Chapter 429: The Exploring of Change and a New Battle Brewing

Claygon had always been beautiful to Alex. A terror to be sure, but a beautiful terror, much like Theresa was. Every inch of the golem’s finely sculpted clay had always reminded Alex of the hours of love and care he and Selina had poured into crafting his body.

Claygon’s new frame had the same shape and height, the same bulk, the same ferocity to his face, but the details were finer. After untold hours sculpting, Alex remembered him and Selina admiring all the intricate images of battles, and monsters, of warriors and more, that they’d sculpted into his clay surface with a sense of awe. It was like watching a piece of art ready to come to life. Now, when the light struck him since his transformation from clay to polished marble, the carvings seemed like they were in motion.

The marble gleamed in the light of fire magics, and—like Theresa’s swords—appeared to emit its own inner glow. The chamber was reflected in Claygon’s polished surface, shadows and light dancing across the marble.

Beyond the surface; a staggering level of power unfolded like an ocean wave, far beyond anything Alex had ever felt from him. The connections between his golem gore and fire-gems had strengthened, widening so a far greater flow of power reached them.

‘No wonder they fired so fast,’ Alex thought, looking at the gem. ‘Those expanded pathways must flood them with power…and…”

He reached up and touched the fire-gem in Claygon’s right palm, flinching slightly in surprise.

Warm.

It was warm to the touch even at rest. He ran his finger along the gem’s surface, feeling its smooth, shining facets. A strange sensation of warmth travelled through the tips of his fingers …different from the warmth of magic spells or heat radiating from flame. There was another sort of warmth there, seeping into the link between Alex and his golem.

It gave the young wizard the feeling of being wrapped in a thick blanket on a cold winter’s day, and—

He paused.

‘It’s not just the fire-gems,’ he thought, touching the gauntlet he and Selina had sculpted on Claygon’s hand. ‘His whole body’s warm now…warm marble. Like he’s alive.’

Alex closed his eyes, reaching out to Claygon with his mana senses…and he felt a pulse. The mana coursing through his golem had always flowed like a river: powerful, but without life. Now, the flood of mana rushed through him like an ocean's shifting tides, or the rise and fall of the wind with the pulse of a beating heart.

And…

‘There’s something about his mana that’s changed,’ he thought, examining each thick finger. ‘There’s more of it, and it’s denser but…’

“Is he alright?” Theresa asked, concern marking her face. “He’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s better than ever.” Alex patted Claygon’s hand. “At least, I think so. It’s just that he’s changed just as much on the inside as on the outside.”

“Really?” Prince Khalik looked fondly at the golem. “Truly, he’s become quite the handsome devil.”

“They grow up so fast.” Thundar mimed wiping a tear from his eye. “Next thing you know he’ll be asking to borrow your fine cloak and be bringing lady golems home to meat papa.”

“Lady Golems? That is utter nonsense.” Isolde looked at Thundar.

The minotaur shrugged. “I’ve seen golems sculpted to look like men, women, cats, dogs, or whatever in the city.”

“And golems do not require biological reproduction,” Isolde fired back.

Thundar’s hooves literally dug into the stone. “But some golems have minds, don’t they?” He nodded to Claygon. “Alex, does Claygon have a mind yet?”

The young wizard looked at his golem closely, closing his eyes again. He gently prodded at the bond between him and Claygon, feeling its magical contours and the pulse of power emanating from the other end.

He searched for consciousness on the other side of their bond, and what he found…was strange. Much like his body and the power coursing through him, something had also changed in their bond. It felt stronger and Claygon’s presence was…different.

“I don’t know…” Alex said. “He feels different through our bond, but it doesn’t quite feel like those times his mind sparked.”

“Is he talking to you?” The minotaur looked Claygon up and down like he was expecting him to start doing something.

“No.” Alex tapped his arm. “But something’s definitely changed.”

“You hear that, Isolde?” Thundar grinned at the noblewoman. “Something’s changed! And that might mean he’s got more feelings. He wants companionship.”

Isolde stared at him.

“What, you saying our brave and mighty friend doesn’t deserve companionship?” Thundar gawked at her as though she’d declared that all children should be thrown into cauldrons.

“For shame, Isolde,” Prince Khalik jumped in, his grin weak but wide. “To deny Claygon the very essence of what makes a living thing living: the warmth of others.”

“That is not what the definition of a ‘living thing’ is, Khalik and you know it,” Isolde snapped.

“Aaaaah, do you lack all poetry in your soul, Lady von Anmut?” the prince cocked his head at her. “This is not about biological needs or the tyranny of nature and destiny dictating our path. Surely, a golem with a mind, such as you and I possess, can form bonds and make friends. Or do you simply treat Claygon as no more than a tool, like the sickle or pickaxe?”

“Khalik!” Isolde snapped. “You have been having entirely too much fun at my expense lately. You know what I am speaking of! I am not denying the emotional needs and desires of sapient beings—be they biological or not—I am simply saying that assuming that such affections will manifest in biological reproductive pair bonds is absurd! Far more likely that such a bond would manifest as familial for that is how we—especially Alex and Selina—treat him! As both family and friend!”

“You’re ruining the joke, Isolde,” Thundar whispered.

“I am too tired to appreciate being the butt of such jokes at this particular moment.” Her tone was acid.

“It is true, it is true,” Khalik said. “Though keep in mind that I am your match when it comes to exhaustion, so—in a sense—there is no advantage on my part. We are simply two weary people having a good time, are we not?”

Isolde pointedly ignored him, looking up at the golem. “Listen, Claygon, my dear. Do not engage in such worthlessness as taking on these three as examples. In some sense, you will no doubt take after your father somewhat—” She glanced toward Alex. “—but at least we might be able to narrow the field of bad influences on you—“

“Hey wait, wait, wait!” Alex straightened up in offence. “I literally said nothing wrong! You’re victimising me!”

“Oh, please, Roth.” Her blue eyes were like ice. “You have been there, grinning like the cat who got the cream and stifling a hyena’s laughter the entire time. I could feel the malice emanating from you as surely as Claygon feels your thoughts through your link!”

“Thaaat would not be admissible during a tribunal!” Alex cried. “You can’t just say: listen, I think that man over there’s thinking bad things! Trust me, I’d know…I got a feeling about it!”

“We are not in a tribunal. This state around us—” She began.

Theresa stiffened, looking over her shoulder. Murmurs went through the room.

“Uh, Isolde,” the huntress said.

“—is a post-war state which often involves a degree of anarchy—” the noblewoman continued.

“Isolde,” Theresa said more urgently.

Alex followed her gaze, sitting up straighter as he did.

Murmurs swept through the entrance hall.

“Isolde,” Theresa hissed.

“—in a moment, Theresa, for I—”

“Aaaaah, welcome back young Heroes of Thameland,” Baelin’s warm voice boomed through the entrance hall. “I trust that your hunt went well?”

“Aye, it did,” Cedric replied. “There was more Ravener-spawn in them tunnels, but we wiped ‘em all out t’ the last.”

Isolde let out a tiny yelp, unconsciously fixing her raven black hair.

Prince Khalik’s eyes twinkled.

He looked at Thundar.

His words came out in a whisper: “Biological reproductive pair bonds.”

Isolde turned bright red as Thundar, Theresa and Alex bit down rolling laughter.

“Shut. Up!” She hissed.

If anyone noted the group’s exchange, none said a word. Their eyes were locked on the two figures following the Heroes. Gwyllain padded into the room like a nervous cat stepping out of a barn and into the farmer’s waiting dog pack. His large eyes darted every which way, growing wider at each wizard, familiar and monster, they landed on.

He didn’t say a single word when he spotted Alex, though he did flinch in recognition, then did a double take when he saw Claygon’s new form, quickly turning away. His attention went to the other fae—or so Alex assumed—walking beside him.

It was this figure who drew the most attention.

And it was obvious why.

At first glance, the blue-skinned fellow looked like nothing more than a jolly, dwarven-like fae with a stark white beard and blue skin. But…his body language raised a primal fear in Alex’s core; the sort of fear that took hold of a mouse the moment it caught a snake’s eye.

That instinctual terror on seeing its natural predator.

His true nature was hidden well: the fae had mastered his body language so well, that his guise was nearly perfect. Alex watched him intently, using the Mark, looking for subtleties and masked cues. The slight cracks in his persona were there in the jolly, harmless mask he hid his true nature behind: the perfect balance of weight on the balls of the feet, his eyes slowly scanning the room and how they lingered on the wounded—briefly, hungrily—before moving on. There was something chilling about this fae, and—

‘Oh, by the Traveller, he’s looking this way!’ Alex thought.

The fae’s eyes turned to him—as though sensing his gaze—and they focused with the stillness of an owl regarding a rodent. Alex quickly adjusted his body language: relaxed shoulders, levelled gaze, straight back. He showed no fear, only casual interest: nothing challenging, but nothing to encourage a predator to do what predator’s do.

A smile crossed the fae’s blue lips—one that didn’t reach his eyes—and in a flash, his attention was elsewhere. That smile quickly faded when he looked up at Baelin. The ancient wizard’s goat-like eyes met those of the stocky fae.

They held for a moment.

The fae was first to break contact.

“Pleasure to meet you all,” he said, his tone whimsical and light. “I’m called The Guide: guide to the Heroes of Thameland, and one of the road wardens sworn to Lord Aenflynn.”

Professor Jules watched the blue-skinned fae closely, her body language showing gratitude, but screaming and distrust. Her feet drifted closer together and her arms crossed before her.

Baelin stood tall, every muscle relaxed as he bent to shake the stocky fae’s hand. “The pleasure is mine. I am Chancellor Baelin and your assistance was most appreciated.”

His words were carefully chosen, showing appreciation, but nothing that could be twisted into a declaration, oath or debt.

If the Guide noticed, he gave no hint of it, instead, he gestured toward the asrai at his side. “Twas Gwyllain here that warned me and got us to come to your aid,” he said, “and so appreciation should be given to he as well as me.”

“And it is appreciated.” The chancellor said to the nervous little asrai. “This is a time of planning and grieving, but I would be remiss if I did not show you hospitality. Walk with me, I will see you fed and we will speak.” He looked at the Heroes. “All of us.”

“Aye, we should talk,” Cedric said. “Folk’re sayin’ there was new monsters among them that attacked here?”

“Could they be something the demon worshippers conjured up?” Hart tapped an axe resting on his belt, one he’d taken from Zonon-In’s war camp. “Your people were describing them, and giving us a pretty good idea of what they looked like, but we’ve never seen their like before.”

“Unfortunately, there’s not much data to go on,” Professor Jules said. “We’re examining the scant remains we do have, but it's far too early to make any conclusions. Still, it would be good to compare notes. And…” She paused, seeming to notice something, but moved on quickly. “…and figure all of this out.”

Her brow furrowed, and her body shook. Signs of discomfort washed over her in waves. “People died today. Too many. Far too many. We need a response. One that’s measured.”

“Yet crushing,” Baelin said. “Our enemies are multiplying. Moving. Growing bold. It is time that some of them be culled.”

A cheer swept through the room at his words, a cry of grief, and a hunger for vengeance. It spread, sweeping Alex and his friends up.

Fists, weapons, and staffs rose high.

As the young wizard raised his arm in solidarity, he looked to his golem, appreciating his new-found power and wondering what secrets might be hidden in his transformed body.

His eyes fell on the war-spear.

‘Your war-spear suits you better than it did that demon, Claygon, and if she wants to come claim it, we’ll take care of her, Ezaliel and all their demon allies,’ he thought. ‘They’re going to pay for all the people they killed or hurt, and we’re going to take more of their stuff to help us. Then when we find out what the Traveller’s secrets are, we’re going to break the Ravener forever. Sound good?’

There was a pulse across the bond.

Alex held his breath.

He waited for another spark of thought, but nothing came.

‘Hmmm, maybe you’ll start with your feelings first, and thoughts later…oh, right! Speaking of feelings, the aeld tree helped us. I should thank it.’

As he excused himself from his friends to step into the cold night air, Alex focused on Claygon and the aeld, his thoughts and attention turned from the Heroes as Baelin led them deeper into the castle.

And, so he missed Drestra’s lingering gaze.

He missed the Sage’s reptilian eyes, watching his every move.

Her look was questioning.

Measuring.

And girding for a confrontation.