Chapter 60: His Own Mage

Much like the previous day, Hima wiled away the rest of the hours in bed, waking up sporadically to drink Daimir’ concoction and to eat whatever she could keep down – mostly bread and some boiled oats. Nydra paid the old couple as much as they were willing to take, and feeling that they still owed a debt, had Peteri and Miro help out in tilling some of the fields further away from the ones rendered barren by the black stream.

“We appreciate the help,” Olbav said when she brought that afternoon’s lunch, “But it’s only going to spread, and after a year, your efforts will be in vain.”

“A year is more than we need to bring this to the attention of the King. By then, someone will properly look into what’s happening here,” Nydra said without taking a break and Olbav, sensing the futility of argument, did not bring it up again.

Miro could tell that the swordswoman was anxious to get moving and make up for lost time, but that she also accepted how much Hima needed the rest, and used the work to distract herself. Unfortunately for Miro, that work also included additional training sessions with the sword that invariably left him bruised, wheezing and drenched in sweat. Between the combat training and the farming work, was the most exhausted he’d been since starting this journey.

Around dinnertime, Hima had an extended period of wakefulness, so he came to visit her when there was no one else in the room.

“How are you doing?”

“Annoyed, mostly,” Hima answered.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Miro had already suspected that ‘I don’t know’ were the hardest words for Hima to say and the icewinder was essentially experiencing the physical embodiment of that same feeling. Everything about Hima’s expression seemed to protest this condition and how it made others look at her. “So, I wanted to ask you something,” Miro continued. “I still have my two skill points available since yesterday.”

“You mean you’ve been walking around with that message displayed this entire time?” Hima asked with a bit of a chuckle that turned into a cough

“Yes, it’s … impressively irritating,” Miro said, glancing at the message that hovered, partially transparent, in front of his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you though before I committed those points.”

“You’re your own mage, Miro. What do you need me to hold your hand for?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” he said, with actual annoyance seeping into his tone, and when Hima responded with a perplexed stare, he asked, “So what kind of stupid nonsense is this? You’re still my teacher, aren’t you?”

Hima lay there in silence for a while, regarding him with a face whose eyebrows now formed a perfectly straight line. “I guess we’re still on this fool’s journey together, aren’t we?” she asked finally.

“Exactly, and until you hand-deliver me to the masters at the Akademiya, you’re all I’ve got as a teacher.”

“And you’re all I’ve got as a student,” she said and for a moment he thought she was intending to be hard on him but then he saw the shadow of a smile.

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“I’m sorry you got the short end of the stick on that bargain,” Miro said.

“Alright, alright,” Hima said impatiently as she pushed herself up on her arms to sit more upright. “I take it that you don’t want to throw both your points into Vitality. Otherwise you would have no reason to be asking me.”

“That’s right.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“One into Vitality and one into Charisma.” It looked as though Hima was about to either say something or was merely bringing her hand up to rub her eyes, but Miro continued, “Hear me out. When I was searching for the magic wielder who helped me remove my debuff, finding her had nothing to do with my fire or lightning powers. She told me the path to her temple opened for me only when I was able to let go of overthinking and acted true to who I was. Whatever I actually might be, or whatever you might think of that person, that’s just who I am – the kid who grew up not worrying about Strength or Dexterity or even Intellect. I had thrown it all into Charisma, because that’s what maybe would, at the end of the day, save me from a whooping by my guardian or occasionally from doing extra chores or from getting beat on by the other village boys. Obviously, I still want to improve my skills as a mage, but I want to do it while still being me, which means growing that part of me as I go along.”

Miro thought Hima would at least take some time to deliberate on this but then without pause she said, “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Alright.” She shrugged. “You managed to find someone I wasn’t sure existed and do something I wasn’t sure could be done. I think we’ve at least firmly established that you’re not entirely useless.”

“Woah, let’s slow down there, you don’t want me getting a fat head or anything.”

“Please just hurry up before I change my mind.”

He laughed and went ahead, assigning his two skill points and finally clearing the message out of his vision. Now that he was done, he could admire his new stat lines:

MIRO KALDOUN

Level 8 Mage

Strength: 3

Dexterity: 2

Vitality: 7

Intelligence: 2

Charisma: 5

Spells: Incinerate level 1 (cost: 0.5), Lesser Fireball level 2 (cost: 3.5), Lightning Bolt level 1 (cost: 1)

Maximum Mana: 46

Mana regen: 9 per hour

He could not at first put his finger on why he found the information so unusual, to the point that it unsettled him, but then he realized that what had been missing was the final line, the debuff line, and the emptiness it left behind was both a relief and a sorrow. Hima had no way of knowing any of this, as she interrupted by asking, “How does it look?”

He hadn’t really paid any attention to his other stats, so it took him a few startled blinks to answer, “Forty-six total mana with a regen of nine per hour.”

“So that’s a full volley of thirteen fireballs and you get back almost three per hour.” Miro’s own mental calculations were still only at “between ten and twenty” when Hima gave him the final number.

“At least it sounds like I won’t be getting eaten by a bear any time soon,” Miro said.

“With any luck,” she said with a tired smile and Miro thought he ought to leave and give her some space when she said, “Miro? What was she like?”

“Who?” he asked, not sure if he’d heard right.

“The woman in the temple.”

“Oh.” it wasn’t a question he’d been expecting. “Well, I’d say the one word that comes to mind is ‘kind’.” He thought he would have left it at that, but Hima said nothing, and for the first time since they’ve known each other seemed to hang on his every word, so he continued. “It’s almost like she was glowing with it, this radiating source of kindness. There was also something deeply ancient about her, but … not her age? She had somehow managed to contain in herself both a great energy and a great wisdom. I don’t really know how to describe it. Some parts of the temple felt like a dream, and sometimes I think the whole thing might have been in my head.” There was a look in Hima’s eyes that Miro could not understand – looking into the distance with a mixture of hope and sorrow. “Why are you so interested in her?”

That seemed to have brought Hima back, and she was not happy about it. “I don’t need a reason,” she said sharply, and then, more calmly, “I’m a scholar, these things interest me.”

“Okay,” Miro said, not sure what he’d done so even less sure how to get out of it.

“Maybe you should just let me rest,” Hima suggested.

“Sure,” Miro said and backed up towards the door, “Have a good rest.”

She looked up at him, eyes annoyed underneath her dark brows, and gave a quick shrug, and Miro did not bother her for the rest of the day.