B4Ch6: Healing
"It seems that was the last of them, sire." Gorfeld's voice was soothing, in a way. He was sitting next to Matt's bed. The healers had already done their business and left, though that was somewhat underselling their efforts. Apparently, the dagger in Matt's back had been coated in a particularly nasty poison. It was well into the night, now; Matt didn't particularly want to think about how close the dawn would be.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. "You're sure? I remember there being six of them when we were in Shadowfen."
"One of them died in the Copper Hills, I believe. Killing a Prince of the Elves, if I heard correctly." Gorfeld grimaced. "They actually did perform a number of assassinations in that territory. Perhaps some of the Alliance's lack of coordination during the campaign can be attributed to them."
Matt grunted. The sound made a spike of pain radiate from his back. "Well, they clearly thought their side of the deal was done. At least, done enough that they could come for me again." He pictured the bloody scene back in the museum. Clearly, they hadn't anticipated a few things in their attempt. "How are the others?"
"The Maiden of Art will recover. She tried to stop one of the assassins and was struck by a knife in the stomach, but the healers were able to treat her. The Minister of Building was wounded a handful of times, but he was also treated and will recover." Gorfeld paused. "Wonoll died, sire. Girluk still fights for his life, but the healers are not certain. Both Malwun and Balred were also wounded, but they will recover soon."
He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Relief warred with rage and grief inside him. Wonoll hadn't been as close to Matt as the others, but he'd still fought hard for him. The Goblin had deserved better than to die as part of some bitter assassins' vendetta.
A painful cough forced its way out of him. The healers had warned him there would be a few of those until the poison they couldn't excise worked its way out of him. He spat into a nearby bowl and tried to ignore the purple color. "And you, Gorfeld? Were you injured?"
Gorfeld looked down at his arm. There was a small bandage there. "I… am fine, my liege."
Matt raised an eyebrow. His steward had saved his life… again. With nothing but a pair of knives, against a pair of professional assassins. "Anything you'd like to explain, Gorfeld?"
The steward winced. His expression showed a curious mix of embarrassment and distress. "Not… particularly, sire."
He opened his mouth to demand an explanation… and paused. Gorfeld had been nothing but loyal to him. It wasn't like the Imp was planning to stab him in the back and take the throne for himself. In fact, he'd offered Gorfeld the job several times.
Instead of accusing him of hiding something, Matt thought back over the times he'd worked with the man. Gorfeld had always been competent, and his talents at teleportation magic were clearly valuable. After all, he could probably deliver messages anywhere. The Red Sorceress had obviously devoted a lot of effort to help him learn it.
Matt blinked. He thought a bit more about how much effort the former ruler must have spent on a simple Goblin. Far too much for someone who was just a messenger. Then he smiled. "You know, Gorfeld, it occurs to me that certain skills can be used for more than one task."
Gorfeld studied him for a moment. He seemed to tense up and brace himself. "Yes, sire."
"For example, a messenger and an assassin are just delivering different messages, right?"
His steward flinched. "You could… say that, sire. Yes."
Matt watched him a moment more. Then he sighed. "You saved my life again today, Gorfeld."
The Imp nodded without responding. Matt continued in an even voice. "How many times does that make it?"
Gorfeld blinked. He tilted his head to one side. "Sire?"
The honest confusion in Gorfeld's voice made Matt laugh. It hurt, but not enough to stop him. "I'm not going to ask anything more. I just… how many times?"
His steward looked back at him for a long moment. Then he heaved a sigh of his own and looked away. "Sixteen, sire. Seventeen if we count bringing you here in the first place."
"I think we'll call that one a freebie." Matt smirked. He shifted a little in his bed. "Not regretting it yet?"
Gorfeld gave him a frank look. "No, sire." He shook his head. "Honestly, even just seeing what happened today… You know that no monarch has had that, right? Those were Low Folk, people without training to help them or favor to gain. Yet they still put themselves in danger for you."
Matt's wry expression fell away as his mind went back over the carnage in the museum. "Were any of them killed?"
"No. A few were poisoned, but the healers got to them in time." Gorfeld shook his head. "You had Fortune on your side today, sire."
"I know." Matt leaned back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He'd have to meet those people, to thank them. How many more times was he going to be able to rely on that kind of luck again? Without his magic, he was hideously vulnerable. If they caught him alone next time, or the crowd had been a little less loyal…
He shook his head. Failure wasn't an option, not now.
Matt paused to knock on the doorframe. His lifeguards glanced at him in amusement, but he ignored them. Just because he was the King, didn't mean he intended to violate someone's privacy.
"Come in!"
He hesitated for a moment and then pushed the door open. Rethferd tried to go through the door first, but he gave the lifeguard a calming gesture and strode through instead.
He found Tanya's antechamber full of people. The room seemed more than a little crowded. All of the Humans were there, along with Tanya's two Goblin attendants. Even Riley was there, a book closed in her lap as she stared at Tanya. A handful of healers were there as well, though they seemed to have completed their business and were just packing up to leave. One of them glanced over at him and nearly dropped his medical tools; a set of hooked needles clattered on the floor before he could frantically scoop them up.
Tanya herself was sprawled on one of the couches. Her face was paler than usual, and her expression had the dull look of someone whose pain was kept back only by copious amounts of painkillers. Matt had experienced that feeling himself before, and he didn't envy her the aftereffects once the things wore off. She still seemed moderately alert, however, and she looked over at him with a bleary kind of interest. "Cowboy?"
Matt forced himself to smile, despite the weakness in her voice. "Hey. Just coming to check on you."
She smiled a little, but Alicia spoke before she could. The nurse's expression could have sent an Orcish banner running. "You should not be up and walking around right now."
He winced, which didn't do the wound on his back any favors. His arm was in a sling to keep him from moving it around and agitating things, and he still had to be careful not to twist too far. Getting dressed, even in just his military-style tunic, had been an experience. "I'm not doing anything too rough, Alicia. I just wanted to see how she was doing."
Alicia seemed unconvinced. "Then send a messenger next time. Don't drag yourself down here just to—"
"'s not going to work, Allie." Tanya's sleepy voice sent an ache through him, but she still seemed to have enough energy to wag a finger at Alicia. "He's a King, they do what they have to. Gotta keep it all going, you know?"
Matt watched as she settled a bit further back into her couch, her eyes fluttering. "Got to keep it all moving, or it all goes down. All on him. Too serious to just stop. No giving up. Got… to…"
Her eyes slowly closed, and he took a sudden, panicked step forward. Alicia put a hand on his chest to stop him. She spoke in a hurried whisper. "Just the medicine. She needs the sleep."
Matt looked back at Alicia and then looked at Miguel. The big man was staring at Tanya with clear concern, apparently ignoring the bandages on his forearms. He sat on the couch across from her, his hands clasped in front of him. For just a moment, he glanced at Matt, long enough to give him a firm nod.
He nodded back and gestured for the lifeguards to follow him out of the room. The other Humans and the healers did likewise, leaving Miguel and Tanya inside with the attendants as they closed the doors behind them. Matt watched as the healers scurried off, clearly not wanting to be anywhere near the monarch for any longer than they had to.
As soon as they turned the corner, Jessica rounded on him, her face full of fury. "What the hell is—"
Matt held up a hand. It was more to keep his lifeguards from reaching for their swords, but he also took the chance to look back at Alicia. "She's still improving?"
The nurse nodded. "The doctors here did a decent job. No infection that I could see, and the wound is stitched up well enough. They keep coming back to give her some kind of strengthening spell, too."
He relaxed a little. It was a spell he was unfortunately familiar with, given his own history of injuries. They wouldn't have been using it if they believed there was any chance of infection or complications; otherwise, the shock might have killed her. "And Miguel?"
She grimaced. "He's not any better of a patient than you are, but he should be fine. The knives didn't cut any important tendons, and the doctors got to him before the poison even knocked him out." Alicia glanced back at the room. "He should be resting more, but he doesn't want to leave her."
Matt glanced at the door and then turned to Rethferd. "I want two lifeguards outside this door at all times. Shift whatever schedules you need to. They stay here until the Maiden of Art recovers."
Rethferd nodded. "Yes, my liege."
He looked back at the rest of the Humans. "You're each going to get at least one as well. You'll still get to go wherever you want, but I can't risk this happening again."
Jessica's jaw clenched. "So now we're going to be followed around by one of your goons, just in case a bunch of assassins come after us?"
"Yes." Matt met her eyes with a level look. "Your other option is to be confined to the palace and still under guard. What happened at the museum was bad, but next time it could be a lot worse."
Jordan blinked. He had a sheaf of parchment in his hands. "How could it be worse?"
Matt looked at the man. "They could have killed her, or maybe taken her hostage. Then they could have lured me into a trap so they could kill me, and then killed all of you."
Jesica snorted. "Because you're the most important one, right?"
Before Matt could answer, Riley spoke up. "Yeah. I mean, it's about the Divine Right, isn't it?"
He looked at her in surprise, along with the rest of the Humans. Jessica started to shake her head. "You're not serious about that, right? It's just a political justification for the monarchy."
Riley blinked. "Nope. Here it's real. There's a whole lot of mythology around it and everything." Her fingers tapped along the book's cover. "I'm still trying to track down exactly how it works, but every time someone with the Right gets killed, it transfers to the next person. Then all the nobles owe that person their obedience."
Jessica stared at her in shock. Matt just raised an eyebrow. "You learned that from the Speakers?"
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The woman brightened a little. "They're fascinating! They had so many stories and legends and theories about everything." She paused and sighed. "Still, they don't seem to know where the Right comes from or how it started. They just know it's there, and that it's bound everyone here to follow it since forever."
Slowly, Jessica turned back to look at Matt. Her eyes grew a little sharper. "And you have it now. Is that why they tried to kill you?"
Matt grimaced. "Well, one reason. They had a lot of others." He glanced at the closed door. "They were allied with one of the nobles. She died trying to kill me and take the Kingdom for herself."
Jordan frowned. "Why'd they go after Tanya, though? It isn't like she has it."
"She's made herself important in the Kingdom—and the last time they tried to get to me, she helped put a stop to it." It had been the first time Tanya had used her magic to kill. He shook his head to clear the memory. "They might have wanted to keep her from interfering this time, or maybe they wanted revenge. Either way, if someone else tries to do the same, I want all of you to have someone who can fight nearby."
Riley raised her hand. "Do we need to know how to fight, or just use magic? I've learned a few things, but I don't think they're usable in combat yet."
Matt frowned at her. Melren had mentioned that she'd been taking some lessons on building a Source, but he said that she hadn't learned any spells. What had she managed to dig up on her own? "You need at least one combat spell. Maybe some physical combat training as well." Alicia stirred, and Matt gave her a hard look. "You had some with the Alliance, sure, but not enough. I'm the one who captured you the last time, remember?"
Looking uncomfortable, Jordan opened his mouth to protest. Then the door opened, and they all stopped as Miguel stepped out.
The big man's eyes settled on Matt immediately. He turned to close the door softly behind him before he spoke. "Vato, you said we could learn magic if we wanted?"
Matt raised his eyebrows. He glanced at Alicia. "Yeah."
"And you have trainers, right? For the soldiers in the Arsenal?" Miguel watched intently as Matt nodded again. Then the big man nodded. "Tell them that as soon as I get these bandages off, I'm going to need some of their time."
For a moment, Matt wanted to tell him to rest. He wanted to say that there were other ways that Miguel could help, and that the lifeguards could handle any threats.
Then he remembered his own helplessness in the museum, and in so many of the assassination attempts before that. Gritting his teeth, he nodded. "I'll let Melren and the others know, Miguel."
"Good." He looked around at the others. "You all aren't nearly as quiet as you think you are."
They watched as he quietly opened the door and retreated back through it. When it had closed, Matt turned back to the rest, keeping his voice a lot lower. "None of you will be forced to do it, but as long as you're vulnerable, you need to be escorted. Let me know what you decide."
Jessica exchanged a look with Alicia and then nodded. "I'll do it, then."
Alicia grimaced. "Me too. At least it'll keep me from worrying that some murder cult is going to come after us."
They looked at Jordan, who shifted on his feet uncomfortably. He avoided their eyes. "I'm less of a fighter and more of a clerk." Jessica gave him an incredulous look, and he sighed. "All right, I'll see if I can spare some time. I'm going to be so busy, though…"
Matt gave him a curious look. "Did you figure something out with the budget?"
He nodded. "I have a plan. I was going to present it to the Council when I had the chance, but—"
With a glance back at the door, Matt held up a hand. "You can tell me later when you're ready. At least try and let me hear about it before the Council does, so I'm not surprised." Jordan nodded, and Matt looked around at the others. "For now, head back to your quarters. The lifeguards we assign to you will meet you there."
Alicia and Riley looked a little sour about the order, but Jessica looked resigned to things for once. So did Jordan, though he heaved an overly dramatic sigh. "I guess we shouldn't have been depending on you to protect all of us with your magic, right? Especially not after Greyhenge."
Matt winced. "My magic might have been a little helpful, but I don't know that it would have stopped them. Not that I had the chance to find out."
Riley blinked. She tilted her head to the side. "Your magic isn't working?"
He glanced at her. "My magic was… damaged at Greyhenge. Melren's been trying, but I don't know if those Sources will come back."
"Huh." She tilted her head to the other side. "Sounds a bit like Soul damage, honestly. You might want to get that looked at."
Matt stared at her for a moment. "What?"
"Yes, sire. The Maiden of Books is correct." The Speaker glanced at Riley, who blushed and smiled. The elderly Frost Elf gave her a gentle smile and then turned back to Matt. "Your description of the way the Sources are acting makes it highly likely that you've suffered Soul damage. Luckily, it is not a permanent condition, as long as the appropriate actions are taken."
Matt blinked. He sat back in the chair and studied the Speaker for a moment. The Frost Elf had called herself Dysyani, and was someone who had joined the collection of Speakers that Matt had assembled at the capital, though she hadn't joined until Itrelia's rebellion had been destroyed. She was also one of the oldest of their number, something that seemed to be confirmed by her paper-thin skin and wispy white hair. Her eyes were still sharp, however, and she studied him with brilliant purple eyes that showed no sign of fear.
"What would those steps be, then? Is there some healer that could—"
Dysyani chuckled, her voice warbling as she spoke again. "No, sire. I'm afraid that while their techniques are quite excellent at preserving the body and health of a person, this problem is an affliction of magic and spirit, not blood and bone."
He frowned. "Melren never mentioned anything about this. Wouldn't he have known?"
"Mages—especially of the nobility—focus more on prevention than a rarely used cure, sire." The Elf shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "To be honest, most mages are not as comfortable with the spells it would require to fix the problem, anyway. More often than not, they focus on things of the Body, Heart, or Mind. These are things of the Soul."
Matt's frown deepened. Out of the four Aspects, Melren had always seemed to waver the most when he spoke about Soul. He'd thought it was mostly due to the way it was used, but perhaps it had been more out of ignorance than reluctance. "So in order to fix things, I need a Source with a Soul Aspect?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid the only techniques I know of would require someone else to do the work, actually." Dysyani looked at Riley. "In fact, we would first need to confirm that your ailment is what I suspect it to be."
Matt looked from the Elf to Riley, and then back. "You don't seem comfortable saying that. Why?"
Riley answered first. "Soul's kind of spooky, Matt."
He gave her a patient look, but Dysyani just laughed again. It was an odd, breathless sound that still somehow seemed to fill the room, like a glow of warm sunlight. "Not the words I would have used, student, but an effective way to speak of it." The Elf turned back to Matt, her eyes sparkling. "My protégé is correct, sire. There are many effects that can happen with spells of the Soul, and not all such dangers are capable of being anticipated."
Matt sighed. "I'm not afraid of magic, Speaker Dysyani. I see healers all the time, after all."
"Then perhaps you should be, sire." Dysyani's voice abruptly lost some of its good cheer. It became calmer, deeper, as if he'd stepped from shallow water along the shore into a place that was fathomless. "Magic is more than you believe. There are dangers in the dark."
As he tried to find a way to respond, Dysyani leaned back, and her face lost some of the seriousness it had gained. "May I ask you something, sire? How do you think the Grim Hounds were formed?"
The question took him aback for a moment. He knew the answer was obvious, but he tried to think through it first. "The Red Sorceress was known for making them."
"She was. Though she had many flaws, a lack of bold experimentation was not one of them." Dysyani's mouth worked into a snarl for a moment. "Her spell to create such abominations could not have been of the Mind. Those spells only change the world around a mage, not the nature of a person within it."
Matt's eyes narrowed. "It wasn't Body, because that would have been a change for herself, not her victims."
A grim smile played on the Speaker's lips now. She held up two fingers, and then let one fold back down. "Heart would be closer, but not quite. Spells of the Heart are based on deep connections, something that could never be formed with the enemies she corrupted. Therefore…"
"She made them using Soul Aspect spells." Matt nodded slowly. "You're saying that similar spells could be used against me."
Dysyani's smile vanished. She sighed. "Yes. Similar, and worse." With another glance at Riley, she continued in a quiet voice. "Those who experiment in such a realm are often dangerous far beyond what you would expect. Their threats can be as subtle as an altered memory, or a false emotion—or they can be as blatant as a twisted form or a brutalized corpse. Such are the dangers of working with the Soul."
He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. The way she described those effects… "You're saying that these spells are common?"
"No." The Speaker shook her head definitively. "Mages are no more comfortable with such things than the rest of us. They avoid Soul spells when they can, and those who master them often fall under suspicion. A part of why the Red Sorceress was treated with such disgust was her mastery of such things."
Then Dysyani paused and smiled. "Of course, such skills were what made her welcome in the Obsidian King's court as well. He found such talent useful until she employed it against him."
Matt studied her still. "I'd heard that Speakers often know spells of the Soul. Are such abilities common among you?"
Dysyani shook her head. "No, sire. If anything, we work more often to prevent such things from being learned or to combat them once they are known." She shrugged. "Our presence was, of course, unwelcome for such reasons. In part."
Riley broke in at that point, her expression anxious. "Most of their spells aren't like that, Matt. They do more like looking for things, or making contracts, or—"
"Oaths?" Matt snapped upright in his seat. The Speaker nodded.
"Such things are within our domain." Dysyani closed her eyes for a moment. "Though most Oaths are far less potent than the ones you've encountered. The bond between a man and wife provides less magical power than the one between a ruler and his people."
Matt thought back to the day of his coronation. He mentally searched through his memories, looking for someone that might have been there. "Was one of you there when I was crowned? Did some of you help with the ceremony?"
He stopped when the Elf shook her head. Her eyes fixed on him. "No. We were not necessary there." Dysyani sighed again. "Such Oaths are bound up within the Divine Right. They are natural for the One Who Is Burdened By Dragons."
She paused as she said the last words, though he could have sworn they sounded strange. Matt frowned. "Dragons? What dragons? Are they in this world too?"
Dysyani's expression grew confused for a moment. She looked at Riley, who shrugged. "I… did not say anything about such a creature, sire."
He blinked. "You did. You just said it was natural for someone who is burdened by dragons."
A brief silence fell. Riley spoke slowly. "Matt, she wasn't talking in regular words. She used some kind of fancy title that my language spell doesn't translate. I don't think she knows what it means either. It's just a title."
"Then why…" Matt stopped. His finger tapped the table for a moment. "The Divine Right. It translates languages for me."
Dysyani stared at him, and he smiled. "You wouldn't happen to have any more of that language, would you?"
She shook her head slowly, her purple eyes as wide as they could go. Her hand on the table trembled slightly. "No, my liege. There may be some in the libraries, but I have not…" Dysyani broke off. "I will search for them and send others to look when I can."
"Thank you." He looked at Riley. "I'm guessing they don't have much that mentions dragons in the libraries?"
Riley shrugged. "Maybe. So far, I've just seen legends, like what you'd see back home."
Matt nodded. "Try to find more, if you can." After all, the more he knew about the Divine Right, the easier it would be to get rid of the thing. "For now, I imagine you're going to warn me not to let anyone I don't trust use Soul magic on me, right?"
The Speaker had seemed to recover enough to nod by that point. She was watching him without a hint of humor now, studying him like a wolf that had somehow crept into the room without her knowing. "Yes, my liege. Even I would not dare do so, lest someone accuse me of tampering with you. After all, there are those who would love a scapegoat to blame for further… misdeeds."
He sucked in a breath and let it out. "I understand." Then he turned to Riley. "Is this the kind of magic you've been learning?"
The woman blinked. She nodded. "Yeah. I've only got one Source so far, but it seems like a pretty good one. I have a couple of spells attached to it too, so—" Her eyes widened. "Oh! You mean you want me to…"
Matt nodded. "If you can just take a quick look?"
Riley looked at Dysyani, who gestured for her to get on with things. The Elf sat back as Riley scooted her chair a little forward and reached out to touch Matt's forehead. He blinked at the direct contact and opened his mouth to ask if it was really necessary.
Before he could form the question, however, something reached out and touched his Source of Earth.
A cold, painful sensation froze him in place. It was like being stuck in the eye with a thumb, only on a far more personal, metaphysical level. A clumsy tendril of fluid brushed along the fractured surface of the Source, grating against the continual, grinding motion of the magic welling up within it. He made a quiet groan of pain and clenched his hands, trying not to move. They hadn't said that she could do more than poke around, but something told him that if Riley made the wrong move, something worse than Greyhenge would happen. The last thing he needed now was another earthquake in Redspire.
After what seemed like an eternity, the tendril stopped curling around the Earth Source. Matt had just enough time to relax slightly before it reappeared and started to brush over the Air Source inside him. That same cold probe wrapped itself around every fracture and bruise in the Source, sending waves of agony through him in the process.
When it finally withdrew for a second time, Matt nearly fell off the chair. His arms and legs shook; the pain from the wound in his back seemed inconsequential compared to the echoes of agony panging through him. Sweat formed over him, and nausea nearly made him empty his stomach. Only an extreme force of will kept him from disgracing himself.
Riley stepped back, her expression mildly horrified. She looked at Dysyani and spoke in a choked voice. "They are both heavily damaged. It's like someone took an axe to both of them."
Dysyani grimaced. "It is as I feared, then." She looked at Matt. "If you wish, the Maiden might be able to help you with time. She will need to master another Source, however. Only then will she be able to handle the task."
Matt focused on breathing for a moment. Each spurt of air drawn in through his clenched teeth cost him, though the feeling was quickly fading. Eventually, he managed to nod. "So be it. What can I do in the meantime?"
The Speaker paused. She looked at Riley again. "Have patience. The process will not be easy, nor will it be painless." Dysyani shook her head. "For now, develop what other talents you can, and avoid anything that might trouble your Soul further. Your grasp on the Sources you have is tenuous at best. If they must bear some trial before you are ready…"
Matt thought back to the piercing headaches he'd had when the Copper Hills had been occupied. Combining them with the fractured Sources he now bore seemed like a bad idea. "Thank you, Speaker. Riley." He started to rise from his chair and had to brace himself on its back. Rethferd stepped forward, his worries plain on his face, but Matt nodded at him.
He looked back at the others. "Let me know when you are ready—and please, keep this to yourselves." Matt pictured, unwillingly, his Sources breaking down completely, and shuddered.
Then he stumbled back towards the hallway, his mind already whirling with all he needed to do. It seemed like a lot, but at least he wouldn't need to go through something quite that painful again. At least, not soon.