After picking up enough words to make sense of the map, Benjamin was able to pinpoint where they needed to go. Tesktar was on the other side of the mountain, but not far at all when you could fly. That should put a grin on his protagonist’s maw, right?

Benjamin looked over his shoulder to see the dragon’s reaction with a smile of his own. Kinsoriel’s face was instead one of sour annoyance.

“Is something the matter?” He asked as he wound the map back up.

“That’s going to take a week!” Kinsoriel complained with a huff.

A week? Getting where they were right now would have taken a week, had they not flown. Why would they start walking now? With his confusion probably visible on his face, Kinsoriel decided to display the problem.

He extended his right wing for Benjamin to see. And see he did. It had been damaged in many places and had purple stains here and there. Given the massacre he had walked in on, he didn't need to know where they had come from. It was concerning that a random group could do this much damage. Such wounds would keep them grounded without a shred of doubt. The sight begged a question.

“Not to sound crass,” he said as put a hand to his chin, “but couldn’t you fix that with some healing magic or something?”

Kinsoriel tucked his wing back to its resting position as he bared his teeth. “Do you think me so inept that I would not consider something like that!? Do you know nothing at all of magic? Of spellcraft?”

The ex-Author shrank at his words. “I… I don’t,” he said remorsefully, “but is it really not possible?”

Though still angry, Kinsoriel eased up with a grumble. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at a deathbound’s ignorance. Heed my words then.”

Benjamin nodded, curious as to what he would say. The dragon leaned back against the boulder as he began. “You aren’t entirely wrong; it is possible to mend injuries with magic. But while possible, it is difficult to do. As with all spells, you need to be able to envision what will happen in detail.” He stopped for a moment to see if Benjamin was following along before continuing. “You need to account for organs, for bone, for veins, all that is damaged. Surface injuries are the easiest of course since you can see everything you need to fix.”

Up until this point, Kinsoriel had been explaining this with a surprising level of calm. This changed as he went on, sounding more bitter. “But none of that matters here, because you can’t use it on yourself.”

Not entirely sure what he meant, Benjamin asked, “Why not?”

Kinsoriel frowned. “Because it’s excruciating. The moment it starts, you feel everything. Healing magic requires complete attention. If you lose concentration, no matter how briefly, you let loose mana that had previously been altering your body. I’ve seen some mortals try it before. It never ends well.” The imposing creature seems to shudder for a moment. The implication also manages to get a gulp out of Benjamin. “Even with my mastery of the arcane, I wouldn’t risk it.”

Disheartening as it was for Kinsoriel, perhaps this could be an opportunity. Both to get in his main character’s good graces and to reclaim some semblance of ability. “Could you teach me how to do it then? How to use magic?”

Without much delay, Kinsoriel gave a short laugh. “And why would I teach a deathbound of all things my craft? Especially you,” he stared daggers at Ben as he finished, “Why waste such a boon on some moron who’ll just forget it?”

The hostility in that last sentence was almost palpable. It was enough to choke Ben up a bit as he struggled to make his case. “I get how bad that may sound to you, but please Kinsoriel,” he clasped his hands as he made his plea, “help me to serve you better.”

Phrasing it that way seemed to pique his interest a bit. “Oh, so now you want to serve me? Whatever happened to finding your book, little author who can’t read?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Benjamin could feel his cheeks blush from embarrassment and anger. Trying not to let it get in the way, he proceeded on. “That’s still my main goal, but it will only come back to me if I help you. Imagine how useful someone who could heal you would be!”

Kinsoriel’s fiery eyes looked closely at him, seemingly deciding something a moment later with a sigh. “This is not a common occurrence, me coming to be harmed.” He idly put a hand over his side as he said this. “Even still, I see the value you propose. I don't understand how your assistance would get you your book either, but that doesn't matter. We’ll talk of this later.”

With that, Kinsoriel got himself back up and started walking. Benjamin wanted to get started immediately but didn’t say anything. Considering they were surrounded by the bodies of heroes barely an hour away from a city, it was wise not to linger anyway. If these many had managed to give the dragon trouble, he didn't want to think about what would happen with an larger force.

They walked for a few hours, only stopping to consult the map. Looking over it, it seemed he wouldn’t need any help reading the words again. Thankfully, that re-learning seemed to stick. The ones he had been taught felt natural to him, put back into their rightful place in his mind. This would certainly help him not get on the scaly grumps’ nerves.

But of course, there just couldn’t be an upside without any strings attached. During this time, Ben first experienced yet another symptom of his insertion into the story; fatigue. He didn’t notice it on the trip to the city or back, but it certainly made itself known now. Exhaustion pummeled his muscles with each and every step, commanding that he stop. Pushing through it was getting harder as they went on. It got to the point that he was starting to pant with dogged breaths.

Kinsoriel seemed to notice this as well, giving a disappointed look. “Tired already? The sun hasn’t even set yet!” Benjamin would have said something to the effects of ‘We can keep going, I just need a break’, but his lungs refused to waste any air.

Rolling his eyes, Kinsoriel laid himself down, pointing to the ground in front of him. “Sit.” Benjamin didn’t need to be told twice, his knees almost buckling as he sat himself down.

The dragon just observed him for a second with half-lidded eyes, exhaling heavily as he put up a finger. “Pocket,” he said as he moved his finger horizontally. A black void followed its path, opening up like a zipper. Once he finished, he thrust a hand into the magical hole. When he pulled it back out, it held a book. He smiled warmly when he first looked at it, short as it was, before taking on a serious expression.

“I’ve made up my mind, little author. I’ll be teaching you.” He looked down at Ben. “But only if you agree to my demands.”

Ben, still catching his breath, asked, “What do you want?”

With a smug and satisfied look, Kinsoriel began rattling off his list. “You will do as I say, when I say, how I say. You will address me first as master or teacher, though lord is also acceptable. You will not question my teaching methods. And you will pass any tests I may have to show my efforts are not wasted.” He crossed his arms and reverted to his serious demeanor. “Will you agree and abide by these demands, in exchange for my tutelage?”

While not completely coherent, Ben didn’t see any issue with those terms. Sure they could prove to be grating, but that’s a minor thing. Long-term thinking was what would get him out of this mess, and this would be a means to that end. Getting some level of control back was worth feeding into his protagonist's ego for a while.

“I,” Benjamin started in between breaths, “will agree, and abide.” Kinsoriel raised a brow and tilted his head up, as if waiting for something else. What else could he want? Oh, wait. “Master Kinsoriel,” Benjamin added after the fact.

That appeared to be the correct move, garnering a look of acceptance from the dragon. “Then from this day forward, I shall mold you into the perfect servant.” He tapped the cover of his book with a claw twice. “And we start that now.” Something about being called a servant by his own creation rubbed Ben the wrong way, but it’s not like it changed anything.

Kinsoriel asked him to come read with him from the book he held. Once he could see the cover of it, he couldn’t help but grin. It was ‘Spellcraft for Wyrmlings’. While he didn’t remember a lick of what it contained, he knew that it held great value to his character. Maybe he was okay with sharing it because he assumed Ben wouldn’t know of its significance, but that didn’t change the act. If he could get more like this out of him, a full arc wouldn’t be out of reach.

Once at his side, he realized that the book was a bit… out of his demographic. It featured cartoony images and used what appeared to be simple sentences. It resembled that kiddie pamphlet in many ways actually.

“I understand this may be a bit much for a deathbound,” his new teacher remarked from above him, “but we will have to make due.” While being considered below the level of a child stabbed at his pride, he couldn’t deny that he technically was. He’d need to rebuild his vocabulary, and what better way than something like this? Well, there were probably plenty of ways, but he’d already agreed to not question his master’s methods.

Before he could ask which words were which, they were interrupted by a growling coming from the bushes in front of them.