Being pursued by people who wish you harm is obviously stressful. However, if you’re being pursued at a sedate walk through an idyllic countryside (weird alien plant life notwithstanding) on a sunny morning, with a miniature oracle who obviates the need to check over your shoulder, it becomes an amazingly laid-back experience. You know, considering the constant potential for violence. If anything, the tension added just the right pinch of spice to what would’ve otherwise been just a long tedious stroll. Had it not been for the lingering fatigue from our overnight activities, this might have actually been fun.

As it was, we got over being tense and worried surprisingly fast, and even fell into conversation while Biribo magically kept watch on our pursuers.

“No, look. If it’s a one in ten chance, it’s ten percent! So it’s nine times more likely to have gone the other way.”

“Yeah, but a single person is one or the other, right? So it’s a binary choice.”

“A binary choice with one in ten odds! Listen, if you’ve got ten people, and only one is—”

“Yeah, but you don’t have ten people, you only have the one, so it’s a coin toss.”

“That is not how statistics works! Biribo, considering I’m dependent on you for information it is really disturbing that you misunderstand math on a basic level!”

“Assuming for the sake of argument that you’re right, and that’s not a concession, math has nothing to do with tactical data or general Ephemera knowledge, boss.”

“I fucking know. I’ve been told about the coins.”

“So,” Aster interrupted, “I gather one of your reasons for recruiting an army of whores is so you can use that Enjoin to strengthen them? Cos, let’s face it, they aren’t all lookers but enough of ‘em are passably pretty…”

“I considered that, but there doesn’t seem much point,” I said, glad enough to drop the argument. “The Blessing of Wisdom does nothing without a familiar, and we have no way of getting you one, much less anybody else. The other two are dependent on scrolls and artifacts to be any use, which I already haven’t found a way to get more of, and if I do I’m going to need them for myself. So, no real use in Enjoining anybody else when I can’t equip them to get anything out of it. To be honest, I only made that spell to test out how spell combination works; I thought at the time it was pretty useless. You were a supremely lucky find, Aster.”

“That’s the nicest thing anybody’s said about me in years. Truly. And isn’t that depressing as hell.”

“If it helps, I only cast it on you to see whether it worked.”

“Why would that help? Why would you even bother to say that? Not every thought that drifts through your consciousness needs to come out of your mouth!”

I cleared my throat. “How’re our friends back there doing, Biribo?”

“Oh, sure, discussion over, I take it,” Aster grumbled.

“They’re keeping pace, boss. Cutting through that stretch of khora slowed them down, but they’re staying with us.”

“I wondered if that would throw them off… Visibility in there was practically nil and we stopped talking for the duration. How’d they follow us?”

“The old-fashioned way; I think the third guy is a tracker. The other two are the pair who approached you outside the Alley Cat.”

“Are we close to the waystation?”

“It’s hard to tell, sticking to remote trails like we have been, but we should be in the vicinity by now,” said Aster.

“I think so,” Biribo added. “There’s a big concentration of people off to our northeast. At this range I can’t sense more detail than that, but that’d be the most likely source of it.”

“Mm… Well, keep me posted. On another note, I’ve been meaning to ask you: What the hell is Yoshi doing here?”

“Uh, that seems like something you’d need to ask him, boss. I’m not a mind-reader, unless you empower me the right way. Which you are nowhere near being able to do, incidentally.”

“I mean, on Dount.”

“Didn’t you hire Maugro to find that out?” Aster asked innocently.

I drew in a deep, slow breath, as if I could absorb patience along with the musty-spicy scent of khora. “Okay, let me back up. Virya said this whole Good versus Evil bit is a game to them, right? Well, where I’m from, we have lots of games and stories like that, only not using real people’s lives as playing pieces. There’s a certain…rhythm to them. Usually you only start seeing a Hero when the Dark Lord is well established, has conquered a lot of territory and is threatening the remainder of the world. Meanwhile, here I am, lord of a broken-down old fortress and a handful of bandits. Why’s the fucking Hero sniffing around my own backyard already?”

“Ah,” said Biribo. “I dunno what to tell you, boss. You gotta understand, this cycle has been going for a long time, and there’ve been a lot of variations. For one thing, a round of the great game only ends when the Dark Lord dies; if the Hero gets murked instead, another one’s called. So, lots of Dark Lords have ruled huge empires by the time they bought it. A few honestly just got tired of it all and quit. Or died of anything from natural causes to suicide. Three that I know of retired, handed the keys to power to a lieutenant and went off by themselves to relax; two of those were still alive and enjoying their sunset years well after a Hero toppled their former dominion.”

“Virya didn’t give me the impression that was going to be an option.”

“If you gave her the same impression you give most people, boss, she was probably not dealing with you gently. Take out a few Heroes and she’ll be a lot more lenient with you. But besides that, there’ve been a bunch of permutations over the centuries. Heroes and Dark Lords might be called decades apart, or at opposite ends of the archipelagos, or right there cheek to cheek from the beginning, like you were. Sometimes they’re complete strangers, or best friends, or lovers. A few times the goddesses deliberately pushed them together to become friends before arranging circumstances to force them to fight. Some real good drama that way, you see. It’s all about the spectacle for the goddesses.”

“That’s just twisted,” Aster murmured.

“So, yeah, there’s not really some profound answer, if that’s what you were wondering, boss,” Biribo continued. “The reason you and Yoshi ended up starting in the same country at the same time is just… That’s how they decided to do it this time. Heads up, we’re close enough now I’m picking up some details. Some of that big group of people I sense is a smaller group, a lot closer to us. About ten.”

“Aha. Our bandit camp?”

“Most likely. They’re deep in the khora, and this is too close to Fflyr territory to be a beastfolk encampment.”

We were now on what looked like a game trail that ran through a kind of long, narrow valley, carpeted in fieldgrass and wildflowers, with stands of khora up on ridges to either side.

“And our friends back there?”

“A little closer, but within what I’d consider normal variation of distance for tailing somebody. They don’t seem to be trying to close.”

“All right, kids, that’s our cue. This is gonna be delicate; we have to move quickly and navigate precisely. Biribo, we’ll need you to be the eyes and ears.”

“That’s what I do, boss! What’s the plan?”

The theme of the day so far was “tense but boring,” and adding “delicate” to the mix didn’t change the atmosphere very much. Aster and I stepped as quietly as we could manage through the khora, though I did look behind us to take note that we were leaving a trail even I could follow. With no voices except for Biribo guiding us in a whisper barely audible above the buzz of his wings, we passed by the bandit camp as closely as we could manage without coming within range of whatever sentries they had posted. We never saw them, though we passed near enough that even Aster and I could hear voices in the near distance. This would never have been possible if we’d gone in blind, but Biribo’s senses made it downright easy. He even updated their numbers to a firm count of twelve as we passed by.

Familiars might seem underwhelming next to the casting of spells or wielding of magical armor, but it occurred to me now that the less-common Blessed with Wisdom might be more of a threat to me than the flashier kinds. Somebody with this package of skills, plus more inherent cunning than I had and a greater familiarity with Ephemera…well, they’d run circles around me.

But that was a worry for another day.

We came to a stop as soon as Biribo judged we were at the proper distance and turned back to face in the direction from which we’d come. Aster shifted forward, placing herself a bit ahead of me, and drew her greatsword.

“All right, Biribo, you’re up,” I whispered. “You know the plan; don’t flub the timing, and this’ll go like clockwork.”

“Won’t letcha down, boss,” he promised, and zipped away into the khora, vanishing in seconds.

Then, there was nothing to do but wait, in tense silence. I checked my hood and mask, the latter of which I’d lowered earlier for ease of breathing; everything was back in place, ready to display the Healer’s mysterious persona to the fullest. To my side and ahead, Aster’s shoulders shifted as she drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

“You okay?” I murmured. “Tired?”

“Tired, but not too much. I’m fine.”

“Probably no need to hold that sword at the ready position. If all goes well, you won’t even be using it.”

“How often does all go well?”

“Hm. Now that you mention it, seems like things either blow up in our faces or go suspiciously smoothly, doesn’t it?”

She glanced at me, and though I could see nothing but her eyes between her scarf and hood, I could swear I caught a smirk in them.

That was when the whoop came from up ahead, a loud, penetrating yell in Biribo’s shrill little voice. It was immediately followed by a clamor of other voices and the crashing of people rushing about through the alien underbrush. Which was ill-advised; khora forests didn’t have bushes and ferns, they had thick spiky vine-like things which grew along the ground and occasional outcroppings of rock-hard khora shell from underground root systems. You had to watch your feet.

I let the yelling play out until it changed tone as a second set of voices joined in. Just after that, Biribo zipped back to us, looking hugely pleased with himself.

“Smooth as buttered satin, boss! Looks like Gray’s men are goners.”

“Nice work, Biribo. And now, finally, it is showtime.”

“Wait, we’re not gonna just let them get killed?” Aster asked. “Then what was the point?”

I just stepped forward, heading toward the sounds of confrontation. That had been my original plan, but in the interim it had occurred to me that if Lady Gray’s minions vanished or turned up dead at the hands of an enemy bandit gang after trailing the Healer I’d leap to the top of her priority list. She couldn’t allow me to exist if it looked like I was working for Clan Olumnach. Thus, I’d come up with a better idea. There was no time to explain it now, though.

Biribo ducked back under my cloak just before we stepped around a huge trunk of khora into the small cleared area where he’d laid his ambush. His yell, executed just as our three pursuers had entered this space in the shelter of three huge khora formations, had brought seven of the nearby bandits out of their camp to investigate, where they found three startled Gwyllthean thugs just passing through.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here, pissant?”

“Hey, I know that guy! He’s one of Gray’s crew!”

“Is that a fucking fact?”

“Don’t even think about it!” snarled one of the toughs who’d confronted me in Cat Alley, far less amiable now. He was carrying a crossbow, and now trained it on the tall fellow who was evidently the leader of the bandits. Both of his companions had weapons out, a club and a rapier respectively, but they were badly overmatched and knew it. Apart from being outnumbered, two of the bandits had short hunting bows with arrows nocked and drawn. All of them were armed, and the whole clearing was one sudden move from exploding into violence.

The outcome of that explosion would be simple math, even I could see it at a glance. The crossbowman would kill one of the bandits, the archers would kill two of the city thugs, and then the last guy would be facing six-on-one odds.

At least, until I stepped forward, and about half the weapons were immediately turned on me.

“And what is this?” I demanded, spreading my arms in a beneficent gesture as I emerged from the shadows, my voice projecting clearly through the khora. “Wherefore this violence between countrymen? Can you not see the futility of such infighting? Are we not all brothers in the same struggle? Verily I say to you: all our foes are the same, and it is only they who prosper when we quarrel amongst ourselves.”

Dead silence fell; my booming voice had momentarily scared off even the birds and bugs.

“What in Sanora’s name is this idiot blathering about?” one of the local bandits finally asked aloud, sounding more confused than angry.

“Ah, ah,” I chided, wagging one finger at him. “Invoke not the goddess, lest you call down her notice. For she is less benign than you have been taught.”

“Are you with these fuckers?” the big fellow in the lead demanded, looking at me but pointing his ax at the Gwyllthean trio.

“I am the Healer,” I intoned, folding my hands before me in a poster of prayer. “I come only to heal. I am on nobody’s side, for nobody is on my side.”

The bandit boss stared at me quizzically, then turned his incredulous expression on Lady Gray’s men.

“I wish I could tell you, brother,” the one with the crossbow said tersely. “Guy’s some kinda crawnbrain. I really wouldn’t fuck with him, though. He’s Blessed, and powerful.”

“I know a cure for that,” one of the bandits growled, and even as his leader shouted a warning at him, the bowstring twanged.

There was an archery club in my high school, but I hadn’t been part of it; that was the closest I’ve ever been to bows and arrows. If your only familiarity with archery is from movies, you’re likely to underestimate just how much kinetic energy an arrow has, especially if it’s fired from just a couple of meters away.

The shaft hit me right in the midsection and very nearly bowled me over. I stumbled backward, almost losing my feet, and was only saved from an embarrassing tumble by coming up against an outcropping of khora that arrested my backward momentum.

Aster had surged forward, sword upraised. Between it and the artifact armor she wore under her coat, she could very possibly wipe out the entire gang.

“Stop!” I gasped, raising a hand. It was hard to speak—hard to breathe. I straightened back up, my limbs buzzing with the lightness and energy of sheer adrenaline. Good, hopefully that would keep me going long enough to avoid shock setting in. “Be at peace! They know not what they do.”

She hesitated, half-turning to keep the bandits in her field of view while checking on me.

I stepped forward, grasping the shaft now sticking out of my midsection. Hot blood was sticky on my fingers, pouring down the front of my coat. By luck or Virya’s grace, it had struck me below the ribs, so there was nothing but soft tissue for the head to get stuck on. Hopefully.

You never, ever pull out the foreign object impaling your body, unless you want to bleed to death. Or unless you have ridiculous overpowered healing magic.

The buzz of adrenaline was all that kept me from collapsing or throwing up as I ripped the arrow out of my diaphragm. I felt muscle tear, felt pain spike through me abruptly; it hadn’t actually hurt until that point, weirdly enough. The arrow came free cleanly, absolutely soaked crimson. I checked that I had the whole thing out and didn’t have an arrowhead still in my flesh, but no, it was there at the end of the shaft. Along with a small chunk of unidentifiable meat which I looked away from and refused to think about, throwing the shaft to the side.

The blood had become a fountain. I could feel myself bleeding out.

Heal.

Gasps, curses, and a couple of shouts reacted to the burst of pink light around me.

“Yeah, I told you,” the Gwyllthean thug with the crossbow said resignedly.

“Know this, my child,” I intoned, holding out one bloodstained hand toward the bowman who was now gaping at me in shock. “I forgive you your transgression. For I know it was born of fear and pain, not malice.”

“Oh, fuck that and fuck you,” he growled, drawing another arrow.

“Rugin, don’t you fucking dare,” the bandit leader snarled. “I decide who gets jibbed in this outfit! Pop off without my orders again and your ass is next!”

“Peace!” I boomed. “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

“Okay, listen up, weirdo,” the boss retorted, turning back to me. “That’s some impressive mojo, but—”

“Ask yourself: what pain causes your man to lash out so?” I was actually starting to enjoy this; Heal hadn’t done anything about the adrenaline still surging in me, and I felt borderline manic at this point now that I wasn’t even injured. I raised both my arms skyward, really losing myself in my messianic performance. “What torment of the spirit so erodes the bond between mortal souls? What sickness of the mind assails him? Ask yourself this, but fear not! For I have come, and with me I bring healing!”

“Uh…” The bandit glanced at me, at the now shaken-looking archer, and at the Gwyllthean thugs, who were slowly trying to back up into the khora. “Sure, buddy. How about you settle down for a second while I deal with these townie assholes and then we can talk?”

“Behold!” I struck another pose, throwing forward my hand with such enthusiasm that droplets of blood sprayed from my fingertips in the direction of the man who’d shot me. “Your travails end, my brother, for I bring you healing!”

Immolate.

I’m afraid poor Rugin dropped his bow, and that was the least of his worries.

Everybody yelled and backpedaled; somebody fired an arrow, but it flew wild into the khora way over our heads. Rugin’s scream of utter anguish and terror seemed to fill the clearing with a physical weight, along with the blaze of light from the inferno which consumed him from the inside out.

Two of the bandits broke and ran, as did the third guy from Gwyllthean, the tracker. Both of his companions tried to, but they both tripped over obstructions on the ground; one went sprawling while the crossbowman landed on his butt, accidentally discharging his bolt into the khora foliage above us. The rest of the bandits retreated from Rugin, as any sensible person did from a fire.

None of the rest ran, though, after the first shock, and the entire audience stared in horrified shock, seemingly frozen, as the spell ran its course. The bandit’s voice gave out as the flesh which enabled it was reduced to charcoal; that period of silence in the middle there was almost the worst part before the healing magic began to take over and he recovered the ability to gasp and wail.

It ended, though, as it always finally did: with the victim curled up on the ground, struggling to breath and whimpering. In better physical health than he’d likely ever been in his life, and with a new set of nightmares that wasn’t going to go away any time soon.

Also, by the smell, this one appeared to have shat himself. Poor guy. After all that, I actually was ready to forgive him for shooting me. I had definitely come out the better for the confrontation.

“Alas,” I said solemnly into the terrified silence which fell, “it seems he had not paid the price. But it is done now, my child. You are cleansed by the fire, healed and born anew.”

I raised my bloody hand in a gesture of grandiloquent benediction.

“Go, and sin no more.”

Rugin let out another high, shrill scream, scrambling backward until he managed to get to his feet and went crashing away through the khora, leaving his fallen bow behind.

“Fuck this, I’m out,” the bandit leader announced, following suit. The rest of his men took that as their cue and went after him.

“Hold it,” I ordered as the two remaining Gwyllthean thugs started to get up to run themselves. They froze, staring at me in terror. “You two are a long way from home. Should I even bother to ask what business brings you out here?”

“L-listen, man,” the crossbowman stammered, “we’ve got no issue with you, all right? It’s just, it’s Lady Gray’s business. She wants to talk with you, that’s all. Just talk.”

And now they would live to report that I was not in league with the Olumnach-funded bandits, either. And also, just as crucially, that fucking with me was not a cost-effective proposition.

“I am on no one’s side but mine,” I said clearly. “I serve no master but myself. I have come to this land to heal, and so long as I am not interfered with, I shall do only that. You may tell your mistress this.”

“I, uh… Sure, Healer. I’ll tell her. But…” He swallowed heavily, and I couldn’t help noticing that he’d fitted another bolt into his crossbow and cocked the lever to prime it at some point during all the screaming. “Listen, right now Lady Gray’s only curious about you. See? Somebody with your power and no attachments, that’s big news. So, there’s a reward out. That’s it, just a reward; she’ll pay whoever brings you to her. If you start doing shit like that around Gwyllthean, she’s gonna end up issuing actual orders to deal with you.”

“Then for all our sakes, I hope no one around Gwyllthean does something so unwise as attempting to stop me. Don’t you?”

“Uh…”

“Very good, then,” I said, making my voice exaggeratedly pleasant. “Since we are still friends, I’m sure you won’t mind doing me the favor of spreading the word. The Healer should be left alone, by anyone who knows what is good for them.”

“Sure, I can do that,” he said, nodding frantically.

I started to turn away, then suddenly paused and shifted back. “Oh. And just one other thing.”

“Pleased with yourself?” Aster inquired as we strolled down the road toward North Watch, enjoying the midmorning sunshine and the complete lack of anyone attempting to follow us.

“Insufferably so,” I said honestly, holding up my new crossbow to admire it.

“Because I was gonna ask… I mean, that thing looks like it’s built to take smaller ammunition than standard hunting arrows. Is there a reason you didn’t think to have the guy hand over his quiver, too?”

“…oh, goddammit.”