205
"Tobias, you can't!"
Theo was glaring hard, both at the Ninjagoan and the smug Southern Leader.
"Why not?" Ottan asked, mock surprised. "I feel that the Pit would be a great way to introduce this…ambassador to the south."
"You don't have to worry about me, Prince Theo," Tobias agreed, puffing his chest slightly. "I have been trained in four different kinds of martial arts."
"Ottan. He's not fighting in the Pit."
"I don't think that you really get to tell Ambassador Bentworth what to do," Ottan chided. "He is the ambassador; the whole point is that he doesn't have to do what the Ruling family says."
"This Pit fighting sounds downright barbaric!" Tobias added cheerfully. "I'd love to get into the action."
Theo was at a loss for words, so he just glared harder at Ottan. "I'd like to speak with you alone."
Ottan's smile widened, as if he found the entire exchange amusing. Which Theo knew he did. Leaving Ret and Tobias behind, Theo marched into the next room with the Southern Leader.
"Are you trying to get him killed?" Theo hissed, and Ottan laughed out loud.
"Please. The Pit isn't to the death unless I declare it to be. Which, in this case, I understand that I cannot…"
"He'll get what little sense he has scrambled!" Theo argued. "He'll break an arm or a leg…or worse, his neck. Ninjago is not going to appreciate it if their ambassador gets paralyzed while here!"
Ottan stroked his beard, as if he was thinking about it. "You make good points, Theodynn," he finally offered. Theo sighed in relief.
"Thank you. So you agree that…"
"I'm thinking Tobias may need a partner in the ring, to make sure that nothing so drastic comes to pass."
Theo just stared, and it wasn't until he caught Ottan's meaningful look that he realized what he was suggesting. "I can't fight in the pit!" he blurted. "My parents will kill me!"
"Please, you're old enough now to make your own decisions," The Southern Leader argued, putting his hands behind his back in a smug manner. "Last I heard, you've turned eighteen now. Though, I don't remember getting an invitation to your annual birth celebration."
His gaze became hard and Theo facepalmed.
"I didn't have one this year, Ottan," he explained dryly. "And besides, you never even come anyways."
"It's still nice to be invited," the leader huffed, smoothing the ruff of his fur cape. "At any rate, Tobias has already agreed to fight in the Pit this afternoon. Just let me know whether I need to change it to be a two-on-two…"
Theo crossed his arms, feeling like he wanted to strangle the man in front of him. As if his job keeping Tobias in line wasn't hard enough!
"Ret will never let me," he finally said. "He'll insist on going in there with Tobias, if you're going to insist on having him fight."
"The bodyguard," Ottan guessed, glancing over at Retrevan's hulking frame in the other room. "I'm afraid he's a little too…large for a two-on-two. Unless he wants to take them both on himself."
"He probably could, easily," Theo mused, and Ottan shook his head.
"Tobias alone, or Tobias and Prince Theo. I'm afraid those are the only options."
"You're being ridiculous!" Theo snapped. "There is no reason for him to fight!"
"Are you kidding? The last time we had a Ninjagoan in the ring, your father nearly took out three other fighters single-handedly…"
"And was limping for a week, from what I heard," Theo hissed, keeping his voice soft. "Plus, my father had elemental powers. Tobias hasn't even been blessed with common sense."
"Mmmm…but you're a pretty good fighter. At least, I assume. I've never really been allowed to see you in action."
Theodynn's eyes flashed. "You did this on purpose!" he accused. "You just love backing people into corners…"
"The nerve!" Ottan gasped, his own expression hardening. "For your information, Tobias asked to fight in the Pit after I brought it up. Who am I to keep him from experiencing Oni Culture?"
"But you just had to twist it in your favor and try to get me to fight as well," the Heir pointed out angrily. Ottan looked aghast.
"In my favor?" he repeated. "What on earth do I have to gain from you being in the pit?"
"That's what I'm still trying to figure out!"
"It was merely a suggestion, since you seemed so worried about your yellow ambassador. Don't feel pressured; I'm sure this Tobias will hold his own just fine."
Ottan looked towards the ambassador as he spoke, and Theo turned to see Tobias going through some strange sort of stretching routine in the other room while Retrevan watched with a morbid fascination. After a moment, Theo pressed his hands to his head, feeling stuck. He could always transport home and talk to his parents—they would probably be able to think up a solution. But he had a feeling that he would lose Ottan's respect if he went running to his parents for help. And if he ever was going to be the Ruler of the realm, respect was something he should be trying to gain from the Province leaders. But at this point, Ottan had only really given him the one option.
He sighed heavily, and Ottan's grin grew, knowing he had won.
"So…I'll pen you in?"
"If I can convince Retrevan to let me," Theo muttered. "Be warned…when my parents find out, you're going to be in a world of pain."
Ottan laughed again, slapping Theo on the back.
"There's that fighting spirit! As for your parents, I say don't let your opponents land an attack, and the Rulers will never know."
The crowd was roaring, and Theo turned to look at Ottan one last time.
"I think I hate you," he pointed out, but the Western Leader just laughed.
"You'll thank me, boy. You need a few more scars on your body to be a real warrior…"
"Theodynn, I still think this is a bad idea."
Theo glanced over at Ret who was fixing him with a long look, and the eighteen-year-old's resolve wavered.
"I know it is," he finally admitted. "But Ottan won't let you go in the ring and Tobias is going to get pulverized if he goes in there alone. I mean, I could have asked my Dad for help, but chances are Ottan would rope him into this and we'd be in an even worse position."
Retrevan's expression didn't change and Theo sighed.
"It's not like I haven't been trained in hand to hand combat," he pointed out softly. "And what better teachers could I have than Tolan and Heavy Metal?"
"You get hurt, I'm coming in there. To heck with rules."
"I…think I'll be fine," Theo tried, but he was even less convinced than his bodyguard. Retrevan gave him one last long look.
"I could knock Tobias out to begin with," he offered. "We'll take him back to the fortress and say he went out in the first few minutes. He won't remember a thing."
It may have been the most violent thing Ret had ever offered to do, but by now the crowd was going crazier, and Theo turned to see that Tobias had already run out into the ring. He seemed to be enjoying himself, waving at the crowd. He was…pretty scrawny. Theo sighed heavily.
"Thanks, Ret. I'll feel better knowing you're on standby," he offered, and then pulled his shirt off quickly. He shivered despite the heat; he wasn't sure he really enjoyed being so exposed…especially in front of a crowd that was roaring for his blood. At least, that's what it felt like.
To be honest, Theo had mixed emotions as he jogged down the stairs to the smelly pit and allowed someone to help him wrap his hands. He had actually wanted to fight in the pit ever since he had seen a few fights as a kid, but his parents had always told him no. He knew he could handle it, but now in the moment, his stomach was churning. What if something went wrong? And honestly, if he only had to worry about himself, he'd be fine. The fact that he was going to have to babysit a scrawny yellow fireball was definitely going to complicate things.
He entered the ring and blinked in the bright sunshine.
"Prince Theo! You joined me after all! Ottan told me how long you've been waiting to fight in the pits; how wonderful that we're going to get to debut together!"
Theo returned Tobias's wide grin with a scowl. "Listen, Tobias…we need to get this over with as quickly as possible, alright? Try not to let them land any hits…"
"Mmm…but the scars are the stories worth telling!" the wiry man argued. Theo just blinked.
"What?"
"Friends!" A voice boomed out over the arena, and Theo's heart started pounding. He had actually dreamed of this moment—when he would finally enter the ring. He hadn't envisioned his palms being so sweaty.
"I can do this…" he muttered to himself. If he had a weapon, he would have felt better about all of this; he knew he was good with a sword. He was good at hand to hand too, he told himself. Just because he hadn't ever beat Tolan didn't mean anything. His heart clenched suddenly at the thought of his old bodyguard. If Tolan was still around, there was no way Ottan would have pressured either of them into this. The Southern Leader didn't let the lanky guard within a hundred feet of his arena; he wouldn't have forced Theo to come because he would have known Tolan would have insisted on being in the ring as well. Though, if Tolan was still around, Tobias would probably be dead already…
"Begin!"
Theo jumped as the start bell clanged above them. He had missed Ottan's speech, and he realized suddenly that two other Oni had entered the ring. They weren't huge…but they were bigger than he and Tobias, that was for sure. He cursed softly; if he made it out of this, he was going to kill Ottan.
Tobias let out a strange warrior-like shriek as he bolted for one of the Oni, and Theo's heart jumped in his throat.
"Wait!"
But the ambassador was not waiting. He was faster than Theo had expected, and the Heir watched in dumb amazement as Tobias dodged the attacker's initial punch and landed a firm one of his own to the man's face. The attacker grunted and Tobias looked over in victory.
"Prince Theo! Look out!" he warned, and Theo realized he hadn't been paying attention. He barely managed to dodge the second attacker as he scrambled backward, but due to his lack of readiness, he was forced to go on the defensive for several minutes as he dodged swing after swing.
"You've got this, Prince Theo! Don't be intimidated just because he's twice your size!"
How did the man remain so chipper while facing deadly odds? Theo clenched his jaw, finally confident enough in his stance to try to move on the offensive. He was faster than this brute; he just had to jump around until he found an opening.
He feigned left and retreated quickly to the right as the man swung, and in seconds he had landed a good blow to the back of the man's knee. His leg gave out, but the man's reflexes were quicker than Theo had anticipated. The attacker growled as he swung out and managed to hit Theo in the ribs. The younger Oni gasped; that would bruise for sure. Luckily it wasn't enough to knock him off his feet, and Theo recovered quickly as he began to back up, planning his next move.
The attacker narrowed his eyes and lunged, and Theo couldn't help but wonder if this guy knew that he was the prince…and things were going to be very messy if he got killed in this arena today. He spun out of the way of the lunge and had enough space for a good kick. The man twisted and tried to grab him again, but the teen had learned from his last attack and managed to get away just in time.
The crowd cheered and Theo couldn't help but grin a little; he was holding his own. He always knew he could. For the next few minutes, they were engaged in the fighters' dance. The attacker was a lot more conservative about his moves now, which left Theo few openings. He managed to land a few offensive attacks of his own. Each time the crowd went wild, and Theo grinned.
It would have been nice to know how the fight would have gone if he had been on his own. But of course, Tobias's four forms of marshal arts eventually failed him.
"Blast!"
Theo's blood ran cold at the yell and he remembered that he was supposed to be looking out for Tobias. He looked over and saw the man pinned up against the wall. He was sporting a bruise on one cheek, though his attacker seemed to be covered in a few bruises of his own. Theo cursed himself as he dodged his own opponent; he should have been watching!
Tobias didn't have anywhere to go; he was basically a sitting duck as he dodged blow after blow. However, his attacker finally lunched out and managed to grab the Ninjagoan long enough to wind up a punch….
Theo slammed into the side of Tobias's attacker. It was not a graceful move…nor well thought out. But it had the desired effect; the Oni went flying to the side, and Tobias managed to weasel his way out of where he had been pinned. The man Theo had body-slammed recovered quickly, lunging out towards Theo. The heir was out of breath from his sprint across the ring, and barely managed to dodge.
"Look out!"
Tobias's warning came too late; Theo's attacker had caught up with them and Theo yelled out as he felt himself lifted into the air. He struggled a moment, and he was aware of the crowd's incensed roar as he suddenly went flying across the arena. The world was a blur, he faintly was aware of his own yell, and then everything went black.
Theo groaned at a pain in his head as he came to. Someone was carrying him, and he blinked up at Retrevan's stern expression.
"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Theo finally managed, his head pounding. Ret glanced down, and Theo wondered if he should be worried at the expression he gave him. Then his consciousness faded again.
Theo.
The teen stirred. What was that smell? Smelled like…dragon.
"Dad," he muttered, his eyes opening. Cole's face was staring down at him, and Theo's brow furrowed.
"Where am I?" he asked. He didn't recognize this room. Whose bed was this?
"The Southern Fortress," Cole said. He was studying Theo closely, and the teen groaned as he sat up. "How are you feeling?"
Theo rubbed his head and winced. There was a good-sized bump there. He wondered how banged up he was.
"I'm alright," he said, and Cole sighed.
"What were you thinking?"
Theo sank back down into the bed; his father was using his disappointed voice.
"I…had to protect Tobias…" he argued weakly, and Cole's expression hardened.
"You could have transported him back to the Central Fortress, Theodynn. Anything would have been better than actually fighting in the pit!"
Cole rarely raised his voice; Theo winced when he realized how worried his father was.
"I thought I could do it," he finally admitted. "I didn't know that it would end so badly."
"You could have been killed!" Cole argued. "They knocked you out, Theo."
Theo stared up at the roof and sighed, not even sure what to say. Cole didn't seem to be done chastising him, however.
"You had to have known how your mother and I would react," he snapped. Theo looked back over at him.
"Yeah," he admitted softly. "Though…I was picturing Mom as the one yelling at me for being an idiot."
"Mmm…she's too busy screaming at Ottan and Tobias," Cole said with a tight smile. "But of the three of you, I'm honestly most disappointed in you, Theo. You had to have known this was a bad idea."
Theo didn't answer, sinking down further in the bed. It was humiliating that his parents were here, really. He had known that he was going to get chewed out, but it was more embarrassing that he had actually gotten hurt. He was well prepared for the "even though nothing happened, something could have," talk. But here he was having the "you idiot you nearly died" talk instead.
"I'm sorry, Dad," he finally muttered, not really having anything else to say. "But I've been trying to keep Tobias out of trouble all week. It's impossible! Do you have any idea how hard it's been, keeping him in line? Constantly covering for him, cleaning up the mess he leaves in his wake. He demanded to fight in the pit, and what was I supposed to do? Watch as he got killed?"
Cole exhaled out his nose, thinking.
"It was probably unfair for me to saddle you with this," Cole finally admitted. "I assumed he would be a little bit of a handful, but I should have guessed that Ottan would pull something like this. I didn't even know you were taking him to meet the leaders."
"He insisted!" Theo said, staring up at the ceiling. "He trashed Myrah's library, nearly fell down a mine shaft up in the North, and Tala refused to even meet him. I was surprised when Ottan agreed, but we weren't ten minutes into the meeting before they had set up a Pit fight and I didn't want to come crying to you because it's hard enough getting the leaders to respect me as a leader myself without running and getting my parents all the time!"
Cole had listened silently, and Theo glowered at the ceiling a little longer until he calmed down.
"I know it was stupid. It was just…all I could think of to do."
His father sighed. "Alright, Theo. We won't leave you on your own with Tobias anymore."
Theo flushed, feeling embarrassed. He had finally gotten trusted with something, and here he was complaining and having that responsibility taken away.
"Is there a reason that you came all the way here, instead of Ret just taking me back home?" Theo asked. Cole sighed.
"You were pretty banged up. Ret wanted to make sure you were alright before moving you that far. Ottan graciously offered a room in his fortress. That jerk…if your mother doesn't kill him, I have half a mind to."
Theo smiled a little at the thought of his mother chewing out the leader and the ambassador.
"So…can we go home?"
Cole studied him a moment longer. "Ottan called for a healer to come check you over. If they give you the ok, then we can."
Theo frowned; at this point, he just wanted to be home. "Can't we just call for Hershel when we get back?"
"Theo. You got thrown across the ring, smashing your head against the wall. Retrevan stormed the Pit, knocked out both opponents and got to you. From what I heard, it was quite a commotion. With everything that happened because of your poor choice, you can wait here until a healer looks you over."
Theo sighed. "I'm sorry, Dad."
Cole was quiet for a moment, and finally reached out to gently ruffle Theo's hair. "I'm glad you're alright."
"I've been wanting to close that Pit down for years, Ottan. And your actions today give me more than enough reasons to."
Keyda's eyes were blazing as she regarded the Southern Leader. Tobias was sitting in a chair nearby, wisely silent for once as he watched the Oni Ruler with wide eyes. Ottan was standing, facing Keyda with a stony expression. At the mention of closing his Pit, however, a vein bulged in his neck.
"How dare you threaten such a thing!" he hissed. "The Pit is one of the few Oni traditions that have withstood your tampering…"
"You nearly got my son killed today!" Keyda snapped back. She was shaking with anger, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if it would have been better to let Cole handle this after all. He had wanted to, but she was too furious with these idiots; Cole wouldn't be hard enough on them. She needed to be able to give them a real piece of her mind.
"Theodynn was fine! He was actually holding his own impressively well," Ottan argued. "It was just an unfortunate circumstance there at the end…"
Aura whipped around the room, and Ottan wisely shut up.
"Someone threw him! He was knocked unconscious, Ottan. He could have broken his neck!"
"He chose to…"
"DON'T." Keyda held up a warning hand, and Ottan shut up once again. "I know what you do. It's the same thing you did to Cole all those years ago. You trapped Theo in a corner and he felt like he had to fight in that awful death pit!"
"He wouldn't have died! I would have intervened had it…"
"Would you have? Because I was told his bodyguard had to get involved to stop the fight while Theo was just lying on the ground because the attackers weren't backing off."
Ottan was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he scowled. "I was about to call off the fight," he argued softly.
"People die in your stupid events all the time," Keyda accused. "I should have called a stop to them years ago. How dare you put my son in there, knowing the risk!"
"You can't protect Theodynn forever!" Ottan argued back, arms folded. "Bad enough you kept him locked up in that fortress when he was a boy. He's a man now, Keyda. You cannot continue to make all his decisions…"
"Do NOT tell me how to raise my son!"
Keyda's hair started to whip around in the aural winds, and Tobias shrunk down further into his chair. Even Ottan looked like he was resisting the urge to step backward.
"Retrevan had to come and tell me that he left Theodynn here at your fortress, unconscious, because you had insisted that he fight in the Pit. I think I'm perfectly within my right as Ruler to ban any further competitions."
Ottan's eyes glittered dangerously. "I can see that you're thinking about this emotionally, considering that Theodynn was injured today. I would ask you don't make a decision in this state, however. Bring it up at the next leadership meeting…once all of this has had time to blow over."
"I wouldn't bet on it going in your favor, no matter how long we wait," Keyda threatened softly, and Ottan scoffed. He moved to leave the room, his body language betraying his fury even though his expression was calm.
"Yes, I allowed Theodynn and this ambassador to fight in the Pit," he murmured angrily. "The Heir might even have a few bruises from the experience. But I am not the one who locked him up, remember. From what I have heard, those scars on his wrists were given to him by the very people who sent you this buffoon. If you need someone to punish, perhaps they would be more culpable candidates."
He gestured to Tobias, who reddened. Then, with a swish of his sniffer-fur cape, the Southern leader disappeared out the door.
There was silence in the room apart from a fire crackling in a fireplace, and Keyda glared at the door that Ottan had disappeared through. After a minute, Tobias cleared his throat and the Ruler turned her murderous gaze to him.
"I…have to say I feel absolutely terrible about everything that's happened."
Keyda held up a hand to cut him off. "I do not want to discuss this with you," she said quietly, her eyes still glowing purple. "Honestly, I don't know if the council sent you as a joke or a punishment, but we let this go on too long. My son was injured today because he was too busy trying to protect you to protect himself. That is not what we signed up for when we agreed to an ambassador. If you want to get yourself killed in some brainless stunt, then go right ahead. But you will keep my family out of it."
Tobias blanched while she spoke, and he didn't even get a chance to reply because Keyda stormed from the room.
206
"Bah."
Hershel shook his head. "You can't just bah everything I have to say. I've already told you, I have no reason to lie…"
"Outsiders with yellow skin? Who hold elemental power? Elemental power cannot be wielded by Oni."
"They aren't Oni…they're human," Hershel explained with a sigh. "From a different realm. I could bring them here to meet you."
Iona immediately bristled. "You bring someone here, and I'll wipe their memories of this place. I still have half a mind to erase yours."
"Which is why I'm against the paralysis exercise," Hershel pointed out dryly. "Or anything else you would do to incapacitate me."
She shrugged. "They would give me a good read on how deep these powers go, boy. How they work…how strong they are."
Hershel bundled the herbs he was working with deftly. Iona had insisted that he help out while he was here. He wanted to be irritated, but doing this stirred some old part of himself that he had forgotten about. It reminded him of working beside Phos, he realized. Sure, he still could talk to his Old Master, and he was eternally grateful for that. But there was just something about working side-by-side on the daily chores of life. Working with Pippa had given him a similar feeling, but then she had gone and moved to the North. His fingers paused in their work, his mood dampening at the thought of the family that he was technically not supposed to see.
"What now? Still pitying yourself?"
Hershel glanced up to see Iona fixing him with a patronizing look. He huffed softly. "What do you mean?"
"That's all I ever get from you," Iona pointed out, finishing another bundle herself. "You're full of woe-is-me attitude. Perhaps that's your problem, huh? Selfishness."
He reddened at the accusation. "If I were selfish, I wouldn't have grown up the way I did, constantly putting others before my own needs and wants."
"Just because a person isn't beautiful doesn't mean they can't be vain," Iona cut in, tying another bundle with a flourish. "If they spend all their time thinking about their looks, then their life is full of vanity…no matter what they look like."
Hershel turned to stare at her. "I have no idea what you're going on about," he pointed out, and she smacked him.
"Don't sass me!" she chided. "The reality is that everyone goes through tough things, boy. Everyone's felt alone…everyone's been betrayed. Yet you continue to obsess over the things that have been done to you. What you need to realize is that true satisfaction doesn't come in selfish behaviors."
He was quiet, her words stinging. He could feel the power swirling inside of him, angry and hurt at her accusation. "I've spent a great part of my life helping others," he pointed out softly. "If I'm still considered a selfish person, then I honestly don't know what else I could do to counter that."
"Maybe you did spend all that time helping others…worrying about them. But it seems to me that you reached a point where that wasn't good enough anymore. Where you decided that the only person who really mattered was yourself. That's when you made the decision…the one that led to everything else either falling apart or falling into place. That's where your trouble really began, I'd reckon."
Hershel froze at her words, his hands coming to a standstill on the herbs. He hadn't told her anything specific from his past, only vaguely filling her in on his emotions leading up to the power change. Namely, loneliness, dread, defeat, betrayal...and here she was connecting dots and accusing him of selfish behaviors. She didn't even know what he had been through. But even then…something in what she had just said hit a little too close to home.
"I have no idea what your actual life story is," she went on. "Since you won't just man up and tell me. But I know how selfishness works well enough…" Her expression darkened. "You don't live for centuries without having a few lifetimes worth of experience."
Iona fell silent then, and Hershel found himself longing to hear her life story. But he could sense her wall going up, and knew better than to ask her.
"So….do you think selfishness has to do with me not being able to control my powers?" he finally asked. Iona shrugged as if she couldn't care less.
"No idea. But it rarely helps situations, regardless."
"And what am I supposed to do to combat that? The selfishness, I mean?"
Iona snorted, and she reached over for a bucket. "Why don't you start by filling this up? Well's down on the other side of the village; I'm sure you've seen it at some point.
Hershel didn't know whether to argue or not. He did far more chores here than he did training. And yet, something about her brash nature made him feel more secure than when he was off on his own in his newly moved tent in the Western Province. He and Myrah had finally come to a good spot near the mountain ranges, close enough to a village to make it easy to reach the amenities such as the well and community oven while still being a little aloof. It was a nice place, and he had managed to transport the many boxes of junk as well as the tent itself to the location. The tent was set up, but he hadn't unpacked yet. It was strange how he could have the same tent with the same things inside but have it feel like a completely foreign place now that it wasn't in the same spot that Cole's Guardian had dropped him off at all those decades ago.
"Well?"
He reached out and took the bucket, realizing he hadn't answered Iona. She reached out to knock on his head, causing him to recoil.
"What are you doing?"
"Making sure there's still a brain in there," she responded with a cackle. "You zone out a lot, you know. For someone who's only a few decades old, you sure do possess a lot of qualities of certain tortured past Oni I knew back in my day."
He had no idea how to respond to that, so he moved to take the bucket to the door.
"Have you figured out what the white and golden light means yet?" he asked. "I've consulted my own records, but I haven't found anything."
"Still don't have a clue, boy. Though in general, white aura represents the First Ancients. Which is why it's so peculiar that whatever experiment left you this way changed your aura. There are no more living First Ancients, and it doesn't make sense that someone would have access to their power at any rate."
Hershel's words were barely audible as he left. "Yeah…peculiar."
He made his way down the steep, carved steps and across the village square. Oni stared at him less now, and a few children had even taken to following him and asking him questions. The little boy from before was one of the most curious of the bunch; perhaps the fact that he had already survived a run-in with the "ghost-man" gave him the confidence he needed for further interactions.
"Hey, ghost-man!"
Hershel winced slightly at the nickname. He wasn't sure if Furgeson's assumption had spread to the village, or if everyone had come to the conclusion themselves. He only heard the name in whispers among the adults, but the children had no qualms about shouting at him. Children were like that.
"Hello, Dune," he said as he made his way to the well. The child's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
"You know my name?!"
Hershel smiled. The boy had to be around Pippa's age, and he reminded Hershel of his niece.
"I heard your friend call you the other day," he reminded. He had reached the well, and he began deftly tying the bucket onto the rope. Dune blinked.
"Oh." He kicked a pebble and watched it skip across the sand. "Are you Iona's new apprentice?"
The rope slipped from Hershel's grip and the bucket crashed against the wall of the well before he managed to grab the rope again. Dune blinked.
"Are you?"
Hershel couldn't help but chuckle a little. "She wishes," he finally replied, glancing at the child. Dune frowned.
"If you aren't her apprentice, then why are ya always doing what she says?"
Hershel shook his head as he pulled the bucket of water up to the surface."It's part of our deal; she's helping me, and I'm helping her."
Dune frowned up at him. His dark brown hair was thick and straight, and full of dust. "Can you help me?"
The pale man looked back down at him. "With what?"
"I'm s'posed to get the water today, but I forgot my bucket."
Hershel studied the young boy as Dune twisted a foot in the dirt.
"Then perhaps you should go and get it," he pointed out. The child pouted.
"But you're already getting Iona's water…" he whined, and Hershel sighed. He wanted to point out that he was only getting Iona's water in the hope that she would actually have him do something that would lead to better control, but the small boy had his eyes wide, the same way Pippa did when she wanted something. Hershel finally hefted the bucket.
"Where do you live?" he asked softly, and the boy beamed.
"Thanks, ghost-man!"
"My name is Hershel," the healer explained dryly, and the boy looked sheepish.
"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know."
Hershel raised an eyebrow, still waiting for the boy to direct him to where the bucket of water was going.
"Where do you live?" he asked again, and the boy blinked.
"Oh. The water's not for my family."
The pale man's brow furrowed. "Then who is it for?"
Rather than respond, the boy motioned for Hershel to follow him. He did so, both irritated and curious. They wove between market stalls, with Hershel muttering apologies as he tried not to run into anyone. The boy was obviously not thinking about how the man following him was a lot larger and thus could not just sneak through every tiny opening like he did. Though, Hershel mused, if he were a ghost, it would be a lot easier. Perhaps that is why Dune didn't bother waiting.
They made it through the crowd, and Hershel tried not to think about the people staring at him. Dune was disappearing up a narrow rocky alley, and Hershel followed suit.
"Who is this for?" he tried again, a little louder, but Dune had already disappeared into a small hovel back behind a few others. The pale healer paused outside the curtain door, not sure if he should just follow or not. As he waited, he realized how much quieter this corner was. His eyes fell on the cloth door and he paused; the cloth was painstakingly embroidered with tiny poppy flowers.
"Dune?" he tried, but the child didn't answer. Hershel sighed and pushed himself through the detailed doorway. The inside of this home was dimmer than Iona's. Since it was back behind a few other homes, it was blocked from direct sunlight. The interior was small but tidy, and Dune was moving the large water bowl to the table.
"You just put the water in here," he instructed, and Hershel glanced around.
"Who's home is this?"
"The…"
Dune's reply was cut off as someone came up out of a back room. Hershel looked over to see a young woman, and for a moment he thought it was Blist. But then he realized that this woman was younger, and her hair was shorter. And where Blist usually emanated distrust or anger, this woman was filled with fear.
"Hello, Haiven!" Dune called shyly. "We brought you some water; it was my family's turn for tribute today."
Her eyes flicked over to the boy, and then back to Hershel. The healer froze on instinct, as if he were in the presence of a skittish hoofer colt. Dune noticed the young woman's gaze and shifted from side to side.
"Oh, don't mind him. He's just the ghos…um…" He trailed off, and looked back up at his pale helper. "I don't remember you name…" he whispered nervously, and Hershel finally unfroze. When he spoke, he addressed the shy woman rather than the young child.
"My name is Hershel," he offered. "I'm training with Iona…"
He had hoped that the mention of the village healer and guardian—as he had come to know Iona to be—would set the frightened young woman at ease. But instead she stiffened, her mistrust increasing.
"Shhhh!" Dune chastised angrily, as if Hershel had broken some law that everyone else knew about. Hershel flushed slightly, not sure why the mention of the Ancient Xinta had put everyone on edge.
"Do you want the water here?" he tried, gesturing to the bowl. The young woman didn't answer. She had looked away now, and part of her straight brown hair covered her face like a shield. It was shorter than most Oni's, with the front just brushing her shoulders and the back cut even shorter than that. As he waited for her to answer, he noticed a light-colored streak in the hair that hung in front of her eye.
"Just pour the water," Dune hissed. Hershel finally moved to dump the water into the bowl while the silent girl retreated back into the room that she had come from. Dune grabbed Hershel's hand, which surprised him, and the child yanked him out of the house.
"Why did you have to be so mean?" the boy asked him softly, and the healer scowled down at him.
"I didn't do anything! You asked me to bring the water for you," he reminded coldly. "If you wanted it done a certain way…"
"You made Haiven feel bad," Dune interrupted, as if Hershel should have known better and was thus culpable. Hershel shook his head.
"For bringing water?"
"You mentioned Iona, and how you're her new apprentice," the child pointed out.
"I didn't say I was her apprentice…"
"You said you were training with her which is basically like being her apprentice!" Dune snapped, and Hershel exhaled slowly.
"And that made her feel bad…why?"
"Because everyone knows that Haiven used to be her apprentice, before…" Dune immediately stopped talking, his mouth snapping shut. Hershel frowned, his curiosity piqued.
"Before what?"
"Nothing," the child said meekly. "Gotta go!"
He scampered off, disappearing between a gap between two homes before Hershel could ask anything else. He had half a mind to follow the boy, but he sensed someone behind him. He turned to see Blist glowering at him, pointing her spear in his direction.
"What are you doing over here?" she demanded, and Hershel turned slowly. A lot of good that spear would do her, if she attacked. He hoped that she wouldn't be so stupid. When Hershel didn't answer, Blist bristled.
"Why are you at my house?"
"So it is your house," Hershel murmured. "I assumed as much."
That didn't seem to make her feel any better. Her eyes narrowed as she took a step closer.
"What do you want?"
The woman's bravado was mixed with fear, he knew. What dastardly thing did she think he was planning, standing outside her home with a water bucket?
"I was helping Dune bring water to your sister," he explained softly.
"Haiven? You spoke to Haiven?"
So, they were sisters, Hershel mused. They resembled each other, though Blist was obviously a few years older. Her hair was longer and darker than her sister's, and the top was pulled back tightly. Both sisters had slight frames, but Blist was taller. At the mention of her younger sister, Blist's hands tightened on her weapon.
"How dare you go into my house and scare her!"
How did she know Hershel had scared her? "I was merely bringing the water," Hershel repeated calmly, though he could feel the power stirring. It was becoming a common enough occurrence now that he almost didn't notice it anymore. As if being filled with a righteous injustice was the normal way to react to people who didn't seem to like him. It was bad enough it was happening, and it scared him that he was becoming de-sensitized to it.
"I'll tell Iona about this!" Blist snapped. "She should have kicked you out long ago. This will be enough to get you thrown out for good."
For bringing water?! Hershel wished someone would actually explain what on earth he had done wrong. Feeling annoyed with the situation, he decided to take it up with the old Xinta himself. But since Blist seemed determined to block his path, he merely flashed out of the alleyway and into the woman's home.
Iona looked up in surprise.
"There you are…making your fancy entrance. Rubbing it in that you're somehow exempt from normal spell law."
Hershel set the bucket down, and the xinta's frown deepened as she came over.
"You've been gone long enough to have fetched water three or four times…and you bring back an empty bucket. I'm beginning to be concerned about your mental health."
"I was helping Dune bring water to Haiven." Iona froze, and Hershel raised an eyebrow. "So…what's her story? It seems that…"
"You know your problem? You don't mind your own business."
"Really? An hour ago my problem was that I only was obsessed with my own business. I thought that I would maybe take your advice and worry about others."
Iona looked up and glared at him, and he knew that perhaps he wasn't going to get any answers today after all.
207
Theo stared at the papers on his desk with a sigh. It seemed his parents had saddled him with enough safe responsibilities to last him the rest of the week. He wondered cynically if his mother was hoping that Tobias would be dead or gone by that point.
He dipped his pen in the ink pot to get started on the first few messages. A knock on his door provided him with the excuse he needed to push the papers aside.
"Come in!"
His office was small enough that he really didn't need to yell in order for people to hear him, but it made him feel a little more official. The handle turned and Theo felt a wash of anxiety as a mustached face poked in.
"Hello, Prince Theo. I…was wondering if you had a moment to talk."
Theodynn just stared for a moment before clearing his throat. "Um, sure, Tobias. Come on in."
The ambassador looked relieved and he came in quickly and took a seat across from Theo. The Heir rubbed his nose but kept his tone cordial.
"How are you healing up?" he asked, looking at Tobias's black eye. Another bruise could be seen on his collarbone, and Theo knew there were others spotting the ambassador's body. He had a few nasty bruises himself.
"Oh, just fine. Definitely been in worse scrapes, I assure you. Bruises heal, you know."
Theo just nodded, though his gaze dropped back to the papers on his desk. Tobias cleared his throat awkwardly.
"But…I understand that I crossed a line with that pit fight yesterday. You asked me not to participate and I didn't listen. It seems you've been quite concerned with my own safety…and I apologize that I've been making life rather difficult for you."
Tobias squirmed a little in his seat, and Theo frowned. He had never had an adult act so uncomfortable around him.
"I'm not used to it," the man finally admitted.
"Used to what?"
"To…people caring what I do. I mean, people generally care about what I do. I've been called buffoon and idiot and all sorts of other names in my life, and I don't mind as much as I probably should. As fickle as people are, I've long since learned that there's no point in letting others get in the way of my own personal adventures."
Theo just stared, not really sure what Tobias wanted him to say.
"Um…I'm sorry for getting in the way of your adventures," he finally tried. "I won't be following you around anymore, so…"
Tobias cut him off by waving his hands in the negative. "No, Prince Theo. I wasn't trying to suggest that you were getting in the way. I merely meant to apologize for getting you injured yesterday. I know you probably would have done just fine if you weren't so worried about me. Which you didn't need to be; I went into the event knowing that I was most likely going to get pounded."
"What?" Nothing that this man even said made sense. "If you knew you were going to get thumped…why did you agree to do it? Actually, you asked to do it…"
"Experience!" Tobias said, putting a hand on his heart with a grin. "I could have just watched a pit fight…but the experience of actually being part of it—even if it meant being knocked out by a burly brute—is something that I could never relive or replace. Culture is best learned in the middle of the action, as they say."
Theo wasn't really sure who Tobias thought he was quoting, but he was strangely touched that the man who had caused him so much grief the past week actually had enough self-awareness to apologize. He had to admit, Tobias did seem genuinely sorry.
"It's alright, Tobias," Theo finally said, giving the man a little smile. "I have wanted to fight in the Pit for a long time. I was…maybe a little too easy to convince into it."
Tobias laughed at that; his usual brash guffaw.
"I have had many a similar situation," he confided. But his smile faded as he tugged on his mustache. "I…believe I have really angered your parents, however. Your situation caused them undue worry, and I must take responsibility for the fact that your injury was because of my actions."
Theo rubbed the bump on the back of his head.
"Well…yeah, I think we triggered momma bear. I'm sorry for whatever my mom said to you back at Ottan's fortress; I mean, I don't know exactly how the conversation went, but I can imagine."
Tobias laughed again, but more soberly. "She was not happy."
Theo couldn't help but laugh at that, and Tobias joined in. The anxiety knotted in Theo's chest had lessened.
"So, did you just come to apologize?" Theo finally asked, and Tobias nodded.
"Yes. Well…and to ask you for another chance."
Theodynn leaned forward.
"Another chance for what?"
Tobias gave him a sheepish grin beneath his mustache.
"I must admit that I enjoyed our adventures. Nothing like traveling with a youth to make me feel years younger…as well as the fact that there are still far too many things I don't know about your realm. I would like another chance to travel with you…and I promise, this time I will take your counsel into consideration."
Theo was surprised; he didn't really think that the perky ambassador cared either way.
"Um…"
"I understand that you aren't really willing to jump back onto the adventure with old Tobias Bentworth; I can rarely keep adventure companions for more than a few weeks. Though, a serpentine named Bobbodon did travel Ninjago with me for a few months, but I think it was because he was deaf and had no idea what was going on ninety percent of the time…"
"It's not…I mean," Theo cut in. "My parents just…don't feel comfortable with me showing you around anymore. At least, not without their supervision…"
"Superb idea, Prince Theo!" Tobias cut in, jumping to his feet. "We should invite you parents to come along. What better way to make amends with the royal family than to go somewhere all together?"
Theo had stood as well, a little bit of panic setting in. "That's not what I…"
"I have the perfect outing!" the Ambassador cut in with a triumphant point to the sky. "Tomorrow I'm headed to meet the other side of the realm, and I feel that it would be ideal to be with the entire royal family. I myself do not speak dragon, as the rest of you do, and it would be wise to have a translator."
Theo's eyes widened.
"Wait, no! Tobias, you can't just go visit the dragons…"
"But there is a union!" Tobias argued, his brow furrowing. "And the City Council was adamant that I report on both sides of that union, so I must meet with them eventually."
"But…they aren't exactly friendly with strangers, Tobias. They won't appreciate you just showing up!"
Tobais stared at Theo, his expression making it clear that he didn't understand why Theo wasn't getting it.
"That is exactly why I think I should bring you and your parents with me, Theodynn. The dragons trust you…so they will in turn trust me."
"It's a really bad idea," Theo argued, giving him a hard look. Tobias just frowned.
"But I have to meet them at some point," he confessed. "The council was depending on it."
It was exhausting trying to talk this man out of anything, Theo decided. He finally sighed. "Why don't you talk to my parents about it," he suggested. "If they agree, then…"
"Right! That's just what I'll do!" The man made his way to the door, tugging at his mustache with one last grin. "Looking forward to traveling with you again!"
The door closed, and Theo sat for a few minutes, wondering what the odds were of his parents actually agreeing to the ambassador's crazy plan.
"Selfish?" Myrah turned from where she was putting bottles on a shelf, her nose wrinkling. Hershel wasn't sure if her disgust was from the oozing contents in the vials she was handling or at their conversation. "Why would you think you're selfish?" she demanded.
Hershel glanced up from where he was rifling through another box. The Western Leader had stopped by that morning insisting that he unpack. Myrah seemed to believe that he was never going to feel at home here if everything he owned remained packed away in boxes. He had to admit she had a point.
"In our conversations, that's what Iona has come up with…the reason I'm struggling with control."
Myrah scoffed angrily.
"Hershel…you are not selfish. You can't take her word for it, either—she doesn't even know you!"
He didn't answer, pulling out the box full of clear crystals. He looked down at them and couldn't help but think of the exercise he had done. Brown…then bronze. Two flashes. Shattering.
"I don't want to believe her," he finally admitted, putting the box on the shelf before going to pull out the rest of the odds and ends. "But the things she said were hitting close to home. Truth makes pride hurt, doesn't it?"
"Lies can make pride hurt just as much," Myrah argued back. She wiped her hands on a cloth, having successfully emptied another dusty box. "What exactly did she say, Hershel? Just that you were a selfish person? I don't understand how she could know you at all and still draw that conclusion. How much of your past have you told her?"
He paused. "I haven't really talked about it," he finally admitted.
"You haven't even told her about yourself, and selfishness is her first judgment of you?"
He could feel Myrah's anger, though he knew it wasn't geared towards him.
"She doesn't want my life story; she's told me numerous times. I suppose it's just what she could sense in me."
"And you're choosing to believe her? Even when you know she doesn't know anything about you?"
Myrah had come over now, and she grabbed his hand so he'd look at her. Her hair was up today, most likely so it wouldn't get in the way during all the cleaning and unpacking. It didn't matter much how she wore it, though. He found her beautiful regardless.
"She reminds me of Archtivus," he admitted quietly, as if that explained everything. Myrah shook her head angrily.
"Archtivus knew you…raised you. I don't think he would find you selfish," she countered. Hershel thought about the decisions he had made over the past months and had to beg to differ; no doubt Phos would label many of his decisions as selfish, if given the chance. Myrah squeezed his hand to bring his attention back to her. "This woman didn't even know that the union's been in place for decades…she refuses to believe you when you tell her the truth. How can you believe anything she says about you, when she can't even be bothered to get to know you? From what you've told me, Hershel…you aren't the one being selfish."
He smiled then. Myrah had a way of soothing the anxiety and fear that continued to knot inside him. When she was with him, he found himself believing that everything really would work out in the end. She slid her arms around his waist, pulling him close as she murmured to him.
"You aren't selfish, Hershel. You've spent so many years helping others…healing them. And perhaps you could say that I don't know you very well either, but even so, selfish is the last word that I'd use to describe you. A selfish person wouldn't have healed Heavy Metal for free. He wouldn't have agreed to train a group of healers that he didn't want to teach in exchange for weapons for his brother in law. He wouldn't be so concerned about gaining control in order to protect me…"
Hershel relaxed at her words, and Myrah searched his face.
"Why do you have to always believe the worst about yourself?" she finally asked, and he looked away.
"I don't…"
"You do. You're so willing to believe every negative thing people throw at you. That you're useless…or selfish…or out of control. You should know yourself better than anyone, Hershel. You should be on your own side. Who is it you want to be?"
Her question surprised him, and he spent a few minutes thinking about it.
"I want to be free…but I also want to help. To be useful. To…love."
He murmured the last word, his hand coming to rest on the back of her neck. She smiled up at him.
"Then that's you," she pointed out simply. "That's the true Hershel…the one you've been fighting to become. Kind, helpful, gentle…and loving. That's the Hershel I knew before all of this…and the only real change is that you weren't free before. But now, you are."
"But I hurt others in the effort to gain that freedom," he reminded. "Iona told me that I must have reached a point when helping wasn't enough…that I decided that I was the only person that mattered in my life. That I made a decision to start living for myself…"
"No one can live entirely for other people and be happy, Hershel." Myrah's tone was more commanding now, full of the authority that she had been raised to wield. "You doing something for yourself does not make you a selfish person. You wanted to be free. That doesn't mean that you stopped caring for anyone…it doesn't mean that you didn't think that anyone else mattered. It just means that you weren't satisfied pleasing everyone but yourself. Once you found your freedom, you came back for your niece and your family. And…me."
Myrah kissed him, though he could tell she was still self-conscious in doing so. The power inside was happy that she was siding with it; it had been sulking ever since Iona had given her judgement. Or…Hershel had been sulking. It was hard to tell what was him and what was the power, or if the power was really even different than him. Maybe it was just in his head…
"Thanks, Myrah," he murmured as she pulled back. She smiled, but he could feel something else in her feelings now. He wasn't sure whether to call it fear or regret, and his own smile faded. "Are you alright?"
"You believed her, when she said you were selfish," she reminded, her eyes searching his. "That moment she mentioned…when you started living for yourself. Was that me?"
He was shocked by the question, and she rushed to explain.
"I don't believe her, but you clearly did. Do you regret falling in love with me? Everything it's cost you…"
"No." He fixed her with a serious expression, one she no doubt had come to know. "How could I ever regret loving someone?" he asked softly. "You aren't my selfish decision, Myrah. Maybe it was the first thing I had ever sought for myself…but that decision still affected me more than anyone else. I made that decision knowing that I was the only one who would suffer if it went badly."
She was feeling guilty now, which hadn't been his intention. Myrah's eyes dropped to the floor. "Which it did. Because of me."
"No. Because of Imgloss, and Bula. And foolish rules."
The Western Leader didn't seem entirely convinced, but she looked back up at him as she spoke again. "If you don't think I made you selfish, what is it you're afraid of? What moment is Iona talking about?"
Hershel's jaw clenched, and he knew his eyes were flashing. Myrah didn't back away, however. She was the only one who didn't seem to notice these internal battles. Or perhaps she really just didn't care—didn't see them as anything that should be feared.
"When I left to confront Imgloss," he finally admitted, forcing the power's defensive feelings away. "I knew that he could have killed me. I knew what he could do to my family if he did…what he could possibly do to the realm. But in that moment, nothing else really mattered."
Myrah stiffened in his arms. "Killed you? I thought you went to Imgloss to ask him to take you to the Island."
"That is what happened, in the end," Hershel admitted softly. "But initially, I went because I was tired of waiting for him to carry out his plans against me. I was tired of being blind…of being a prisoner. So, I confronted him and asked him to release me in one way or another."
It was a confession he hadn't told anyone yet. His face burned with shame as he felt Myrah's horror. "Hershel…"
"I was in a dark place," he murmured, not meeting her eye. "I wasn't alone…but it felt like it. Like I was sinking deeper and deeper. That's what Iona meant…what she could sense. That moment where I didn't care what anyone else thought or how my decisions would affect them. Because if I did, of course I would have realized that Syn would be hurt and furious, that Tolan would feel betrayed…that Pippa would be targeted…"
The power shifted, uncomfortable with the confession. Myrah continued to emit horror, and he felt a hand on his face. "He could have killed you. And…you would have just let him?" Her words were hollow, and Hershel stared at the cold fireplace so he wouldn't have to see the expression that went with the feelings.
"I couldn't have done anything, if he had wanted to," he finally admitted. A spur of anger flashed off of her then, though Hershel wasn't sure if it was toward him or Imgloss.
"But he didn't," she finally realized. "I would have thought he would have…"
"He was more amused than anything," Hershel explained, his nose wrinkling in disgust at the memory. "Pleased that I had reached such a low point. He told me that all healers felt like that—trapped, imprisoned…but that the ancients especially were bored. That's when I realized that this whole organization was moot. It was already doomed to die off, and I didn't understand why we should be bound in the meantime. So we made plans to destroy it."
Myrah didn't say anything; no doubt she was still trying to process everything that he had said. He gently pulled himself from her embrace, and she allowed him to as he walked over to make a fire. He continued to speak as he knelt and reached for the fire-starting stones.
"But it wasn't enough for me to just have the healers agree. I knew I wouldn't get my sight or my powers back unless I appeased the First Ancients. That's why I asked him to take me to the Island…why I went to that whole forsaken place at all. I just wanted the chance to ask them to take my punishment from me."
Sparks shot out from his flint, causing little tendrils of smoke to creep up from the tinder. After a few unsuccessful attempts, he finally sighed and sent a shot of aura into the kindling to start a small blaze.
"That was my selfish decision, Myrah. That's when I started living for myself…when I knew that seeing Imgloss and disappearing to the island would cause the people I loved to suffer. But I didn't even bother telling them where I was…I didn't care. All I cared about was getting my sight and my powers back."
Myrah didn't say anything, but he could hear her coming over. He was still kneeling, staring into the fire, and he felt her arms wrap around him from behind.
"It's like you said," she finally tried. "You were in a dark place. But that doesn't make you a villain. One decision made at your lowest moment does not make you a selfish person, Hershel. Desperate, perhaps…but not selfish."
She was murmuring in his ear, and he reached up to grab her hand. Hershel could tell she was still taken aback from everything he had finally confided in her, but she didn't hate him. A weight he didn't realize he was carrying eased itself from his mind and he sighed in relief. Myrah moved to kneel down next to him, so they could look each other in the eyes.
"I don't trust this Iona woman," she finally explained. "I don't care if she's an Ancient Xinta…I wouldn't even care if she was a First Ancient. She cannot know you if she won't let you share your story, and she can't judge you if she doesn't know you. You seem to believe that she can help you, but I don't think you need that kind of help."
He pondered that for a minute, and Myrah continued softly.
"That person you said you want to be…if that's the true Hershel, then when do you feel most like that? When do you feel most like yourself?"
"The true Hershel," he mumbled, thinking about it. He looked over, his pale eyes staring into her dark ones. "With you, I know who I am, and who I want to be."
"Then you should trust my opinion of you," she argued. "If you're yourself around me…"
He chuckled. "I do trust you," he tried. "And I feel like myself around Phos as well…and Pippa. And strangely, I feel more like myself around Iona, as cranky and bias as she may be."
Myrah scowled at that. "How can someone that berates and uses you make you feel like yourself?"
Hershel shrugged. "It reminds me of being Phos's apprentice," he realized. "She isn't Phos…and I'm not her apprentice. But working alongside her, looking to her for help…it's reminding me what life used to be like."
"What did life used to be like?" she demanded softly. She seemed irritated, and he smiled to set her at ease.
"Simpler."
"Mmm…so you do regret how your life has turned out then? I've made everything too complicated? If a cranky, rude old lady can make you feel the same way I can…"
He laughed then, and she looked puzzled at his amusement.
"I only meant that there are certain times that help me connect with myself. When I almost forget that there's some power inside that doesn't quite fit in with everything else. But nobody can make me feel the way you do, Myrah. You don't need to have doubts about that."
She relaxed then, and he wondered how someone as confident as she was could be jealous of anyone. She leaned into him as they watched the fire together. He had lit it so that he could get a kettle going for tea, but now found that he didn't want to move. He wrapped an arm around her, feeling content.
"So do you feel like you're any closer?" she finally asked. "Is this eccentric woman helping with her bad advice?"
Hershel hesitated. "I don't know," he admitted. "I need help figuring out how to stop fighting with the power inside of me all the time."
"And how do you know she can help you, if she hasn't so far?"
"I still think she can," the healer admitted carefully. "But…I have to be willing to trust her with more."
Myrah turned to frown at him. "But she doesn't want to know your life story," she reminded, and Hershel nodded.
"No. But she does want to try other exercises…things that will leave me more vulnerable than I would like. I have to figure out how to let her inside without leaving myself completely helpless."
"I don't like the sound of that," Myrah warned, and he smiled.
"I won't let her get too close…and she won't let me just talk about it. So we're at an impasse. I think it's possible for me to make progress, but one or both of us is going to have to give up some ground."
"I don't think I want you giving up more ground with this Ancient," Myrah pointed out. "I doubt she has your best interests in mind…not if she thinks you're lying about everything and calling you selfish…"
Once again, the power inside thrummed its agreement and Hershel sighed. "I'll have to figure it out," he finally offered, and Myrah was quiet from her place lying on his shoulder. They held hands, neither seeming to want to move to unpack any more.
"I don't know what I would do without you," he murmured into her hair.
"Life would be simpler without me," she reminded. He tsked.
"That's not the kind of simple I'm looking for," he argued.
"Then what is it you're looking for?"
There was a soft challenge in her words, and Hershel rubbed her hand. "Freedom…love…control. Fulfilling my role as a healer without the unnecessary rules. Having a good relationship with my family."
His last sentence was the softest, and he felt Myrah move on his shoulder so she could kiss the side of his head.
"You know what you want," she pointed out. "That's the first step to achieving anything."
Hershel watched the orange and yellow flames dance in the small fireplace as he considered that.
"Then it's high time I figure out the next step."
27
