NOVEL NEXT 112 - Energy healing Actually Works in this Fantasy World (Kind Of)
Archmund was in a bad mood, and he didn't know why.
Sending Beatrice away had just been business. Business was a dirty matter. Guilt played no role in it. Mixing family and business so often had negative effects.
"Mary," he said. Talking to her often made him feel better.
She didn't respond.
Right. She was still thrashing in her sleep.
"Gemmy, can you analyze her health stats for me?" he said.
"She is likely to survive," the System sprite said. He wasn't sure what Gemmy was, so he was going to keep trying descriptions until one felt right.
"How likely?"
"Almost certain," Gemmy said.
"How likely is she to be permanently crippled by this?"
"Permanent disfiguring or incapacitation are unlikely," Gemmy said.
Was there a trap in those words? She could get injured badly, or get long-term health conditions related to stress the likes of which fantasy-world medical science couldn't dream of. Stuff like endometriosis or eczema or cancer. And those wouldn't be disfiguring. They wouldn't even be that incapacitating for several years.
"How long does she have for there to be a guarantee that she'll survive in full health, no worse than before we came down here?"
"You passed that window roughly two hours ago."
Okay. That wasn't great.
"Is there anything I can do to increase her chances of survival in full health?"
"A magical infusion should be adequate to reduce the odds of further damage. In normal situations, her Hands Off skill would prevent physical contact based attacks to slide off so long as she had the magic to power it, but she was struck by a magical projectile attack, bypassing those defenses. I suggest you more deeply investigate the levels of defense capabilities available to you."
It was a good point. Bodily Barrier could protect him from hazards in the physical world, but he had no idea if it would protect him from poison or psychic attacks or from whatever counted as a "magical" attack, which he presumed must be an intrusion directly into the circuit between the soul and the body. But it was an ablative defense — it stopped things from reaching him. If poison were to slip through his barrier, or a blow so strong that it exhausted all his magic…
Well, that was a matter of scale, of degree. He was reasonably protected from the physical world, as much as he could imagine. What he really needed was to develop stronger magical or mental or spiritual defenses. Whatever that meant. Because he had no frame of reference from his Earth life. He didn't even know what an effective magical or spiritual attack was, though presumably intruding into Mary's soul to purge negative elements counted as one.
He wondered if he was about to do something unforgivable. He'd already sent Beatrice away. Even if it had been an acrimonious parting, he still valued human life and couldn't bare to spill the blood of what little family he had remaining. But Mary would forgive him for interfering in her spirit. She was deeply fond of him.
And frankly, he and Mary already mixed their magic more than was strictly genteel. She'd forgive him if it was to save her life.
In fact, she might enjoy it a bit too much. But if that was the cost of her living, that was fine. He much preferred her alive over dead.
She shuddered in her sleep on the makeshift cot he'd made for her. He could command the miasma of the Dungeon to form into magically-inert objects, and he'd given her sheets and a soft bed. He had never nursed anyone before, and had no idea whether she needed insulating down blankets or thin, breathable linen. But her thrashing had become mere shivering, though her breaths were still hurried.
He sat down on the bed next to her.
"Gemmy, how do I do this?"
"You'll figure it out! It doesn't really matter, as long as you restore her magic!"
That was real helpful. He wondered what Gemmy was actually doing for him.
"If this is possible, then why don't I hear more about other people doing it? Why isn't there a whole discipline of healing centered around direct infusions of magic?"
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"The same reason you can't do direct infusions of blood! And I know you know about blood types!"
He really wished Gemmy would get out of his damn head. That could be another project to work on. Either Gemmy was deeply sinister or he was paranoid, but it was possible that it was already too late since it had sunk its claws into his head and he couldn't do anything about that at this point.
But he understood intuitively. He knew the feeling of trying to push his magic into a Gem claimed by someone else's, how there was an additional resistance. Magic through a "clean" Gem felt like a tickle, as the free-flowing magic was reshaped by the gem's facet into a manifested Enchantment. But forcing magic through someone else's Attuned Gem felt like constipation, as if you had to override the other's magic before yours could have any presence.
He could only imagine it would be worse with the magical flow of a living human, but this was Mary. They had already mingled their magic against all conventional advice, and so they had a unique bond.
He placed his hand on her forehead and marshaled his magic. He saw her magic flowing around her like the magnetic field of the earth. There was a black welt, jagged and deep, like an oil gusher carved into the earth, distorting the flow of her very being about it.
In the eddies and flows of her power, her Gemstone Handfan drifted, a bulwark upon which her magic pooled, spinning adrift in her turbulent soul. And scattered through the flow, glittering with power but individually too insignificant to note, were motes of diamond dust, just barely tapped by her power.
And one more connection: to his Ruby of Energy. The blue of his own magic mingled with the lime green of hers, twisted by the Gem into infrared. Her connection to the Ruby was far dimmer than his, a trickle compared to the force of an ocean.
But it was enough.
He willed his magic to follow that contours, follow that connection-line from his Gem to her soul. Humans had some natural spiritual defenses against direct magical infusions, so he couldn't just force his soul into hers. But he pushed his magic against that fault, forcing it a little wider, hoping not to break something completely. Just a little magic at first, staining the conduit cyan. Then a bit more, and the trickle widened to a brook.
He pulled back, the red magic glinting within the Gem, holding it back, viciously and haltingly, straining to keep it from bursting forth wildly and without abandon, as brutally as he'd usually unleash it. Instead of forcing it outward, he drew it back.
Just enough to flow into her circuit, to rejoin the swirling magic that enveloped her, to reinforce her spirit and overwhelm the dark infection that ailed her.
Enough to aid, without invading entirely. To augment the green of her magical field without staining it blue.
Her breath steadied further
She was stabilized.
Her magical field now looked distinctly bluer. More like his.
No — surely he was imagining things.
That was problem 1 resolved.
Now he could return to his work. He had a wonderful idea of a perfect tabula rasa, a blank slate that could be shaped into the perfect Gem or weapon. He wasn't sure if it was possible, but if it was, there was vast untapped power there.
Beatrice immediately cloaked herself in dusty darkness as the portal ring swept over her, bracing herself. But there was no pain. One moment, she was telling Archmund what a huge mistake he was making, and the next she wasn't.
She whirled around, getting her bearings. Amenities like desks and gifts. Towering trees. Cliffs and caves. A magnificent waterfall.
The entrance hall of Tier 2. He couldn't have done her the courtesy of sending her out of the Dungeon entirely, so she could tell someone about this? She'd have to fight her way back up alone?
"Beatrice. What a happy coincidence."
"Gelias? How long have you been here?"
Gelias looked worse for the wear. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was completely mussed up.
"Long enough," he said. "Would you mind keeping watch? I could use a nap."
And then he collapsed on his feet.
Night didn't come in the Dungeon.
She would have slept herself, but she found she couldn't. Maybe it was the caffeine from all the coffee. More likely it was the anger. He'd gotten rid of her, just like that. Sent her away, like brushing the dust off his boot. That felt so unfair. She'd done good work for him, and the instant she suggested that maybe he should share and not talk like a megalomaniac, he'd sent her away.
But what could she do? He'd beaten her soundly in single combat when he was using only a fraction of his powers. Her own powers couldn't compare to his.
Gelias slept soundly. No monsters came. Every so often, she peered past the threshold into the middle subtier. Every time, she was met with the endless wall of brilliant blue just across the threshold.
There was no way to track the passage of time.
"How long was I asleep?" Gelias said.
"I have no idea," Beatrice said.
"Did you come to your senses, or did he send you away?" Gelias said, his hand on his bow.
"I'm not sure," Beatrice said.
Gelias tensed.
"I told him he sounded like a madman, and after that he told me to go away."
Gelias relaxed.
"He often sounds like a madman, though," Gelias said. "Surely he's used to such accusations by now. He's not the type to lose his temper on a whim."
"That was the weird thing. It actually seemed to get to him."
Gelias furrowed his brow. "Concerning."
"He was acting like one of the bad nobles," Beatrice said. "The ones that give us all a bad name. The ones that tax and oppress their people for the sake of it, for their own coffers, so they can go wild against the inevitable rebellion and stain their hands with blood for sport."
"No. Surely he wouldn't go that far. He appreciates the inherent dignity of life."
"Well, no. I said he was acting like one of them, not that he was one of them."
Gelias tutted. "Precision in language is important, Beatrice."
Why did he have to be like this, even now?
"One can be reasoned with. The other justifies immediate execution by hiring a Venato assassin."
…Alright, that was actually a good reason.
"Do you think he can be reasoned with, Beatrice?"
"I tried," Beatrice said. "But there's something about him… something different. It's hard to argue against him, Gelias. You really see the rightness of his words. It would help all of us if he managed to strip this Dungeon of all that it was worth and reinvest the money back in Granavale and Agraria. They'd buy so much coal and ore and wood from us. We might not be as rich as him, but we'd still be rich."
"But at what cost?" Gelias murmured.