Chapter Thirty-Three.

He did not, in fact, ‘love this’. I eventually won the argument by pointing out that not only had I solved the problem of acquiring parts for the caravan (a tiny stretch, maybe), but I’d also just have Lyr’Rael just ride with the villagers so she wouldn’t be taking up space on the ship. Once it was clear that he was only objecting to this because it originated from me and not because he had a legitimate reason to argue, he threw up his hands and stormed off.

“Fine, do what you want. Good luck explaining to Shani why you brought another girl back with you.”

Oh. Uh… I’m sure she’ll understand. I’ll just make sure to explain everything very, very carefully. As quickly as I can. And hopefully, she won’t set me on fire.

After all that, I finally had a few seconds to myself— which I immediately used to sink myself in a chair and throw a mental bulwark up against my impending nervous breakdown. The rapid switch between being too terrified to move and too angry to care left me reeling, and that was before the sucker punch.

They're alive. They're alive?? How? How are they alive? How did they survive? Are they ok?

There was only one 'they' the old witch could have been talking about, and the utter lack of information was driving me insane. Even now, I could still feel my skin distort subtly as my self-control worsened in agitation.

You can't just drop all of that and vanish! Just—

The wooden arm of my chair splintered violently in my grip, and I forcibly reigned myself in. Losing my temper again wouldn't help anyone, and as torturous as it was to have the information delivered like this, it was still more than I had before. It just seemed like everything I learned only left me with more questions and a more urgent need for them to be answered.

I took a few minutes to compose myself while the crew left to load up some borrowed wagons with our 'order' from the warehouse. Which meant I got to deal with breaking the news to my—former?— old enemy about her new travel arrangements. The makeshift hospital took up most of the temple's main floor, and the area was absolutely packed with people in various states of injury.

Luckily for me, the former emissary's platinum-blond hair stuck out like a sore thumb among the predominantly brown and black of the locals, so she was easy to find. It turned out to be doubly lucky, because as I got closer, I saw that she'd been wrapped up with so many bandages I'm not sure if I'd have recognized her without the hair cluing me in.

Lyr'Rael stiffened as I approached, and I put my hands up tiredly.

"Easy, I'm just here to talk."

She didn't quite relax, but she settled back into the cot. Lacking a place to sit in the crowded hall, I leaned up against a support pillar with a heavy sigh.

Might as well get this over with.

“So… Father Aeden says you need a ride out of here before the church’s reinforcements come.”

Her eyes narrowed at me suspiciously, before widening as she connected the dots.

“Are you joking!?” She hissed out a little bit too loudly, clawing with one bandaged arm at her glaive and struggling to rise. “I am perfectly capable of—”

“Get your too-proud arse back in bed!”

The shout cut across the noise of the hall like a gunshot, startling both of us (and pretty much everyone else nearby) as the healer— Miss Wyydham?— stomped over to push Lyr’Rael back down in the cot.

"I swear by all the gods, if I have to chain you to this bed until you're healed to my satisfaction, I will." The older woman said forcefully as she tucked Lyr'Rael back in the blankets before rounding on me.

"And just why are you agitating my patient…" Wyydham trailed off, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she looked me up and down. Abruptly grabbing my hand, she gave me a clinical once-over— pushing at the joints, stretching my fingers, and generally poking at me relentlessly.

Confused by the impromptu examination, I shot Lyr'Rael a questioning look that she ignored sullenly.

"Uh… hello?" I tried.

"Shush." Wyydham said without looking up, taking out a weird contraption that looked like a bizarre combination of a stethoscope and a voltmeter before poking me in the palm with it.

"Hmmm… No traditional endoskeleton, have to offset readings for the high energy content in the blood…" she muttered, while I just sighed and let her do… whatever this was. After reading the meter with a deepening scowl, she put it away and locked eyes with me seriously.

"That burning, raw sensation in your nerves is your body politely asking you to stop. There are limits, and being Eldborn does not exempt you from them. Healthy growth takes time, and magic is no exception. If you keep pushing at your current rate, you are going to melt your brain like pudding and you'll be exceedingly lucky to live out your days as a vegetable. There aren't enough mages in the world that we can afford to lose one to something as eminently preventable as aetheric overexposure. You must take better care of yourself. Now, as I was saying, why are you agitating my most difficult patient?"

I blinked owlishly while I took a moment to sort through the abrupt diagnosis, before sighing impotently.

"Believe me ma'am, I would love to slow down at this point. I can't promise to stop because I will literally die—” Again, I added mentally” —but I will take your advice as well as I can. Father Aeden asked me to take Lyr'Rael with us back to the caravan when we leave, and I was trying to… break the news."

"Hmm." Wyydham looked back and forth between us skeptically. “And how do you know each other?”

Well, I can't exactly say ‘we tried to kill each other to varying degrees of success’.

“Uh… Prior acquaintance?” I tried, immediately regretting it when both women looked at me incredulously, simultaneously expressing, ‘Really? That’s the best you could come up with on the spot?’.

“Hey, don’t judge me. The past is complicated, let’s see you come up with something better at a moment’s notice.” I sputtered defensively.

“I can, and I have.” Wyydham snorted. Turning back to Lyr’Rael she sighed heavily before taking the former emissary’s hands in her own. “Much as I would rather keep you here until you’re completely healed— again— the Father is correct in that we must get you out of our town before the temple forces arrive. They would see you turned out from our gates regardless of your condition, and would not see fit to equip you for travel as well. Truthfully… this may be your best chance."

The healer gave me a critical up-and-down glance and smirked.

"Anyone that bad at lying can’t be too nefarious, but the choice is yours. If you don’t want to go with him, I’ll do my best to get you healed up and equipped on your own.”

"Wow. Usually, I have to know people longer for that kind of shade." I chuckled as I rubbed one hand over my eyes tiredly.

Wyydham snorted but kept her focus on the bandaged woman in front of her. Lyr'Rael hesitated, looking warily at me before shaking her head with a determined scowl.

"I am not afraid." She said so quietly I wouldn't have heard it if I was still human. Turning back to Wyydham, she gave a single, decisive nod.

Well, this is awkward.

The trek back to the skips hadn't been too bad, with several powered carts piloted by some volunteer townsfolk making the trip go much faster than our hike out. No, the awkward part was the stares from the crew.

I couldn't help but feel like Grafton had explained our new passenger in a way that cast me in the worst light possible. The crew was all immensely protective of Shani, and it wasn't just the captain who'd given me a few dirty looks when we started spending time together. As we flew steadily back to the caravan and the judgemental stares increased, I just knew the vindictive brute was spreading every rumor his devious, tiny brain could think of.

Lyr'Rael though… even covered in bandages and strapped in so she was barely able to move, seemed to take every look her way as a personal challenge. Chin up, eyes blazing, everything short of shouting, "Come at me, bro!". She was definitely brave, but I couldn't help sighing in relief as the caravan finally came back into view.

I just need a few minutes to calm everything down. I'll talk to Shani and tell her everything; she already knows about the Emissary I fought, so she should understand. I'll drop Lyr'Rael off with the villagers first so she can get settled in, and maybe see if they need anything while I'm there.

We landed in the center of the stranded caravan in a prepared area, crewmen already rushing from every ship with hand carts to load up our haul of vital machinery and begin repairs. My feet barely touched the ground when Teadran rushed over his jaw dropping in shock as piece after piece of increasingly esoteric steampunk-esq core parts flowed from our successful mission.

“How??” He said as he gaped. “I’d hoped we could get enough for one or two and maybe salvage from the others…”

Grafton grimaced and skulked over unhappily, glaring daggers at me for some reason.

“Baines did something again. We just showed up, and everything was ready to go; we didn't even have to pay. Also he brought back another girl.” He said with an evil smirk.

“What!?”

Asshole!

“It’s not like that, I swear!” I shouted, trying to cut off Grafton from ‘explaining’ further. “She’s—”

“No. Just… just no.” Teadran said, exasperation clear on his face. “We are on the verge of being overrun and slaughtered. Mister Grafton, quit needling the boy and supervise the distribution of these parts. Baines, if you break Esshani’s heart I’m kicking you and that drunkard priest off the caravan."

Leigh— who'd been jogging up and caught that last statement— looked like he'd object for a moment before agreeing with a shrug. Teadran hurried off, barking orders full of jargon that I couldn't understand while Leigh approached me with exaggerated casualness.

"Sooo… please tell me you didn't actually do something to break Esshani's heart?" He asked hopefully.

"No, just had some complications in White Ford," I said, giving him a quick summary of events while I used a few summoned shields to help Lyr'Rael down from the skip. Leigh's eyes locked on to her cheek— and the rune hidden there— in a way that left no doubt, he knew exactly what was up.

"Kid, I'm really the last person to be preaching caution, but you need to be careful about that mark." He said. "It's not something they just hand out to slap your wrist, it's serious. Do you know what she—"

"Yes," I cut him off. "I am very aware of why she got that mark."

Leigh looked at me consideringly, but ultimately shrugged.

"Good enough for me, I guess. Welcome to the team, Miss Lyr'Rael."

She'd been staring, wide-eyed at the assembled caravan, but jerked her head over with a startled wince on hearing her name.

"What? Uh, I'm… it's good to meet you?" She said confusedly, flushing at being caught not paying attention.

"Likewise," Leigh said with a chuckle. "So she's staying with the villagers?"

I nodded, and we set off towards the nearby encampment, Lyr’Rael somewhat awkwardly floating along beside us on my improvised hover chair. The awkwardness increased with every step as we got closer to the village flotilla, and I got my first look at all the ‘renovations’ from after Nezzick’s little speech. In short, my rune was everywhere, and every person in sight was wearing the creepy, hooded mask that was the sign of their allegiance to me. I wanted to assure her it wasn’t a crazy cult or something but, uh…

This is literally a cult. I have a cult.

Even Leigh was shooting pensive looks at the villager’s enthusiastic adoption of everything me-related.

“They sure work fast.” He mused, with a tone of forced optimism that did not inspire confidence.

We were spared further hesitation by the rapid approach of Nezzick; the old shaman nearly sprinting over with an ‘honor guard’ of masked villagers.

“Great One! You have returned!” He shouted, making me cringe inwardly while Lyr'Rael shot me a suspicious glare.

"Uh, yeah." I cut in quickly. "Have things been alright while I was gone? Do you guys need anything?"

"As well as can be in the circumstances, Great One." The shaman waved aside my concern. "Though our supplies are growing… limited, with our hunters being unable to range far under this threat."

Ok, food. Yeah, there are a lot of people here… holy shit how am I gonna manage to feed three thousand people long term?

Shaking my head to keep from letting myself despair, I answered back.

"I'll try to figure out something. I'm the meantime, this is Lyr'Rael—" I said gesturing at the bandaged figure beside me. "Can you find her a place to stay for now?"

Nezzick looked her over curiously, his eyes gleaming behind his mask.

"Hmm… our space is limited, Great One, but we will make room. There is a chamber set aside for your personal use…" he trailed off leadingly.

I sighed in relief.

"That's fine, she can have it."

"As you will, Great One. Does she speak the true—"

"' She' can speak for herself." Lyr'Rael cut in defiantly before I could answer. Idly recognizing a fellow beneficiary of the [Soul Tongue] trait, I arched my eyebrows expectantly at Nezzick.

Good enough for you?

The old man grumbled, but with a few barked orders the honor guard he'd brought were quickly repurposed to carry Lyr'Rael's chair, to her immediate embarrassment. They quickly disappeared up the side of the larger vessel I was beginning to identify as the 'flagship' of the flotilla, and I took the opportunity to pull Leigh to the side.

"Ok dude, what do you know about a very, very creepy old snake-lady calling herself, 'Goodmother'?"