipsing through the forest, they were bound to run into more dangers. They might not be able to protect Jessen, Farglow and his assistant, and search for them at the same time. Or, Thorne might decide to leave Grumf and Sable to defend Jessen on their own and make their way to camp while Thorne looked for Cassian and the others on his own.

There were many variables that put Jessen’s and the rest of the team in greater danger.

So long as they made their way straight to camp, it might even be safer for them to travel without Cassian and his friends, if they didn’t have to worry about having to protect the three of them, increasing Jessen’s chances. Not that Thorne would weigh that as a factor in his decision making.

Cassian, Gareth, and Isolde all traded glances. They knew what Cassian was thinking, and they were waiting to see what he would decide.

The exchange did not escape Thorne’s notice. “What are you planning?”

Cassian felt goosebumps. Was Thorne prescient? He tried to school his face and come up with a lie, when one occurred to him that might forgo the need to give the man a heart attack.

Cassian sighed. It wasn't totally a lie, so it wasn’t even hard. That didn’t mean his own heart agreed with him. “Professor Thorne, I believe I know how to find the missing medical officer.”

Thorne’s eyes widened. “How do you know Yaravi’s location? Speak.”

Cassian opened his senses, he let them stretch out across the forest as far as he could. Once again, he was aware of the static—the Chaos. But he was used to it now. It no longer gave him the headache it did when he first became aware of it.

He searched for anything that could give him a clue. Maybe something that resonated with what he’d felt in his dream. Then he found it. It’s the graveyard.

Cassian pointed to the northeast. “She’s in that direction. About a day’s hike. I can’t be sure, but I think she is still alive.”

To Thorne’s credit, and perhaps his growing faith in Cassian’s abilities, he did not doubt his words. Instead, it was out of academic curiosity when he asked, “How do you know?”

“You already know I have a connection to Old Magic. The disturbance—the…thing that’s causing the magic in this forest to be out of balance—I’m connected to it too. It seems to resonate with me somehow, and give me the ability to command the creatures of the forest.”

Now, that? That was absolute bullshit. Once Cassian had begun his explanation, he’d begun to talk about some of the wild theories he’d been inventing to explain his situation. He had no idea if he’d be able to command the creatures in the forest. He’d done it once, but could he do it again? It was a coin toss.

But Thorne was eating out of his hand. The professor was looking away, conflicted by the terrible implications of potentially knowing where the missing person in the expedition was located. Cassian took the opportunity to meet Gareth’s eyes, who was frowning at him. Maybe Thorne had bought the story, but Gareth sure hadn’t.

Cassian could only imagine what that face was saying, but it was probably something like, What the hell are you doing, and what about our plan?

Cassian tried his best to communicate wordlessly that he should trust him. Gareth rolled his eyes, then schooled his expression.

Cassian decided to strike the fire while it was still hot. “Professor, you need to make sure Jessen gets back to camp safe. I think we should go find Yaravi.” Cassian stepped closer to his friends so they could show a unified front. He hoped that using the medical officer’s name would play to the professor’s distress and get him one step closer to agreeing.

But it wouldn’t be that easy. “No. Absolutely not. That is out of the question. You said it was a day’s hike from here? You’ll never survive the night.”

Damn it. Cassian should practice lying more. Maybe he should have chosen a location that was closer. Something where Thorne felt comfortable letting them go and created a reason why he should go ahead with Jessen.

Gareth, infinitely the clever one, stepped in to help. “It’s alright professor. You heard him order that briarwolf to die. You saw it crumble before your very eyes. If Cassian really can order around the creatures of the forest, then we would be in no danger. You should allow us to go. We can’t leave Yaravi to fend for herself any longer.”

Cassian wondered if Gareth didn’t have some kind of charm spell of his own that he used to influence Thorne, because it was obvious the professor was slowly caving and coming around to the idea. There was less conviction in his voice when he said, “You’re just students. You can’t go on your own. Perhaps I…”

“You can’t!” Cassian said, more forcefully than he intended. He swallowed and adjusted his volume. “I mean, you can’t. Jessen needs you, Grumf, and Sable to protect him. I’ll have the protection afforded to me by the connection to the forest. He won’t.”

Thorne’s face looked pained. His mask of composure, brusqueness and confidence were nowhere in evidence.

Farglow, who had been paying rapt attention to the conversation and looked like a schoolgirl asking her parents if she could go to the prom, chimed in. “I could go! It would be fascinating for our research to see young Varn’s magic at work. I could take readings of the levels and…”

“You can’t come either.” Cassian pointed at the floating gurney, and the gnome deflated. “You need to operate the levitation device. Also, you’d be… slowing us down with your short legs. No offense, Professor.”

Farglow looked devastated. Then he perked up. He’d had an idea. He looked to his assistant, who was playing with a grasshopper he’d found somewhere and had no idea what they were talking about.

“Navin!” Farglow called, pointing at his assistant with a shaky finger. “He can go. Then the children would have an adult chaperone!”

Cassian winced. Navin was barely older than they were, and about as naïve as a child. Also, children was not a word he wanted them associated with when they needed to be perceived as competent members of the expedition team with an important mission.

But he doubled down and nodded, knowing this might be his best chance. “That would work. Professor, if Navin comes with us, we’ll have a proper team.”

Thorne broke. Cassian could imagine the professor thinking back to this moment not long in the future and wonder what the hell he’d been thinking. It was all those days and nights of lost sleep, dreading that he wouldn’t be able to find Yaravi. And here was a chance. Hope had been the final thread pulled to unravel him.

“Fine. Navin will accompany you. I will deliver Jessen, then put together a team to return and meet you.”

Thorne pulled a map from a pocket on his jacket. Opening it, he marked several coordinates that would serve as potential meeting spots depending on the speed of their progress. He handed Gareth the map. “Can you navigate?”

Notwithstanding that according to the argument they had presented, Cassian was much better equipped to do so, Gareth nodded. Clearly, they both understand that Thorne had been utterly defeated and could no longer think straight.

Gareth looked at the map, then nodded. “Understood, Professor. We won’t let you down.”

Thorne turned his back on them and began ordering everyone to pack up their makeshift camp.

Grumf approached Isolde and handed her a bundle of the only six repaired pant legs. He looked like he’d been weeping. “Make sure to use the mending charm I taught you. With the legs as they are now, they should have no problems fixing themselves to your shorties.”

She took them reverently. “Of course. I will.”

Then the dwarf turned to Cassian and bowed. “Thank you for saving Jessen. I offer you a life debt. Even if it was not mine you saved, it was that of one of my dear friends. Good luck to you on your journey and may you fare well.”

The dwarf then turned his back to them and proceeded to help the others pack up.

Cassian grabbed his gnarly stick—still no extra legs—and slung his pack on his back. His friends followed suit. They wouldn’t test fate by giving Thorne a chance to change his mind.

Navin, who had finally caught on that he had been volunteered for something horrible and terrifying, tried to take Cassian aside. “This can’t be happening. We’re supposed to go deeper into the forest? There’s no way.”

Cassian patted the poor guy on the shoulder, pleased with himself that he’d finally learned the young researcher’s name. “Look on the bright side, Navin. They have to go back through the sawgrass field—and they’re wearing shorties.”