When they arrived at Al Mamoon- or the oasis of it- it was midday. They decided to practice more before entering the city for the safety of the citizens. Instead of practicing guns, his pupil had decided on magic practice.
"Why magic all of a sudden," Swaine wondered as she picked up a stick and drew runes.
"I figured if I'm going back soon, I might as well practice," she grunted as she drew another healing rune with the stick. She smirked at him. He sat on a log, writing something in a notebook. "What are you writing?"
"Well… I figured you wouldn't want to stop practicing with that gun of yours after. Plus you won't have much practice in town." He smiled down at the book. "I figured you'd want a list of formulae of all the trick pellets I use." He wagged the charcoal pencil back at her cautiously. "Just don't use these on people or innocent animals, you hear?"
Her eyes lit up as she looked at him. She gasped happily. "You mean it? You really will?" When he nodded, she gave a fist pump, gripping the stick. "I promise to use them with care." She went back to mock casting spells.
"I'm trusting you, Lynnea," he stated somberly. She stopped again and looked at him. He had stopped writing to watch her. "These shots, some of them have taken me years to perfect." He lowered his head and bobbed it up and down in consideration. He looked back and hesitantly gripped the book. "I don't feel like this technology should be blindly given away. Either it dies with me or I pass it on to someone who I trust it with."
"Why not my father," she indicated as she drew another rune in the air. "You two were always so close."
He looked down as he remembered the giant hog tank he and his comrades had fought twenty-three years ago. He recalled one of the guards- Hogarth, his name was- having one of his unfinished plans.
"I told you, he was just doing a favor," he recalled his brother telling him when he had poked at the situation. He recalled being furious with him for attempting to copy his gun- no one should have it. It was a forbidden tool in his eyes- a tool only worthy of him. Then there was her: Lynnea. She never saw the plans. She just heard how it worked and managed to build one very similar to his original design.
"I asked him to have the engineering division finish the design and- if they could- build the gun as a victory present upon your return, brother," he had revealed to the then angered older brother. He remembered feeling really crappy about it at that moment. He had explained how dangerous it was to create such a weapon- how he didn't want it mass produced. If there weren't any others there couldn't be any copycat thieves. That he had especially made clear to his little brother. He looked up at the still practicing Lynnea. "How'd you know how to build it- the pickpocketing gun," he wondered.
"Hmm? My gun? Well, it was really simple. I took the designs for a regular pellet gun then I pieced together what you said your gun could do." She tilted her head in thought and pursed her lips. She breathed out heavily. "Before I knew it I was taking scrapped parts of pistols and making a spring-loaded claw." She looked over at him with a slightly disappointed look. "Sadly, the first couple of models were utter failures. They broke on the first test." She smirked as she looked down at her large pocket. "The gun I have is the first working model of my original design."
"Don't you dare let the engineering division copy it," he recalled his younger self-ordering the then twenty-four-year-old. He remembered his brother looking him the eye, sniffing out the lack of trust in his older sibling. "You don't trust me, do you," he asked him. "Why in the world would I do something like that? I gave Hogarth express orders to have them burn any rough drafts when they were through with the final one." He bit his lip and licked it afterward in thought at the memory. He remembered Marcassin smiling at him ever so slightly. "It's your invention- unique to only you. It's only been modified, that's all." He took out the Cad's Cannon and looked down at it as he thought of its predecessor. "It is what I recognize you by now, brother. For that reason, I shall not fail your trust."
She laughed and continued to practice her spells, her notebook open on the ground. "That's not right," she heard him say. She turned her head to look at him again. She was taken aback by what she saw, a tear running down his left eye. "You alright?"
He reared his head back in confusion. He blinked for a moment and sniffed. He wiped his face with his coat. He nodded with a sad smile. "Just old memories." He frowned as she drew the rune again. "But your spell. You're doing it wrong."
"Huh…? No," she started. "I'm doing it right. This is it." She looked down at the book then back at him. "This is how it's drawn."
He snapped the book shut. "It isn't." He got up and walked over to her and they both stood in front of the lake formed by the spring. He held his hand out for the stick. To his surprise, she handed him her actual wand. "Er… I asked for your stick."
She glanced up pointedly with her eyes. "You have no magic. It might as well be a stick," she responded.
He shrugged his shoulders and smirked. "Cheeky little thief," he teased as he weighed the wand in his hand. "You're looking at the man who taught your father most of his old magic tricks!" He raised it and began to draw the rune. "I know a thing or two, you know." It appeared to them, glowing. "See this," he began, pointing at the final line in the symbol. "It's in the wrong place: it can't be Healing Touch." He erased it by swiping the wand through the drawing.
"You can cast spells," she exclaimed. "I thought-"
He tilted his head and tapped his foot as he glared at her with crossed arms. "I can only muster enough energy to draw the rune. There isn't enough there to cast." He let his hands fall and flop to his sides. "Given what you've told me, there's a chance that even with the correct symbol, it won't work."
"I know," she began. "But I have to try."
"Good." He looked back at the book and bent over to pick it up. "Have you used this before," he wondered as he gestured to it.
"It made my arm mush," she replied with a wince. She instinctively held her left arm as she looked at the symbol.
He took out his pencil and crossed out the word "Healing" and wrote another word above it: "Malignant". He looked over at her with a proud grin. "Congratulations… You've invented a new spell."
"I- I did," she chirped as she looked at the book.
He nodded back at her and flipped to a blank page. He drew a new rune, similar to that of what used to be Healing touch. He tapped it with the rear of the pencil. "This," he started to correct, "Is Healing Touch." He put the book down and put his pencil up. He took the wand again and drew it in the air to show her. He drew the other symbol, malignant touch, as a comparison. He turned to her with both eyebrows raised. "See," he said as he waved towards the spells. "Entirely different."
She observed them, analyzed them. She nodded when the symbols faded, the energy spent. She gasped in horror when she saw him cutting his palm with a small knife. "What are you doing," she shouted.
"Giving you something to practice Healing Touch on," he said as he dropped the blade. He winced as the hot air came in contact with the wound. He threw her wand back at her. "If it doesn't work, don't worry. I've got plenty of healing potions." He tilted his head confidently.
"You-," she started, pointing at him with her wand. "-Are a crazy old man!" She paced and shook her head.
"Yeah, yeah. Could you hurry? I'm getting blood everywhere," he said through gritted teeth.
"Who's fault is that," she threw at him. She shook her head again and took her wand up and drew the symbol. She flung it down to cast the spell. The wound didn't heal. He was still bleeding. "Oh flip, oh hell. Dammit, what do I do," she began to panic, gripping her hair.
"Calm down. Healing potions- they're in the bag," he said calmly despite his injury, raising his left hand in front of him.
She ran to the bag and dug through it, pulling out a vial of sage's secret. She ran back and handed it to him. As he poured the purple liquid down his throat the wound began to heal and the bleeding stopped. They both breathed a collective sigh of relief.
"Please. Don't do that again," she requested fretfully. He looked away from her. "I'm serious, Uncle Gascon. What if you were mortally wounded? I can't heal you with magic!" She looked down at her hands. "I can't do it," she whispered. "I can't be of any use."
He looked back at her, his expression stern as he considered his next words. He patted her shoulder with his left hand as his look softened. "It's alright if you can't cast healing spells. It won't make you any less of a person, Lynnea." He smiled at her as he rubbed the area where the wound had been. "Esther, you know, the girl with the harp? She can't cast spells without it."
"If only my father could understand that," she sighed as she looked away. She looked back at him when she heard him chuckle.
"You think he'd entrust me with the role of ambassador if he didn't? I can't even cast form familiar!" He placed his hands on his hips and looked down at her. "I know my brother- if there's anything he has always been, it's understanding." He looked down and sighed. "He loves you, you know."
"But I-," she looked at her hands again. "I couldn't meet his expectations."
He shook his head. "You don't need to prove yourself to him! To anyone! How many times do I have to say it," he reamed her. "Do you know what he said he wanted for you the day you were born?" He glared down at her. "He said that he wanted you to be great- just that. If you couldn't be a sage, whatever skills you had- he hoped you'd be great at your craft!" He crossed his arms. "He accepted you the way you were the day you were born. Hell, probably before that!"
He turned away and looked out at the lake glistening in the light of the setting sun. "You should have seen his face. He was so happy that day," he reflected. "He was so worried about you- what you'd be." He let an amused smirk cross his features briefly and a small laugh escape him. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "He even hoped you'd be like me in a way. Isn't that ironic?" He looked down and shook his head with his hands on his hips once more. He turned back to her. "You've met every expectation of his in your power. Now it's time to meet your own."
She could only nod back in silence as she let his words sink in. She had no clue what her own goals really were. She'd find them one day.
He raised a hand and grabbed her right shoulder as he beamed at her. "I know you'll figure it out. You're a smart kid." He let go and jerked his head towards the bag. "Now how about we set up camp and head into town tomorrow. We can even have a campfire."
She brought out Avery and grinned eagerly. "Consider it done!"
She awoke to the sound of splashing and growling. She lifted her head but kept her hood up. She stood, looking for her uncle. She raised a thin eyebrow at the pile of clothes where he had been sleeping the night before. Thankfully, the only thing that seemed to be missing from the pile was his pants.
She walked over to the lake and smirked at the sight. She found her missing mentor playing in the water with a familiar giant fluffy creature.
"Squishy- ack," he playfully protested as the yeti splashed him. It grunted in response and continued to splash its master. "Would you cut it out," he demanded despite his incorrigible grin.
"You're having fun," she observed from the edge. She crouched to watch the scene. His usually fluffy hair had drooped down with water, though it seemed to resist it greatly. Surprisingly, her uncle had little chest hair for a man of his age.
He raised an eyebrow at her with a frown, though she could still see a hint of a smile. "You know it's considered rude- even vulgar- in some cultures for a woman to watch a man bathe," he quipped.
She narrowed her eyes as he splashed back at his familiar. "That doesn't look like bathing."
"Oh shut up," he playfully bit back. He trod the water as he glanced to the side. He blinked and focused on her when he saw her taking her jacket off as well as her leggings. "What are you doing?"
"Joining you two," she answered.
With a sinister smile, he sunk lower so his eyes were only above the water. He slowly but surely inched closer towards his niece. When she almost had her prosthetic arm off he reached up and grabbed her right arm and yanked hard.
"Aaah," she screamed, the fake limb falling off of her. She began to panic when she hit the water, desperately treading as she regained her footing. She spun around to face the now snickering Swaine. "What the hell?" She looked him over. "Are you bloody well insane?! I could have drowned!"
"No, you wouldn't have. That's why I'm here," he let on, grinning cheekily at her. He pushed a wave of water at her and she held up her arm in defense. Squishy bounded up, spraying water on both of them as its paws hit the surface. "Agh! Stop it, boy!"
She laughed and threw water back at his pet… who only slapped the water with its front paws, spraying it all over her. It nuzzled her right arm affectionately. She raised it to pet its head. Suddenly, she was doused with water from behind.
"Good work, Squish'," he praised as he backed away hurriedly.
She turned around with a menacing smile. "You gotta death wish, uncle?" His eyes widened in fear despite his smirk. He bolted away from her, taking advantage of still having all of his limbs. He feared that wouldn't be the case if she caught him. She gave chase and used her right arm to compensate.
"Run! Run, I tell you," he squealed as he swam. "Squishy! Distract her!" He looked back and saw his vengeful niece right behind him. "Why the flipping hell are you so quick," he shouted. "You only have one arm!"
"Why are you? You're just an old man," she shot back at him. She batted her eyes when she realized the sudden lack of light over the water. "SPLASH!" She found herself being cradled by a giant, usually angry looking yeti and being licked. She glared at her now snickering uncle who still treaded away from her.
"Aw, he likes you," he joked. He drew near his pet and his adopted daughter. "Can't catch me now! Squishy's got you pinned," he gloated. He was treated to a splash of water in his face. He squinted his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "Peh," he spat, shaking his head. She scooped up water and trickled it over his head. He stared at her as he wiped his thoroughly soaked hair from his face. "…Why?"
She grinned then broke into a fit of laughter. "Cause it's fun!" She continued to giggle. "Don't suck the fun out of things!"
"I am not," he argued. He used both hands to push a wave of water at her. Both she and Squishy winced.
She shook her head sassily as she stuck her tongue out at him. She raised her arm to shield herself when he sent another splash. She looked up at the Yeti. "You just going to let him treat you like that, Squish'?" It blinked and huffed then looked at its owner.
He saw the look in its eyes and widened his own. He began to back away. "No. No, don't you dare, boy!" When the creature backed away and shook its backside, he began to swim for it. "Ooooh, hell!" It leaped into the air and held the girl tighter with its free arm. When it hit the water, the liquid sprayed everywhere, the waves forcing Swaine closer to the shore. He stood and grabbed his hair to ring it out. "Ooookay," he began. "I'd say that's enough swimming for one morning, eh?" He shook his head and his shoulder-length hair clung to his back as it slowly regained its natural curl. He turned and left the water.
Squishy and Lynnea followed suit, the beast shaking of its fur as soon as it left the water. It carefully set the girl down and she picked up her clothes disappointedly. "Aw. They're damp."
"You'll be in the sun in just a second. No need to worry about that," he stated as he put his on. He whistled and held up the pendant to his familiar. "Time to come back." It leaped up and turned back into a green ball of light.
"Hey…," she began as she put back on her arm, her leggings and shoes already on. "You said you saw my father when I was born. That means you were there."
He paused from straightening up his belt. "Er… Yeah. I had a hand in bringing you into the world, actually." He smiled fondly at the memory. He grabbed his coat and began to throw it on. It was hard to believe she was ever that small, now. She'd grown into quite the pretty young woman despite the misfortune of her left arm.
"You know… you're kind of like a second father to me," she admitted quietly. She turned and smiled at him. "I suppose that explains it, then."
He hummed thoughtfully as he shook his hair again. "Yeah." He grabbed the sack of provisions and walked up to her. He stared into her eyes. "Lynnea. Listen… I promised your mother before you were born to do anything that I could for you." He smirked. "I haven't failed that promise yet. I'll see it through for as long as I can."
"That's- that's your way, isn't it," she remembered. He nodded, smiling sadly again at old memories. "I think I'll adopt that way, too."
He looked down at her in slight shock. "Will you, now?"
She gave a determined nod. "Once I figure out what I'm going to do when I get back, I'm going to do it! I'll see it through!" She grinned up at him. "I'll make you proud, uncle!"
He smiled gently at his niece and patted her on the shoulder. He let go and began to walk towards the desert. She followed suit and they were on their way to Al Mamoon.
I already am…
