Chapter 438: The Heroes' Paths are Not the Same

“—and then I came here, and you punched me in the face,” the Fool finished his tale. “And that’s it. That’s the whole story, and I swear I’d rather box a behemoth than tell it again.”

‘Father…you cannot punch a behemoth. It would squash you, unless I protected you.’ His golem’s voice echoed in his mind.

‘Figure of speech, Claygon,’ Alex thought. ‘Figure of speech.’

“Aye, s’long story in truth.” Cedric hovered in midair with his arms and legs crossed, Drestra’s flight spell levitating him several feet above the snow. As a group, they’d relocated and were now further away from the castle floating above the ground behind a large hill. Alex told his tale to Cedric and Hart, keeping their full attention. The pair were enthralled, listening quietly, their silence only broken by a loud grinding noise as the Chosen’s teeth clenched and unclenched between his jaws.

On occasion, Alex paused to ask Theresa for her perspectives on things she’d been present for, but apart from that, no one else said a word.

By the time the telling was done, it appeared to be well past midnight judging from the position of the moon, yet Alex was still wide awake and watching the Chosen again; especially any movement of his hands.

The pain from that fist connecting to his face had finally faded after a little application of Mana to Life, and he wasn’t too eager to be the audience—and subject—of a repeat performance.

“That was a long story,” Hart grunted. “I like the part where you blew up that windmill.”

“That’s what y’got out of it?” Cedric looked at the Champion, his expression utterly incredulous. “You only got a windmill blowin’ up?”

“Well, I was kinda disappointed when that Generasi noble’s granary didn’t blow up, so yeah. I was waiting for that. What’d you get out of it?”

“That I’ve been wastin’ m’bloody time, an’ spirit wit’ worry!” Cedric growled, whirling on Alex. “You bloody bastard. Y’got any idea what's been goin’ through here all these months?” He tapped his temple. “All dis bloody time, I’ve been picturin’ some poor fool—”

‘Literally, a Fool,’ Alex’s mind added unhelpfully, and he wisely chose not to voice those words.

“—dead in a cave somewhere or all swallowed up by some great, dirty Ravener-spawn an’ crapped out in a forest for the worms an’ flies t’feast on!” He snorted. “I been worryin’ about it. Feelin’ guilty sometimes. An’ there you’ve been off somewhere—alive an’ well—an’ didn’t even breathe a word t’anybody. S’bloody selfish, that’s what it is!”

“Selfish?” Theresa scoffed. “Cedric, I like you, but you’re out of your damned mind. Did you even listen to the story? Alex’s been trying to solve all of this while he was in Generasi. We all have. Even Khalik, Isolde, Thundar—who’ve got nothing to do with this—are putting in a lot of work to see the Ravener dead. And that it stays dead. How is that selfish? And look! He even came back!”

“Aye, he did, an’ then we met ‘im.” Cedric glared at Alex. “An’ what’d y’do? Y’didn’t say a bloody word. Even when we was in the damned Crymlyn an’ we learned that every bloody person under the sun's been hidin’ things or lyin’ t’us, what’d y’do? Did y’come clean wit’ it? No, y’just kept it to yourself like a bloody sneak.”

“Cedric, Cedric…” Alex said, jumping in, keeping his voice soft. The Chosen was working himself up, and they didn’t need him to lose his head and start throwing punches and agitating Claygon again. “I get it, I’d be mad if I were in your position, as I said. You’ve been worrying about the Fool being somewhere out there, dead, and now you find out I’ve been with you this whole time so you feel like all that worry was a waste.”

“Damned right, it was a bloody waste!” The Chosen snapped. “Y’know, I liked you from the first time we met back in Coille Forest. I liked both o’ yous—” His eyes scanned Theresa’s face. “—and that little sister o’ yours, Alex, an’ Brutus too. Thought you was all damned brave for facin’ down a silence spider wit’ nothin’ fancy, just a pair o’ swords an’ some magic.”

He scoffed. “Little did I bloody know, you was runnin’ off.”

“That’s not fair,” Alex said. “I got this on my shoulder—” He pointed to the Fool. “—an’...what was supposed to happen to me? Do you remember what I looked like back then? I was a skinny baker’s assistant who knew one spell. Forceball. And the Mark stopped me from casting that fast, or even very well.”

“Aye, but y’could cast it, couldn’t ya?” Cedric said. “Y’talked about learnin’ how t’compensate for the Mark’s limitations…an’...y’know, before I go any further let me just say that I think those limits are a complete load o’ shite. You’ve got me sympathies, Alex.” He shook his head. “I don’t have any way o’ knowin’ what was goin’ through Uldar’s head when he made that Mark. If what Hart said had come t’pass an’ I’d gotten the Mark o’ the Fool, I most likely woulda lost m’bloody mind by now.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Alex’s jaw hardened. Memories of some difficult days came back to him and—for a moment—he could taste that early bitterness on his tongue. “It…it was rough.”

“Aye, I imagine that it was,” the Chosen nodded, his voice a bit softer. “But the point is, y’started to figure out ways around it the very night y’got Marked. Skinny baker’s assistant or not, y’could’ve come wit’ us. I said I was gonna protect the Fool when I found found ‘em, didn’t I? Y’really trusted me that little?”

Alex’s breathing paused in surprise.

There was an emotion that had slipped into Cedric’s voice and flitted across his face—too quick for most to notice.

Hurt.

The Chosen was hurt.

And out of all the reactions Alex expected from Cedric, that was the last one.

He sighed. “Look, maybe if I knew you better back then. But, we’d just bloody met. I was on the run—terrified that some priest was gonna snatch me up and throw me to some Ravener-spawn at any moment—and then you came walking out of the woods. No offence, but you were the very last person I wanted to meet. I’m not gonna lie, I liked you too, mate. But just because I started to get around the Mark doesn’t mean I would’ve been any good in a fight. Look.”

He pressed a hand to his chest. “Back then, I would’ve been absolute dead weight on all of you—”

“That’s not true,” Theresa interrupted him, a defensive note in her voice. “We would’ve been dead in the Cave of the Traveller if it weren’t for that brain of yours, Alex.”

“Yeah, maybe, but that was a lot of luck too.” He nodded to Claygon’s fire-gems. “The Traveller’s defences saved us twice; if she didn’t have those statues in her temple, we would’ve been Silence-spider food. If it weren’t for your wits and those strong arms, we might’ve been Hive-queen food.”

‘Father…these saved you?’ Claygon pointed to his fire-gems.

‘Yeah, buddy, a part of you has been protecting all of us since before you were born,’ Alex thought. ‘And I’ll never stop being grateful.’

“Right, y’see? Y’could’ve helped us an’ we could’ve protected yous,” Cedric’s fingers left impressions on his crossed arms. “No need t’bloody run off wit’ all them secrets an’ lies. No need t’ risk your lives goin’ through that cave by your lonesomes.”

“Cedric, consider it this way,” Alex said. “Back then you wiped out an entire horde of Silence-spiders all by yourself, and that was when you’d first gotten your power. And that was against a bunch of the soldier spiders. We nearly died to a swarm of workers. Drestra’s told me about your adventures here: I would’ve either been dead meat, or one of you would’ve gotten hurt trying to protect me. If not one of you, then some of the soldiers following us. And this thing—”

He tapped his shoulder.

“—our people hate it. Have you ever read Galloway’s book on us? On the Heroes?”

Cedric frowned. “Can’t say I have. Think I remember seein’ it at the clan’s church, but never felt no reason t’read it before I got marked. Then after getting my Mark…well, what’s some dead man’s book gonna tell me about the Chosen that I wouldn’t learn in the capital or on the battlefield.”

“Well, it’s not bloody kind to people like me,” Alex’s tone was sharp. “There’s lots of talk about how wonderful the Chosen is, the wisdom and power of past Sages, the holy might of the Saint, the unstoppable force of the Champion. But me? The Fool? He basically says I’m shit. And you’ve heard how the priests talk about past Fools.”

His eyes scanned the entire group. “How would you actually react? This skinny, weak guy joins up with you in a fight for life and death. A fight for the kingdom. And all he can do is bloody bake? Sure, he can learn new things, but they don’t apply real well when the main thing you need on your side is: ‘blow up Ravener-spawn right now’. So, now you have this deadweight with you who you have to protect. Tell me, how would you really react?”

Silence hung over the group.

“I might’ve hated you,” Drestra said, with a note in her voice that was as black as pitch. “No, I definitely would have hated you. Those times were hard enough, and there’s no way I would’ve appreciated having to protect someone else while we were facing everything we had been.”

“I don’t think I would’ve cared.” Hart shrugged. “Lots of people follow a mercenary band onto a battlefield. You need cooks. You need smiths. You need stablehands. But some of those knights? The priests? A lot of them already thinking the worst about you? Yeah, I can see that not going well.”

“I would’ve protected ya,” Cedric insisted. “I said I would’ve done it when I first met yous, an’ I meant it then, and I still mean it. I’m not some fairweather friend or stupid bastard who believes all that cruel shite.”

“Yes,” Alex said, looking Cedric directly in his eyes. “I believe you. But you also said to me when we first met that, in your eyes, every Hero has a role, duty and purpose.”

“Aye, that’s so.”

“So, you would have brought me to the priests,” Alex said. “You would have protected me, sure, but I wouldn’t want to just sit on a battlefield somewhere and be protected, Cedric. I’d want to contribute to the fight, to my family, and to the world. And I couldn’t do that if you were there acting as my nursemaid while I was desperately trying not to die every fight.”

“Well, y’learned how t’fight down in that big school o’ yours, didn’t ya? If y’did it there, you could’ve done it by our side,” the Chosen’s voice dropped. His hand shot up, raking his long hair. “I woulda seen to it that y’woulda learned.”

“No, man.” Alex shook his head. “I’ve only gotten to where I am because of the people I met. Cedric, you’re a good man—and I mean that—but, no offence, you’re not Khalik. You’re not Thundar. You’re not Isolde—”

Cedric flinched at her name.

“—you’re not Vernia Jules. You’re not Baelin. You’re not Val’Rok. You’re not Kybas. You’re not Gel-Dor and Fan-Dor. You’re not Shiani. You’re not Professor Ram. You’re not Professor Mangal, Hak or Salinger. You’re not Claygon. And you’re certainly not Theresa. All of those people helped me get to where I am today, and listen; the real lie I could tell you is that I got here all on my own. It took a lot of time, a lot of resources, and a lot of people to get me to where I am. To get me to the point where I could at least keep up with all of you, in my own way.”

He made a motion like he was gripping an invisible sphere. “And without the university’s resources? We never would’ve figured out any of the dungeon cores’ secrets. We never would’ve figured out the truth behind Uldar or the church. None of it.”

“Drestra could’ve taught you more about magic,” Cedric said, though his voice had less conviction.

“No.” The Sage shook her head. “I’ve had enough asked of me. You wanted me to play teacher too, on the battlefield? No. No! I would have flown back to the Crymlyn and burned anyone that stepped foot in it after me.”

Another silence took the group.

“...Aye, a lot’s been asked o’you already,” Cedric grunted. “I still think we might’ve been better off if’n y’were at our side. Look, y’say you woulda been dead weight but the three of us get along a lot better wit’ you about. Maybe things would’ve been easier before…but, then again, maybe not.”

His nostrils flared, revealing misting breath. “Y’know, when this thing appeared on me chest.” He tapped the symbol of the Chosen. “I thought it was the best day of m’life. I actually did a jig. I screamed so loud it brought da out from the smithy t’see if I’d been mauled by a bear or somethin’.”

He chuckled at the distant memory. “Everyone in the clan was all a roarin’ an’ laughin’. Kegs o’ale got tapped. Heaps o’food was brung out.” He laughed even harder, tapping the morphic weapon that had shaped itself into a gauntlet on his arm. “The clan leaders even granted me Mì-chumadh—the most prized weapon in all the clan—and sent me off to do the ancestors proud. And that’s what I set out to do too.”

His smile faded, and he looked at Alex. “Might be that I imagined it was the same fer all of us. Same for you…an’ if it wasn’t, I thought I could make it that way.”

“And that’s why you’re the perfect person to get the Mark of the Chosen, Cedric,” Alex said. “Listen, I’m telling the truth when I say that there’s no person I’ve ever met from Thameland that I’d rather have that Mark than you. But this?” He tapped his own Mark. “You alone couldn’t make this better for me, or make the me from back then fit better with all of you. I needed to do that in my own way and take care of my family while doing it. I get your anger, man. I get your hurt. You wanted to do right by everyone and I kept this a secret from you. Makes you wonder who to believe. But that’s the thing, Cedric.”

Alex spread his hands. “You might have broad shoulders, friend, but they’re not going to carry the whole world. And they shouldn’t have to.”

“…Aye, maybe you’re right…ah shite, now I feel like a complete ass for punchin’ ya, sorry about that, man,” the Chosen apologised.

“Well, I’m sorry we couldn’t have this talk sooner,” Alex said. “We’ve had it now, though. And it didn’t come out in some stupid misunderstanding that would’ve seen us try to kill each other.”

“Claygon tried to kill me.”

“And he’s sorry about that.”

‘I am not, father.’

‘We’ll talk later, Claygon,’ Alex thought.

“Well, now that all of our cards are on the table,” Hart cut in. “Are we all good with each other?”

“Aye, I am. An’...glad that we’re all together.” The Chosen grinned, revealing his gold tooth.

Hart stared at the tooth for a moment, then at Cedric’s hair, then shuddered and looked away.

“I am too,” Alex said. “And now…I think we should take the next step.”

“Oh? An’ what’s that?” Cedric asked.

“Me and Baelin go kill Ezaliel and find out what’s happening with the Traveller,” Alex said. “You all try to catch one of those…clawed creatures and find out what the hell’s going on with our church.”