Chapter 440: Operation 'Nurturing Heroes'

“Ooooh I like the sound of that.” Hart snarled, his large eyes twinkling in anticipation. “You said you went from being a skinny baker’s boy a year ago to turning into…well, you?”

“Aye, is true, he’s bloody hard to recognise now,” Cedric said. “He went from lookin’ like a blade o’ grass to lookin’ more like a thick, bloody oak.”

“Blade of grass? Thanks. Thanks a lot,” Alex said dryly.

The Chosen ignored the snippiness in his tone. “How did you do it?”

“I used the Mark. It hinders all that pesky ability to fight, all spellcraft and divinity, but when they say it helps everythingelse, they do mean everything else. If you can learn it? The Mark will help you. So, thanks to it—and Khalik—I’ve learned how to train better, eat better, walk better…even breathe better.”

He looked at Drestra. “Baelin said that I’ve got something of a mastery over spell arrays and magic circuits, and he should know. He should be busy for the next while—going down to the hells to break some abyssal knights—”

“I still think yer completely barkin’ mad when I hear y’talking about that kinda thing.” Cedric shook his head.

“—but what I can do is get some pointers from him, and pass them on to you three. I’m a fair teacher, I’d like to think so anyway—I’ve been teaching my sister and Claygon and they’ve turned out just fine—”

Cedric gave Claygon a sceptical look.

“—and besides, even if I’m not the best teacher right now, the Mark will turn me into a great teacher in no time with a bit of practice. And that’s not all I can contribute.”

Alex reached into his satchel, pulling out the spell-guide for greater force armour. Drestra’s eyes shot to the book, burning with interest. “Is that a spell-guide?” she asked, her excitement was clear.

“You got that right,” he said. “The university’s library has more of these than Crymlyn Swamp’s got fish. Or…well, maybe not that many, but you get my point.” He looked between her and Cedric. “You want spells? You’ve come to the right wizard. I can show you mana regeneration techniques that’ll let you fight longer and harder.”

“And as for you, Hart, teaching you more fighting techniques probably won’t help you much—you’ve got dozens of generations of the finest Thameish warriors right in your Mark—but with a little blood magic, some training and a little time, I might be able to bring your body up to a new level of power.”

“Well, I like the sound of that,” Hart beamed.

“The only problem is that…it’s completely experimental.” Alex grimaced. “I made it work for myself because I know my own body really well. But, for other people…well, I’d have to use some guesswork which’d be a bit more dangerous.”

“Define dangerous.” Hart raised an eyebrow.

“Well.” Alex scratched his hair. “If I get it wrong I could mess up your life force or do some serious damage to your body.”

“What if I’m there t’heal ’im?” Cedric raised his hand. “Would that make things a tad safer?”

“I…” Alex paused, blinking. “Hell, why didn’t I think of that? Yeah, if you used your divinity to fix any damage I did mucking about, then I’d have a lot more room for trial and error. But, still…” He looked at Hart. “Listen, no offence to you, but this isn’t something I’ve tried with my closest friends for a reason. Even if Cedric’s there to stop any permanent damage, we could be talking about a lot of pain here.”

Hart shrugged. “A little pain for me means a lot of pain for Ravener-spawn.”

“Right and true,” Alex grinned. “Well, if you’re fine with it.”

“We can also see if any of you are compatible with life enforcement,” Theresa suggested. “It’s where a lot of my power comes from. And if it works for any of you then, by the Traveller, you’d be monsters.”

“Hah! I like the sound of that too,” Hart chuckled. “This is a much better way to use you, Mr. Fool. Have you in the backline, feeding us info, skills and resources. Like a proper quartermaster. Gotta wonder why the kingdom doesn’t use you like that. Well, I guess where you are has a hell of a lot more resources than even the capital’s got.”

“Mmmm, true…but as for why Fools are used the way they are…” He looked up at the sky. “Well, let’s just say that—if we do manage to meet Uldar—I’ll have my own questions for him.”

“I’d drink t’that, brother,” Cedric paused as if deep in thought for a moment. “Well, I like this plan. An’ we can use the fae roads t’get back ‘ere quick when we need ta. Then y’give us a lesson, an’ we can be back in the fight in a day or so. Aye, this is really comin’ together.”

“The Ravener might be escalating,” Drestra’s voice crackled. “But so will we.”

“Aye, the Heroes are united…well, almost,” Cedric grunted. “Wish there was a way t’bring in Merzhin.”

“Hmmmm,” Alex scratched his chin in thought. “I get that. I kinda want to as well. I don’t know him, but he’s been branded the same as us. And he’s very powerful, from what you say, so I’d rather him with us, than against us. What we could do is get ourselves ready to fight. Get stronger and informed. Get ourselves ready to act. Then…”

He snapped his fingers. “...you can tell him if you still want to, and if we do this right—even if he goes against us—it’ll be too late for him to stop us. We just—or, you, actually—have to tell him when the time is right. When we can put him aside, or put him down if he tries to stop us.”

Cedric grimaced. “That’s…s’a real nasty way o’ puttin’ things. Real nasty. Underhanded, even. Don’t sit right wit’ me, really…but bloody hell, just walkin’ up to ‘im and tellin’ ‘im now’d be bloody stupid. It don’t make me feel comfortable, but it ain’t really about me, is it?”

His eyes took on a melancholy cast as they took in the cold, empty moors. “S ‘about the land, the people, gettin’ rid o’ the Ravener once an’ fer all so people can live here in Thameland wit’out great, dirty monsters showin’ up lookin’ t’ kill everyone every hundred years.”

“So we can live free,” Drestra said with heat. “So we can live for ourselves.”

“So no one has to go through what we’ve been through ever again,” Alex added.

Silence followed.

The other three Heroes looked at Hart.

And the big man shrugged. “What? You expect me to say something fancy? I just wanna kill the monsters, get rich and then maybe do something fun with that Tyris friend of yours.”

“Hell, that’s as good a reason as any,” Alex said. “I’ll talk to Baelin, and we’ll get ourselves ready to wipe out all these bastards. Together.”

“Aye, together,” Cedric agreed.

“That went well,” Theresa whispered over Claygon’s heavy footsteps echoing through the halls. She looked up at the golem. “Except for the part where you tried to kill Cedric…but to be fair, I wanted to punch him too.”

‘Punching…would not end the threat as quickly. But…good,’ Claygon said in approval.

Alex sighed. “Claygon says that’s good, and that he wanted to use a more permanent solution. Claygon, we really do have to talk about that.”

“I will…listen, father,” his golem said.

“Good,” Alex said, turning to Theresa. “And yeah, I’m not in chains. They didn’t beat me unconscious. All in all, it went well. Now, I just have to tell Baelin what I might’ve, sort of volunteered him for and—if he doesn’t reduce me to a pile of ashes—then I’ll call it a win. A little punch is an easy price to pay.”

‘If he tries to turn you to ash…I will fight him. Run while I sacrifice my—’

“No, Claygon, no sacrifices,” he said. “Especially not futile ones. We really do need to talk when we get back to Generasi. I’d do it now, but, by the Traveller, this has been a long day.”

The wee hours of the morning had come to the Research Castle, and the halls were still. A deep silence had descended, only broken by the occasional clack of a Watcher’s staff tapping along the stones; their patrols were thick in the halls, but there wasn’t another soul stirring.

All seemed to have finally turned in, even Alex’s companions were absent from the dining hall when he, Theresa, Claygon and the other Heroes finally made their way back to the keep.

They’d parted ways with clasped hands and good feelings, leaving Alex to track down Baelin and Professor Jules, if they were still awake.

“It’s been a long day,” Theresa yawned. “Do you think they’re still up?”

“Oh, definitely,” Alex said. “Well, at least Baelin. He might’ve told Professor Jules to go to bed, but he’ll still be up. I’m not sure if even needs sleep…Makes me wonder where he goes after he finishes his work day in his office.”

“Maybe among the stars,” Theresa said, a wistful look taking over her face. “Remember that Many-Spheres Theory Isolde talked about? The one that says each star might have their own worlds, as different from ours as we are from those elementals you summon? Maybe that’s where he goes. He can teleport anywhere, right? And I’ve never heard of him having a house in the city.”

“Yeah, I haven’t either, come to think of it. And you’d think that it’d be public knowledge…and knowing, Baelin, you probably wouldn’t miss it.”

Theresa raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, can you really imagine Baelin living in anything but an unassailable fortress of doom?” Alex said. “Unless, the unassailable fortress of doom was really a decoy and he actually lived in some obscure, cosy little cottage where his enemies couldn’t find him.”

“I could believe—” She yawned again. “—in either of those things.”

“You should go to bed, love.” Alex looked at her in concern. “You’ve been through a lot today.”

“So have you.”

“You nearly died.”

“So did you,” she insisted.

“Fair point, but let me put it this way: I have to be up for a little longer. You don’t have to be, so why would you be? That’d be madness. Go on, go to bed. I’ll be there soon.”

Theresa grumbled. “Fine…but don’t let him keep you up forever. I know that spell of yours cuts down on your sleep, but you do need some.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Alex said. “But…well, we’ll see how scheme-y he gets.”

“Really? ‘scheme-y’?”

“It’s a perfectly real word that I made real just this second.”

“Sure.” She rose up on her toes and gave him a lingering kiss. “Love you, don’t stay up too late.” She looked at Claygon. “Don’t let him stay up late.”

‘I…won’t. Will make father go to bed. Good…night.’ Claygon said.

“He says he’ll make me go to bed, and I don’t imagine I could stop him if he put his mind to it. Oh, and he wishes you a good night. And good night to you too, love. Love you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And with that, Theresa silently slipped into the darkness.

Alex and Claygon made their way up the keep’s stairs to the top floor. The double doors to Baelin’s office rose at the end of the hall with a steady stream of light escaping from beneath them.

“Good, he’s still up,” Alex whispered, looking at Claygon. “This will be your first time meeting him since you awakened. Well, I imagine he’ll be very taken with you.”

‘He cannot take me…I am my own. And yours. And Selina’s.’

“True, and I appreciate the sentiment, but again…figure of speech. And so the list of things we have to talk about grows. But, that’s a ‘later’ problem.”

Alex approached the doors, knocking on them softly.

“Vernia?” Baelin’s deep voice spoke from within. “Is that you—Ah, of course not. Alex, Claygon. I’d know those gaits anywhere. You’re up rather late. Well, please do come in.”

There was a flare of mana, and the doors swung open.