97
Amber gasped awake, shaking hard.
"Amber?"
The voice was timid…and Amber realized there was fear in the air besides hers. She sat up quickly and could feel the aura winds slowing and stopping. She glanced over and could see Dani halfway between their two beds, like she had come to wake Amber but thought better of it.
"Are you ok?" her roommate finally asked, and humiliation poured through the Oni. Why did this keep happening?! It had never happened before!
"I'm so sorry…" she managed, rubbing her face to erase the last vestiges of the nightmare. "It…it was a bad dream."
"Oh."
Amber realized suddenly that her nightmare had caused an aura storm…which means she could have hurt her roommate in her sleep without even realizing it. Suddenly Amber felt like throwing up.
"Dani…are you alright? I…I didn't mean to scare you…I just…"
"No, yeah, I'm fine."
Dani sounded kind of shaky but her usual optimism was leaking back in.
"I just was worried. I could tell you were having a nightmare, but there were these crazy winds…" she hesitated. "Does this happen a lot?"
"No. I just…it only started recently. I promise, it doesn't happen a lot."
Amber felt ready to sink down into the earth. She really was going to lose all her friends; no way Dani would want to stay in a room with someone who could hurt her in her sleep! No doubt she would be going to see Marty IV first thing in the morning to demand Amber be moved. The Oni's heart thudded. She really could hurt Dani though…maybe it would be best if she was moved. Maybe she should go see the headmaster about it herself.
Dani had approached, the aura storm gone completely. She sat on the bed and reached out to put a hand on Amber's shoulder.
"Who's Theo?"
Amber was startled from her thoughts and she looked over. She could still feel her roommate's fear…but it was overlaid with genuine concern.
"He's…Theo's my brother."
Understanding lit up in Dani's face in the dim light coming from the streetlights outside the window.
"Oh…"
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to wake you up, Dani. I didn't mean to make those winds…"
Amber's words were suddenly choked off and she realized with horror that she was crying. As if scaring Dani to death wasn't enough, now she was exposing her to a full-on breakdown. But her humiliation wasn't enough to stave off the tears.
Dani made a concerned sound and suddenly Amber felt herself wrapped up in a hug. It surprised her, because she was definitely not used to being hugged by anyone outside her own family. But in that moment Amber decided that everything was a lost cause at this point anyways and she let Dani hold her.
"You know…when my uncle was little, his home got crushed by this crazy stone giant. He and his family barely made it out in time. He's all grown up now but he still gets nightmares about it sometimes. I think it's normal to be like this, when you've been through something hard…"
"But I've…I've never been like this…" Amber argued through her tears.
"You said you almost lost your brother, Amber. Anyone would be the same way as you, honest."
They sat like that a while longer, and Amber cried while Dani surprisingly didn't say much at all. She just held on to her, and Amber could feel her concern. Maybe that's why the brunette didn't feel the need to say anything; because she knew Amber already knew how she felt.
While she cried, Amber thought about what Dani had said. What had happened at the Island had been horrible…but surely it wasn't the only horrible thing that had ever happened to her. Or was it? She realized that maybe she had lived through other times that had been just as hard, like when the Alchemist had taken them in the first place, or when they had lost Cole for those few weeks. But she was so young, she didn't remember. Even the pictures in the tunnels hadn't affected her; she had to learn about what had happened just like anyone else who hadn't even been a part of it; she didn't really have any memories of it herself. But her brother did…and she could remember plenty of instances that her brother had created his own nightmare-spurred aura storms.
Shame filled her as she realized that her entire family suffered from nightmares from their pasts, while she hadn't had the same experiences. She had recognized that before, but she had foolishly thought it was because she was a Xinta. Xinta don't get sick…xinta don't have nightmares. Xinta are stronger than average people. But it wasn't true; she wasn't exempt from losing control, or being plagued with devastatingly vivid dreams. She had just never been touched by something so horrible and so terrifying to cause them before, while the rest of her family had plenty of such experiences to pull from. It made her feel small, realizing now that the rest of them had dealt with it with minimal complaints, and now here she was torn apart by it.
Her tears finally came to an end and she exhaled shakily.
"I'm sorry, Dani. I'm sorry for all of this. In the morning we can go talk to the Headmaster and get me moved out of here…"
"You want to leave?"
Amber looked over at her roommate, feeling her hurt.
"It's not fair to you! I don't have these nightmares often but it's not fair to you for me to keep you from sleeping…to scare you…"
She almost pointed out that she could have hurt her…but she thought better of it. Dani's expression hardened.
"Hey, you can't just distant yourself because you're going through something hard. That's when you need people the most! I mean, if I had horrible nightmares I'd like to think that you wouldn't bail on me because of them!"
"Of course not; but your nightmares don't have the same side effects."
Dani waved a nonchalant hand.
"It was just wind, Amber. It wasn't even strong enough to pull Reggie Blue off my walls."
She gestured to her posters as if they were the perfect proof to convincing Amber to stay. Amber felt mixed feelings about it; she felt like she needed to go through with trying to get a new private room, to make sure that her roommate stayed safe. But she was also having doubts about any conversations with Marty IV. She doubted that he would understand the reasoning behind her asking for a private room…could she really expect him to listen to her? And even if he did listen to her, her reasoning was basically that it wasn't safe for other people to be in the same room with her; an argument that she doubted would go over well.
"C'mon, Amber…we'll go back to bed and you'll feel better in the morning."
She still felt conflicted.
"But…"
"It's fine, really; it's not your fault you're having nightmares! You can't help that! Besides, I'm never going to hear the end of it if I chase away my one and only roommate."
Amber smiled a little at that.
"You wouldn't be chasing me away…"
"Just say you'll stay, ok? Otherwise I'm going to keep you up all night trying to convince you!"
Her roommate was once again genuine, and Amber's smile grew a little despite her reservations.
"Alright. But…if this keeps happening…"
"We'll take you to talk to the school counselor," Dani cut in nonchalantly. "That's what you need, Amber…more of a chance to talk about what happened, not an excuse to cut yourself off from everyone."
Amber wasn't about to talk to the school counselor about her problems, but Dani's advice stuck with her, long after her roommate had fallen back asleep.
Myrah knocked, listening for the usual response. There was a moan and she frowned and pushed her way into the room.
"Heavy Metal?"
His eyes were closed, and as she headed over she noticed that he seemed to be struggling to breathe, his skin looking grey. She clenched her jaw and touched his shoulder.
"Sir?"
He seemed unresponsive and her gaze slid over to the table where the medicinal tea bags were sitting. She had been visiting every day to make sure that he had been drinking the tea, but she had no idea if he had drunk any this morning. Myrah's heart started pounding; was he going downhill now? How much longer did he have?
Her advisors thought it strange that she had taken it upon herself to monitor his health; Bula had tried to convince her several times to assign such responsibilities to a servant and be done with it altogether. Heavy Metal was no longer the leader, her chief advisor pointed out. There was no point in wasting the new leader's time checking up on him.
Myrah went over to the tea bags; if she could get him to drink it, it could subdue the pain during his final moments. If these were his final moments. Heavy Metal moaned again and she glanced over; how would she even be able to tell? Bula's voice was in her head, telling her to leave the room and shut the door and let whatever was going to happen, happen. But she couldn't just leave him lying there; she had no knowledge of these things. He could be in his final moments now or he could have hours of suffering left before the end. Or perhaps this wasn't even as bad as she thought; maybe Heavy Metal would fall asleep and pull through and be awake to greet her the following morning.
She set the tea bag down, her mind finally reaching a decision. She already knew her advisors wouldn't approve, Bula especially…but she was the Leader, and she was allowed to do whatever she decided was best. She left the room quickly and headed for the stables.
"Keep them closed, Tolan," Hershel ordered, and Pippa wrapped her arms around her father's head to cover his eyes with her hands.
"Yeah, Dad…that's cheating!" she insisted, and Tolan sighed.
"I wasn't peeking," he growled. His arms were out in front of him, aura balls balancing on both sides. The one on the left was larger, and Hershel noticed as much after studying them.
"They aren't even yet."
"They'd be more even if I could look at them," the guard pointed out, and Pippa giggled from where she was covering his eyes.
"The point of this exercise is to not be able to see them," Hershel said. "Aura comes from emotion. Try to make them even based on what you can feel."
Tolan muttered things under his breath, but Hershel noticed that the balls did start to even out.
"Better."
"The left one's still too big!" Pippa blurted, and Hershel shot her an irritated look. She smiled sheepishly. The aura ball in his Tolan's left hand shrunk down as a result, but then it became too small. Pippa opened her mouth to say as much, but then she remembered Hershel and her mouth snapped shut.
"Are you going to make me get them perfect before I can be done?" Tolan muttered, and Hershel smiled a little.
"Not perfect. But I would like to see more evidence that you're relying on feeling rather than sight…or sound." He said the last word with another glance in Pippa's direction, and she pulled a hand off Tolan's face to make a zipping motion across her mouth.
Hershel watched as the balls wobbled, shrinking and growing in degrees. Pippa had released her father's face, and the Healer could see Tolan's eyes were shut and he seemed to be deep in concentration. Soon the aura balls were nearly the same size. Not perfect…but much closer than he had achieved thus far.
"Good…" Hershel started, but a hoofer lowed right outside the tent and he glanced up at the doorway. Pippa turned as well and frowned.
"Who's that?"
The door opened and Hershel blinked in surprise as Myrah came in. Her presence was as strong as ever, but the look on her face was enough to tip him off that this wasn't a reading visit.
"Myrah," he said simply, and Tolan's eyes flew open. The guard turned and scowled as he caught sight of the Western Leader, but she didn't appear to see him or the aura balls now fading away in his hands.
"It's Heavy Metal," she stated woodenly. "It's…he's…"
Hershel nodded a quick understanding and grabbed his satchel. He moved quickly, stuffing a few items inside.
"How does he look?" he asked, while Tolan and Pippa watched from their place by the fireplace.
Something flickered across Myrah's stony expression.
"Grey," she admitted. "Grey…and frail…"
"He's in pain?" Hershel guessed softly, and she nodded again.
"Moaning, but unresponsive."
Hershel seemed to be thinking and finally sighed.
"Probably not a lot of time left…"
He headed for the doorway and Pippa blinked.
"Uncle Hershel, where you going?"
"I'll be back tonight," he said, but he barely glanced at her. The child frowned in confusion, and behind her Tolan's eyes flicked between the Healer and the Leader as they headed out the door.
"Where's your hoofer?" Myrah asked, and Hershel noted the almost desperate note in her tone. "We need to get there sooner rather than later…I don't want him in pain any longer than he has to be."
Hershel nodded his understanding, but he seemed to be heading to the wilderness bordering the side of the tent.
"My sister has Tolan's hoofer today; that's the one I usually use…"
"Then we'll both have to ride mine," Myrah said, her brow furrowing. "You should have gotten yourself one by now; they aren't meant to carry two riders…at least, not very quickly."
"There's a faster way."
Hershel seemed to be debating, and he finally looked over at her.
"You can come with me or you can meet me there," he explained, and Myrah dropped her hoofer's reigns so she could come over to stand next to him.
"What are you talking about? There isn't anything faster than a Hoofer, unless you've got a dragon! And we're wasting time."
Hershel was quiet for a few moments longer.
"You want to get there now?"
Her stony mask had been replaced by confusion as she studied him.
"If it's possible," she finally agreed. He nodded and then she watched as he closed his eyes. Suddenly, Aura winds began whipping up around them, and Myrah turned in shock. She seemed to realize that he meant to use his powers, and she swallowed hard.
"I…" she started, but then Hershel reached out and grabbed her wrist with his hand, his eyes still closed, and she jumped in surprise. The winds became stronger, and suddenly there was a flash.
98
Myrah's eyes flew open, and she felt disoriented and sick. It was the same feeling when someone wakes up and they didn't know they were sleeping, but mixed with dizziness. It took her a few seconds to orient herself, and she felt someone release her arm. Her eyes finally focused and she realized that she recognized the room.
"The library," she said, her words sounding too loud in her head. "How…when did we get here?"
She remembered then, going to the Master Healer's and the spell he had cast. She looked and found him, heading for the exit.
"What did you do?!" she accused, and he turned and raised an eyebrow.
"It's called an aura transport," he explained softly, and she glared.
"How dare you…"
"You said Heavy Metal's state was bad; if you wanted to be back in time to make a difference, then we needed to get here sooner rather than later."
Myrah's mind felt full of cotton, and as she tried to walk towards Master Hershel, her steps were unsteady. She grimaced at the nausea and shook her head.
"You had no right to do that to me," she argued. The Master Healer paused and reached for something in his satchel. She finally managed to reach him and he turned and handed her some kind of soft leaf.
"Chew this; it will help with the nausea," he instructed softly, and she glared at him as he headed off down the hallway…presumably to Heavy Metal's quarters. After a moment she grudgingly put the leaf in her mouth as he instructed and chewed in the whole way to the retired leader's room.
She couldn't get there quite as quickly as the Healer could, due to her dizziness, but the nausea had gone down by the time she pushed the door open. She found Master Hershel sitting next to the bed, frowning as he took the scarred man's pulse. He glanced up as she came in.
"It's hard to know for sure…but I don't think he'll bounce back from here," he admitted softly. Myrah was surprised to feel a pang in her chest; she had assumed as much herself, but hearing him say it made it more real. She nodded and headed over to one of the other chairs in the room. She sat and watched as Hershel pulled out a vial out of his satchel. He glanced up and seemed surprised to see her still in the room.
"You don't have to stay," he pointed out, and Myrah frowned.
"I intend to be here," she stated coldly. She wondered if he would try to convince her to leave but he merely nodded and turned his attention back to Heavy Metal. He unstopped the vial and she watched as he gently poured something into the leader's mouth.
"What was that?" she asked, and he glanced up.
"Heavy sleeping tonic," he admitted. "Lumanium based…with a few other ingredients. It should put him in a deep sleep and numb the pain for the last stretch."
Myrah felt numb herself.
"Of course," she murmured. "If that's all you can do for him now…"
"I'm afraid it is."
She hugged herself as Hershel replaced the vial into his satchel. The man in the bed seemed to relax, his breathing becoming slower and less haggard. Myrah studied Heavy Metal's expression and was relieved to see that he seemed at peace rather than in pain.
"How long?"
"It's hard to say. A few hours at most."
She leaned back in her chair and Hershel rubbed his face. He looked tired, she realized.
"Are you going to transport home now?" she found herself asking, and he shook his head.
"I can stay."
"You don't have to…"
"I'll stay until he passes."
Silence fell and Myrah rubbed her arm. They sat in their own thoughts for a bit, listening to the old leader's breathing…waiting for the end.
"Why don't you transport here usually? Or do you?"
Hershel glanced up at Myrah as the Western Leader broke the silence.
"How can you complain about how long it takes to walk here when you can get here in a moment?" she explained irritably, and he shook his head.
"I don't like to transport."
"Why?"
He shrugged, studying Heavy Metal's face.
"It's unnecessary."
"But undeniably faster. Does it make you nauseous as well? I didn't see you chew anything after…"
"When someone's first learning, it's worse than nausea. Transporting takes a lot of energy; it's not uncommon to pass out on the first go. You have to do it over and over to build your stamina."
"And you never built your stamina? You seem fine now."
He took a moment to answer.
"My Master taught me well; I have stamina to last through many things."
"I didn't pass out," Myrah said, leaning forward. "It was my first time."
Here Hershel finally turned to meet her eye, his face quirking up in a small smile.
"You were not the one spending the energy," he pointed out and she fell silent.
"I never asked you to use the energy on me," she argued. "I was willing to take a hoofer."
"But then you might not have made it back in time, before he passed," Hershel answered, and Myrah frowned.
"I didn't need to be."
"But you wanted to be."
Her frown deepened as she fixed him with a piercing look.
"Of course not; what makes you say that?"
Hershel shrugged.
"You obviously care about him; otherwise you wouldn't have come to get me."
"I came because he was in pain," Myrah snapped. "I respect him as a good leader, and I didn't think he deserved to make it through everything he did in his life just to suffer in the end."
Hershel was silent, and he picked up Heavy Metal's arm to check the pulse once again. Myrah watched him, scowling.
"Why don't you transport more?" she pressed again. "I don't see you using your powers very often. I thought you said that they were a part of you; that without them something would be missing. Yet you don't even use them…"
"I use them when I need to."
"Traveling is a need."
He sighed in irritation and looked back up at her with a serious expression.
"I'm not used to using them where anyone could see me," he finally admitted. Myrah scoffed.
"What on earth do you mean?"
He didn't answer and she probed deeper.
"Why wouldn't you want anyone to see? You don't like flaunting them? Or you don't want people to know? You're the Master Healer…obviously people know…"
"But they didn't always know. I was trained to keep them secret. To only use them away from prying eyes."
Myrah's brow knit in confusion.
"Why?"
He seemed annoyed by her questions, but he continued to answer her.
"Powers are a little more prevalent now…and no doubt they will continue to be."
Her expression darkened.
"That's what I'm afraid of…" she murmured, but Hershel continued as if she hadn't spoken.
"But when I first unlocked them, Keyda was the only other person with powers, as far as the general public knew. I was smuggled from the fortress so that I couldn't become a target for those who would use me, and I was taken to Phos. He took me in and trained me, but always warned me to be cautious. I know the secret is more or less out now, but…I guess old habits die hard."
She studied him closely from across the room.
"Why keep them secret? If Archtivus was as powerful as they say you needn't of worried. Not to mention that your own abilities would rival anything anyone else could do."
He scoffed bitterly at that, and his expression became pained.
"Yes, he was powerful. But I was not. I was weak…and I didn't keep them as secret as I should have. There were consequences for my mistakes."
"What kinds of consequences?"
He looked up to meet her eye, and she couldn't read his expression. She wondered if he was trying to decide how much to tell her. Or maybe he was trying to decide if she actually cared to know.
"It's in the past now," he admitted. "But it makes me wary of doing things out in the open. Transporting is unnecessary; even my own Master only did it on occasion."
She processed his words and wanted to press deeper about whatever event it was he was referring to. But instead, another question came to her mind.
"Why the library?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why not transport right to this room? Why transport to the library?"
His expression became blank.
"Aura transports work best when you are more familiar with the place you are going."
"You've been here, in this room. You've treated him here. You were familiar…"
"The library was easier to picture," he cut in, and something in his tone made her think that he was done discussing it. After a few minutes Master Hershel glanced up to catch her eye again.
"Will you miss him? When he's gone?"
She didn't know what to say, her eyes flicking over to where Heavy Metal's chest was still slowly rising and falling. Myrah finally scoffed.
"Miss him? I respect him, that's all."
"Many people respected him. But they didn't check up on him nearly as much as you have through these last weeks. They aren't here now."
Her expression became distant.
"He lasted far longer than many other Western Leaders. He deserved to spend his last months respected…not ignored."
"He was a good leader," Hershel agreed.
Myrah's expression darkened.
"Yes. He would have made a good Ruler."
Hershel blinked in surprise and Myrah seemed to catch herself. She flushed, but then she continued.
"I've spent my life studying successful leaders from the past…successful Rulers. Those who let their emotions guide them were doomed to ruin. Emotions like Affection destroyed the line of Kahzym. Fear ended Virgil's line. Even here in the West, useless passions destroyed many attempts to rule. Take Warrack: greed, anger, jealousy…"
"He tried to kill Keyda," Hershel remembered softly, and she scoffed.
"He was an ambitious man. But his greed and pride blinded him; his plan was both foolish and fruitless and it got him executed."
Hershel nodded, but his mind seemed far away. Myrah continued.
"A good leader…a good ruler puts such emotions aside. Ambitious, but not blind with greed. Aware, but not affectionate. Concerned but never fearful. They do not mourn, they move forward."
She looked back at Heavy Metal.
"He encompassed all these qualities. I never saw him uncollected, or unresolved. He could command a force with confidence, he was grounded in tradition, and he was never distracted in the ways failures of the past have been. I just never understood why he didn't apply for the Rulership himself when the Baron died. Why put forward an emotional slave with no ruling experience when he could have led the realm far better?"
Hershel frowned.
"You don't think Keyda is a good Ruler?"
Myrah froze, her expression betraying that she had spoken more of her mind than she had meant to.
"The realm could be in worse hands," she finally admitted. "I just felt that it would have been better for him to assume control of the realm, rather than having her do so."
"Heavy Metal stood by Keyda through many things," Hershel pointed out. "If he really warranted so much of your respect…couldn't you respect his judgment that she would lead the realm to a better place?"
"Was it really about leading the realm to a better place? Or was it more that she was powered, and thus appeared to be the strongest in the realm…so he knew people would follow her with less convincing? Not enough people have learned the history of the realm. Just because someone is strong in one way does not mean they are fit to lead."
She was angry now, and she uncharacteristically picked at a loose thread she found on her clothes.
"There were plenty of strong Oni who appeared in the wake of Warrack's death, but despite their supposed physical prowess, they never lasted long. It only took one slip up…one mistake. And they were replaced because they were weak leaders. The rest of us had to play so many sides just to be spared the vengeance of whichever idiot found themselves on the throne."
"You were here for all of that? I remember when Warrack was executed…" Hershel pointed out, his expression becoming misty. "That's when my sister and I first went to live with Phos. It was decades ago…you would have been a child."
"I was here years before even that; I was handpicked from a village to be trained here at the fortress when I was very young. I was disciplined and took direction, and exuded little emotion. A perfect candidate to be a sound advisor. When Warrack was killed, the West was in uproar. And what did Keyda do after killing him? She forgot about us; left an entire province to fend for themselves. By the time Heavy Metal came I was sure that there would be no way to piece the province back together into something stable enough that I could lead someday, but he did it. And rather than target us advisors, he took the time to learn about each of us. Decide who was best to keep and who was best to let go."
The thread had become longer and she fiddled with it, lost in her own memories, forgetting who it was she was even addressing.
"He understood my passion and direction better than even Warrack had. He trained me in many ways, taught me how to rule, and named me his successor. He is what I hope to be."
"I see."
She glanced up and realized that Hershel was staring at her once again, but there was something in his expression she couldn't place. He was a mystery, this Master Healer, and she wished he wouldn't look at her that way.
"You mentioned once that you owed him a favor," she said, trying to change the subject off of herself. "What debt would a Healer have to the Western Leader?"
It accomplished what she wanted it to; at the question, Hershel glanced away. He stared at the fading Oni in the bed and sighed.
"It was a long time ago…before I ever lived with Phos, let alone became his apprentice. I was a slave, not a healer."
Myrah forced herself to stop picking at the thread. She stared at the Master Healer as continued to speak softly.
"My sister and I were sold to the traders when she was very young. Our parents had starved her, and she was incredibly weak. The traders almost killed her because they knew she was more trouble to lug around than she was worth…monetarily. But they also knew it was fever season, and they were taking us to the Central Fortress because they knew of the Baron's need for slaves. He tended to go through them quickly."
His expression was sad in the candlelight.
"I heard them talk about it. I knew that if the traders couldn't sell her, they would kill her. I gave Syn my own measly rations for the trip…as much as I could spare. But it wasn't enough; we arrived at the fortress and she was still so frail and weak. At the time, the Baron was in control of the fortress, and Heavy Metal his right-hand man. It was Heavy Metal who dealt with the traders that day. He had a large order to fill because they had lost many slaves to fever…but even then, when it got to us kids at the end of the line…"
Hershel swallowed, and Myrah wondered how a memory could still be painful when it had happened so long ago.
"He bought me, but turned Syn down. They started dragging her off and I panicked. I had promised I would protect her…she meant everything to me."
The Western Leader frowned; this Master Healer was open about his affection. He clearly didn't see it as a weakness…something he should be ashamed of.
"I begged him. I swore I could get her back to strength, that she would be useful. I swore I would work harder than anyone if he would purchase her as well so we could stay together. The traders mocked me, and I knew I didn't have much of a chance. Heavy Metal was fearsome; he used to wear a metal mask that obscured his true face; only his eyes showed through. They started dragging me off to be put to work by the slave matron. I fought and begged; the Matron told Heavy Metal to teach me some respect. But rather than beat me, he surprised us all and tossed the traders another few coins."
Myrah frowned in thought as Hershel leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs.
"I've never been so relieved than when they released Syn. When the Matron questioned him about the decision, Heavy Metal claimed that the Baron was pressuring him about filling their slave quota, and then he left. We did work hard, and Syn did get stronger. She just needed someone to believe that she could."
"So that's it? He paid for your sister to live at the fortress?"
"He saved her life. Once I learned more about the Baron, I realized that he would have killed Syn on sight if he had seen her those first few months. But Heavy Metal spared her; gave her a chance to prove herself." He glanced back at the dying Oni. "He gave us both that chance."
Myrah was at a loss then. She had known Heavy Metal for the last two decades, trained under him. She tried to picture him saving a starving child just because he could. What would the motivation be? It hinted of affection…or at the very least, of pity. Surely that was not something found in a strong leader.
Hershel was leaning forward now, checking Heavy Metal's pulse on his neck. The Healer's expression seemed sad.
"It won't be long now; his heart is slowing."
It was only another ten minutes. Myrah watched with a numb sort of calm as her leader and teacher of many years drew slower and slower breaths, until the moment when the breathing stopped altogether. She clenched her jaw tightly, feeling strange. The world felt like it was tilting, her throat tight. She wondered if it could be the effects of the transport still lingering.
Hershel took one last pulse and shook his head, and Myrah watched as he calmly pulled the sheet over the leader's head. He glanced over at the woman in the chair across the room, studying her expression.
"Are you alright?"
It came out kindly, and for some reason that snapped her out of her frozen state. She glared at him.
"I'm fine."
He shook his head, and she was surprised when he stood and came over.
"Don't force the emotions down, Myrah. It isn't wrong to feel grief. Let yourself…"
"I'm not grieving."
She pushed herself to her feet, but she found that she was stuck. She was nauseous again, and she put a hand to her head.
"I need one of those leaves," she admitted, but the Master Healer didn't reach for one. He just shook his head sadly.
"It's not dizziness, Myrah. It's grief…"
"How would you know?" she hissed.
"I can sense it," he said simply, scanning her expression. "I'm not as good as Phos was, but in this instance it's clear."
She stiffened at that.
"If you're waiting for me to break down…to cry…you'll be disappointed," she said. "Good leaders do not mourn, they…"
"Move forward," he finished, remembering what she had said. "But blocking off your emotion doesn't make you stronger…just as unlocking her powers wasn't Keyda's true strength. If that was all she had, then you're right; she wouldn't have lasted long as a Ruler."
"What are you talking about?" Myrah asked. She wanted to leave, but she felt rooted to this room, heavy with this feeling.
"It isn't emotions that inhibit good leading; it's how people react to their own emotions. How they view the emotions of those in the realm."
He met her eye, and she clenched her jaw at his look of concern.
"Trust me, Myrah…I've been here. I didn't have as much warning, but I've been here. I promise you, mourning is the way to move forward. You bury it all instead, and…well…"
He paused.
"Then you get Tolan."
She blinked, remembering the guard and his meltdown in the library. Hershel must have taken her stony silence for anger because he finally sighed.
"I need to go inform Keyda of his passing; she wanted me to let her know when it happened."
That took Myrah by surprise; no one had mentioned any such thing to her.
"Is that why you stayed with him?" she asked, and she was surprised when she heard how bitter she sounded. "Because you needed to report to the Ruler the second he died?"
Hershel shook his head.
"No. I stayed because it's hard for someone to be alone in times like these."
Myrah scoffed softly.
"He didn't even know you were here; he never woke again after you gave him the sleeping tonic."
Master Hershel gave her a hint of a smile.
"I meant you."
She was again surprised to silence, and then the Healer was pressing something into her hand.
"In case the nausea doesn't let up," he said, and she glanced down to see another leaf like the one before. The Healer headed for the door and she finally found her voice.
"Master Hershel? What do I owe you? You've long paid any debt to Heavy Metal by this point…"
He turned and gave her another smile. He seemed to be lost in thought a moment, as if trying to decide whether to say something. No doubt, trying to determine a fair price for his labor and time.
"You can just call me Hershel, if you want."
It wasn't what she had expected him to say, and she was unsure of how to respond.
"And you don't owe me anything. I'll bring your hoofer back tomorrow when I come for the Healers' lessons."
She stood stunned, and she said the only thing she could think of to say.
"Alright."
99
Cole's slid his arm around Keyda's shoulders, pulling her close.
"He wasn't in pain," he pointed out softly. "That's what Hersh said."
"I know. It just…" She sighed, laying her head on his shoulder. "It's like I don't even know how to feel."
"I don't blame you for being upset," he pointed out. "He was a good ally…and you had a lot of history together."
She nodded, and tears filled her eyes.
"Should I have been there? Part of me just feels like I should have been there."
Cole shook his head and then kissed her forehead.
"Hershel said he was unconscious by the time he got there and didn't wake up again. There isn't really anything you could have done, Keyds."
She nodded, but she wrapped her arm around his waist and closed her eyes. The living room was empty, and tonight there wasn't even a fire in the fireplace. Tears escaped down Keyda's face, but she wasn't crying hard. It was more a resolved sort of grief.
"I wish I had known how close he was," she finally said. "I mean, before he ever retired. I wish he had trusted me with that."
"He knew you would worry," Cole murmured into her hair. "You did get to say goodbye."
"I should have visited more often. I only ever saw him at leader meetings, once a month."
Cole was silent as he moved his arm so he could run his hand through her hair.
"Heavy Metal wasn't the kind of person who wanted lots of personal contact. He didn't always appreciate social visits," he pointed out. "I think you treated him exactly how he wanted to be treated."
She sighed heavily.
"I guess."
"Do Oni have funerals? I'm beginning to realize that I've never really heard of any kind of ceremony for people's passing. We didn't do anything when Phos passed."
"Funerals?" Keyda asked quietly. Cole turned to her.
"A way to honor those who have passed. In Ninjago we light candles in remembrance and have little memorials. Everyone gets together to talk about who they were and our memories of them."
"No…we don't do that, exactly," she said. She suddenly remembered Wu mentioning a similar thing, all those years ago when they thought they had lost Cole. The thought of doing something like that for Heavy Metal made her feel strangely small. "I don't know what people normally do, to be honest. I've never lost someone like this."
"We ought to do something," Cole said. "What would he want? A burial?"
Keyda frowned.
"Knowing him he would want something traditional. But I don't know much realm history outside of the scrolls you translated, and I can't remember if they mentioned anything like that."
"Theo and I can search them tomorrow, see what we can find," he assured, and Keyda sighed.
"I just…I can't even believe he's gone."
Cole kissed her head again, and they sat like that until Keyda fell asleep.
"That is not a dance move."
M. laughed at Amber's disgust, their faces crowded around the screen of his phone.
"It is now…it's the latest craze; everyone's doing it."
"More like the latest way to look crazy," Amber sniffed. "Waving their arms around like that? They look like pigeons; insane pigeons."
"Mmm, well, I'm sure that whoever invented it would be psyched to know you've renamed it 'The Insane Pigeon," M said as the video faded. He shut off his phone and slid it back into his pocket. "There've been crazier dance moves in history though. I'm sure your Grandpa's told you about the Triple Tiger Sashay?"
Amber shrugged.
"Of course. My Dad's the one who pulled it off."
M. looked surprised and she looked over.
"Did you not know about that? It was during a Ninjago City Talent Show, back when he was with the ninja. Papa Lou told us that story all the time growing up; he still has the picture of the Ninja with the Blade Cup hanging on his wall."
"No way! I didn't really remember hearing that anyone ever did, to be honest; it's got all these weirdly complicated rules and I doubted anyone would really be able to follow them through."
"My Dad did," Amber said proudly.
M. shrugged.
"You know, I'm beginning to see your Dad's a better dancer than everyone gives him credit for."
"Of course he is! He didn't quit because he was bad," Amber said, though she didn't mention that she had been under a similar impression months ago, before he had danced with her at the talent show. "He could probably still pull off the Triple Tiger Sashay now, except he has a bad back."
They were outside and M. laid back into the grass, staring up at the clouds.
"Bad back, huh? Sure that's not just some excuse?" he teased, and Amber scowled.
"It's no excuse; if you knew the trauma his back's been through, you'd be surprised he could walk. Mom finally made him swear off any kind of competitive fighting because they'd target his back and then he'd limp for days."
M. whistled low.
"Geez…pretty caustic environment you live in, Amber," he said. She shrugged before lying in the grass as well.
"It's not too bad. It's Dad's own fault…I think he thinks he's younger than he is."
They stared up at the meandering clouds, the occasional birdcall whistling through. It was definitely getting chillier this time of year, but Amber was swaddled in a thick woolen sweater and M. had a jacket on with the school's logo.
"This is nice," the Openheimer finally commented. "I swear it feels like we haven't gotten to hang out for forever."
"Yeah," Amber agreed. He glanced over at her.
"How are you doing, by the way?"
She gave him a sideways look, as if trying to guess at what he meant. He realized that she could assume he was talking about their previous fights…or things with his mom. He quickly clarified, set on steering away from the other points of conversation.
"I just mean…you went through all that crap a few weeks back, with your brother and everything. I haven't really asked you how all of that's going." He rubbed his head sheepishly. "I probably should have."
She had gone silent now, and stiff. He frowned and sat up.
"Is…Theo ok?"
"He's fine." She stared up at the sky and sighed. "But…I…"
M's frown deepened as she pushed herself up as well.
"I've been having these horrible nightmares," she explained softly, and M. scanned her face.
"Aw man…I'm sorry," he said. "Nightmares about what happened?"
She nodded, biting her lip.
"I've never had nightmares before," she admitted. M. frowned.
"Never? I mean, no doubt these ones are worse than average…but you haven't even had the one where you're in class and you suddenly realize you aren't wearing shoes, and then you're only in your underwear and everyone's laughing and…"
He trailed off as Amber turned to give him the most confused and slightly disturbed look, and he flushed slightly.
"I…take it that's a no?"
"I've had bad dreams before," she clarified, seemingly ignoring his strange tangent altogether. "But I always knew I was dreaming? Or, some part of me knew that it wasn't real, even if I didn't know it was a dream. But these nightmares…"
She shuddered hard.
"They're awful, M. And I can feel everything, and it's all so real. I woke Dani up a few nights ago and scared her so bad…"
M's expression hardened and he shrugged nonchalantly.
"I'm sure it's not that bad, Amber. Your roommate seems pretty flighty; a bad note could put her on edge…"
She shot him another look he couldn't quite place. He cleared his throat and continued.
"What are the dreams about? That Alchemist lady?"
Amber's expression fell and she looked away, as if remembering.
"Yeah. The craziest thing is, in the moment, when everything was going down and I was fighting her all those weeks ago…I wasn't scared. I mean, I guess I was scared what would happen if I failed, and I felt horrible that I had trusted her and was afraid that everyone would know it was all my fault. But I wasn't scared of her." She paused. "If that makes any sense."
"It kinda does," M said, picking at the grass as he listened. "Is that how it is in your dreams?"
Amber shuddered.
"No. In the nightmares I'm terrified of her. They're always a bit different…but I'm always totally helpless, and she always gets Theo."
M. frowned.
"'Gets Theo?' What do you mean?"
"That's what she threatened me with, during our battle; she said if I didn't do what she said she would take Theo and lock him away somewhere, and I'd never find him. I beat her before she could even touch him in real life, but in my nightmare she's always victorious. Sometimes I'm frozen there, watching her imprison him…and sometimes I never even see him. I just hear him screaming….and feel his terror."
M's eyes were wide as he stared at her.
"Amber…this is kinda heavy stuff," he finally admitted. "Have you told anyone else about this? Like…someone who could help?"
She scowled, wrapping her arms around her knees.
"Help how?"
"Like a counselor or something…"
"Ugh, a counselor isn't going to understand!" she snapped, looking over at him. "Dani already tried to convince me to go, but if I tell them about all of this they aren't going to help me. They're going to tell your father that I'm crazy and get me kicked out!"
"They aren't going to say you're crazy…"
"Really? Because you're my best friend and even you think I'm crazy sometimes!" she answered hotly. He felt a sting at that; he didn't think she was crazy. He just thought her life was kinda insane, the stories she shared. Then M. felt an unexpected feeling of warmth; she had said best friend. Which meant even with the weirdo roommate or those other music nerds, he still came first in Amber's mind. It was kind of a relief.
"I don't think you're crazy. I just think that the stuff that happens to you is crazy," M. corrected. "And, fine, don't talk to the school counselor, like your roommate was telling you. I just meant that maybe there's someone in your realm you could talk to. They would understand where all of this stuff was coming from, right?"
Amber was silent, but she finally shrugged.
"Maybe."
She still seemed upset, but after a moment she looked over at him.
"What about you? How have you been?"
M. smiled.
"I've been good. I mean, things are really going well with…."
He trailed off right before mentioning his mother. That was really the only news he had to share, and he suddenly felt disappointed that he couldn't share it with Amber; he had gotten used to them dumping their excitements and concerns and stuff on each other. But he had already decided that even if he could talk to his mom about Amber, he couldn't talk to Amber about his mom. The last thing he needed was a continued fight with her when things were going so well with everything else at the moment.
She frowned, as if guessing what he was thinking. Though, he grimaced, she didn't really have to guess. She knew what he was feeling, at least.
"Things are good with me," he finally answered, seeking some topic of safe ground. "Just studying for that final that Professor Benrook is putting on at the end of next week. I swear I heard Mariachi music coming from his classroom during prep period yesterday; I have no idea what he's expecting us to…"
"Amber!"
They turned, and M. felt an immediate flash of annoyance. Why was it that Amber couldn't just hang out with him without anyone feeling the need to interrupt?
But rather than a music nerd, the person crossing the field was a tall, very pale nearly-eighteen year-old. Amber was to her feet in seconds.
"Theo! What are you doing here?"
He gave her a little smile.
"Don't worry; I transported to Grandpa's and walked over. I didn't freak anybody else out in the hallways."
"Why did you transport at all?" she demanded, her stomach twisting in knots. "Are you ok? How are your memories? You haven't…."
"Chill, Amber, I'm fine. Honest," he assured her, reaching out to give her horn a little shake. "I just wanted to fill you in with some news from home."
"Oh."
M. stood a few feet away, feeling awkward as he watched this exchange between the two Oni siblings.
"Heavy Metal passed away," Theo said quietly, and M. frowned. Someone had died? Just what Amber needed…
"Oh," Amber said again, and M. frowned. Was he mistaking, or did she sound slightly relieved? The xinta continued softly. "He was really sick though, wasn't he? He already had replaced himself and everything…"
"Yeah, he was pretty sick," Theo said with a sad smile. "And pretty old. Dad and I spent the last few days looking up old Oni traditions, and we found some information about an ancient send-off memorial thing. It's how they memorialized Kahzym III after the Elder killed him."
M. was definitely confused, and feeling out of place, but he stayed rooted to the spot regardless. Amber frowned.
"Oh yeah…I think I remember reading about that."
"We're doing it the day after tomorrow. It'll be the weekend, but I don't want you to feel like you have to come. I know they're pretty strict about attendance and everything; I just wanted to let you know…"
"You should go!" M blurted. Theo and Amber both turned to him in confusion. He swallowed, shrugging in a casual way. "I mean, it's a funeral. Other students get permission to go home for funerals, and it's the weekend…"
Amber sighed.
"I really can't, M; not this close to being let back in. If anything were to happen and I got kicked out again…"
"I'll talk to my Dad about it," M. promised. "We're…we're doing pretty good right now. If I can get him to say yes, then you'll be able to go without worrying about it."
She blinked and finally a smile broke out.
"Well…thanks. Maybe I should just ask him myself."
M. shook his head.
"Nah, I have to see him tonight at dinner anyways. Let me ask him."
She thought about it for a few more moments and then nodded.
"Alright. If you don't mind…"
"I don't. After all, what are best friends for?"
24