NOVEL NEXT Book 2 Chapter 19
Unfortunately, there was still more left to do, even after I crushed Paimon's skull under cast-iron knuckles. I was just about dead on my feet, and nobody else was doing much better, besides Emily- and Emily was still chained to the altar by her ankles.
I didn't have much magicka left in my body, but I had enough for one last spell- a simple one, that broke the chains tying her to the altars. That was it, though- any further magicka I tried to use would be pulled out of my vital essence, and I'd suffer a nasty long-term injury called mana burn, which even a full-on Healer like Emily wouldn't be able to cure, only treat. It would put me out of action for months, before I was finally able to cast a single spell again.
"Joseph!" Emily cried, rushing forward to catch me in her embrace. "My hero, my knight in shining armor, I'm so glad you're here. Oh, I don't know what I did to deserve you..."
"You could start by healing my heart," I said quietly.
"Of course, I-"
"Literally, I got stabbed through the left atrium, which also lacerated my aorta. The spell that's keeping me from bleeding out expires in a few minutes, and I don't have the magicka to renew it."
"JOSEPH!"
To her credit, as soon as she realized just how badly I was doing, she went into full Healer Mode, cleaning out the wound and also the impromptu operating theater with bright flashes of golden light. All I could think, as I laid down on the stone floor atop the Ziggurat, was that I was very glad to have Emily.
---
"With your bare hands, huh?" Lysander asked.
"Not exactly bare, but... Close enough," I said with a shrug, before taking a sip of that imagined future beer. It didn't actually have a defined taste, the way tea and beef stew and other food I'd actually had did. Rather, it gave the impression of a beverage I liked and had made myself, after years of learning how to make it for myself just the way I like it. "Definitely close enough to be one hell of an Occult anchor. That's the shit legends are made of."
We were back on the rooftop of my house, in the folding chairs I would try to make sometime soon, each holding a cold bottle of beer, watching the sun set over the Red River.
I'd died for the third time, on top of that ziggurat. Emily was damn good, but there was only so much she could do about a guy who got his heart perforated and then kept fighting. But, well... Everyone knew a good cleric could raise the recently dead, with an intact body, and Emily was that good cleric that everyone imagined. I'd be fine. Just meant more time talking to High King Lysander Rosewood, my great grandfather who was proud of me.
"Yeah, no kiddin'," Lysander said. "You know, I was kinda leery about you branching out into Occultism, back when you first started. But... It's worked out for you. And you haven't used it to be an obnoxious twit."
"If you're gonna keep watching me from Heaven, you're gonna be disappointed," I said. "You are going to start seeing a lot of me learning how to play an instrument, and it is going to be bad."
"It can't be that bad," Lysander said, incorrectly.
"Great-Grandpa- no, no, that won't work," I said, frowning. "I need some kind of familial address for you, but 'Great-Grandpa' has as many syllables as 'Lysander,' so what's the point? But I also can't call you 'Grandpa' or 'Gramps,' because that's reserved for Ariel's blood-father-"
"We have no idea who that is," Lysander said.
"Wait, really?" I said, blinking.
"Helen was... oh, seventeen, when she had her first heat?" Lysander said idly. "She snuck out, found herself a handsome lad who'd been visiting the Palace on business, and a month later, she realized she was pregnant, and he was long gone, having never exchanged names with her."
"...Huh," I said. "So Helen and Ariel are, on the scale of elven ages, effectively the same age as each other?"
"More or less," Lysander said, nodding. "Now, if you're done deflecting- I know you're about to argue that your early days of music practice are going to be torture to the ears. But more important than that..." Lysander sighed, setting his bottle down and sitting upright, then leaning forward a little. "...There are a few weaknesses that need addressing."
"Andy, I just killed a Demon King with my bare hands," I said. "I did so in a manner both more permanent and less collaterally-damaging than you did. As far as I'm concerned, I did better than you, and I'm not gonna let you talk down to me."
"I'm not talking down to you, Joseph," Lysander said, quietly. "You're my heir. My job is to help you, to make sure you avoid all of my mistakes. I'm not going to pretend that taking criticism from the longest reigning monarch in history is easy, but... I need you to understand, I'm not doing this as a power play. I am trying to help you, in what limited ways I can."
"...Fine," I said quietly, closing my eyes. "I'm listening."
"You need to spend some time working on your teamwork," Lysander said. "There were multiple occasions where Faith and Talia were present and willing to help you, but where you simply ignored them, and left them sitting on their thumbs."
"That's not-" I began.
"You also need to spend some time training them," Lysander said, interrupting me. "I know that you haven't even formally started university yet, I know you were probably going to let the teachers handle training them- too bad. You need to start teaching them now. Because I know why they didn't contribute- mounted combat is hard, fighting a tough and highly-mobile opponent when you're not mobile is hard, and neither of them had been trained to do that. You have, and you need to share that training as soon as you can. You've got your weird rapid-fire explosion-bow; that's a good weapon, that you made, and I know you can teach your girls how to use 'em too."
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"Alright," I relented. "Soon as I'm back on my feet, I'll make another batch of guns, and teach 'em how to shoot straight. Quality's not gonna be the best, because I don't have my full workshop, but... I'll make do, and it's better than nothing. What else?"
"Well, that brings me to another point," Lysander said. "You should stay off your feet for a little while. Let them take care of you. I know you're trying to be the Big Man, carrying the community on your shoulders, but if you try to shrug off a perforated ventricle, they will kick your ass. Be reasonable about this, acknowledge that they're capable adults too, and let them worry about running things while you recover."
"...None of them know how to drive the van," I pointed out.
"Volex will know," Lysander said with a shrug. "It's Occult stuff- ask her about it after she's done driving your group to Mount Fate."
"Fair," I said.
"Also," Lysander continued, "you are eighteen. This is not to say that you are incapable- this is to say that you are still young and malleable. You need to set the habit of taking time to rest and recover after serious exertions, if you want to avoid grinding yourself down to dust. So... Talk to The Father about time dilation, so you can have a longer break before you get to Mount Fate. You can spend that time doing things, but only as long as they're unproductive and fun."
"That's..." I paused. "...Huh. Well, I could try making that braiding machine and using that with the straw bale from the Coursers. See if I can figure out how to make us some straw hats. Is that unproductive enough for your liking?"
"Of course," Lysander said. "You can just buy hats if your only goal is to have hats, and making hats isn't exactly a prime money-making strategy for you. I've been watching you for a long time, Joseph- I know you a lot better than you know me. When I tell you to relax and get some rest, I am fully expecting you to get bored of lying in bed, and get up to play with your toys."
I opened my mouth to protest, then stopped.
"...There's not really anything I can say that'll convince you that my machine shop is not just an elaborate toybox that I've managed to convince everyone else is a practicality."
"You're not fooling anyone. Even Emily can tell you love making things, and she's known you for all of a month."
"Yeah, that's fair," I admitted. "It's just... Actually, no, I don't need to explain why I like making shit, do I? That's what, like, every High Elf was like, back before the war."
"Not all of them, but... a lot, yes," Lysander said, nodding. Then... he sighed. "When you see Helen next... Be nice to her, Joseph."
"She's got depths I don't know about?" I asked. "I suppose whatever happened between her and Mom isn't really my business-"
"Oh, it very much will be," Lysander said. "And before you ask- Helen is actually worse than you think. I'm not telling you to be nice to my daughter because she's family and she's had a hard life, I'm telling you to be nice to her so that when you do talk, she might actually listen."
"Okay, what the fuck did she do to this 'Jason' guy?" I demanded.
"Well, he-"
---
"He's awake," I heard someone whisper.
"Lysander was just about to tell me what Grandma did to piss off Mom so badly," I said, my throat dry. "How long was I out?" I opened my eyes, and beheld Volex and Emily- Volex by my side, and Emily more in front of me. I could feel that my jacket had been wadded up and stuffed under my head, to act as a pillow. A nice gesture, but in all honesty, without its protective charmwork, I was really not liking the desert sunshine.
"You were dead for three minutes," Emily said, drying her hands with a sheet of weirdly-absorbant paper- I had to teach her how to do that with Arcane magic, it was so much easier than having to wash towels. "Then you were unconscious for a half hour. You kept trying to wake up, but that would've interfered with the healing; luckily, Volex and Talia both knew some sleep spells to keep you down until I finished."
"Fair enough," I said. "Can someone prop me up so I can drink some water?"
"Of course," Emily said, nodding. Whatever shyness she might have experienced at any other time, it was gone when she was in Healer Mode.
Volex offered me a cup of water with a bent metal straw in it, which I accepted without complaint. It rankled my pride a little, to have to drink from a metal straw- that's the sort of thing people like Uncle Frederick and Amelie Rosepetals do, because they're frail and feeble, and I am a healthy, vigorous young man, full of piss and vinegar, who can drink out of a cup like a normal person.
However, as Lysander had pointed out... I was not currently a healthy and vigorous young man who could take care of himself. I had to let the others take care of me for now.
It wasn't like I had any other choice, but... well. It felt better to feel like I was making a choice.
"...And can I please get out of the sun?" I asked. "It is... so fucking hot out here."
"Well... there's a problem with that," Emily said, wincing. "See, we're at the top of a big pyramid, and, um... We can't bring the van up here, and I really don't think you're in any shape to be walking down the stairs."
I blinked, and then sighed explosively.
"But!" Emily continued, perking up. "I sent Talia and Faith down to go get some stuff to make a stretcher, so we can carry you down the stairs. They, um... They might be a minute."
I considered the situation carefully. Was this taking longer than I'd like? Yes. Was there anything I could do about it? No. Was there anything really at stake, here?
"...I'll live."