Book 8 Chapter 6

“When’s the last time you slept?” Neia asked.

Owain shrugged. “I slept a little on the way here,” he said, though he knew it was a lie. Even though they’d had a perfectly good wagon to sleep in, there just hadn’t been time. There was no telling what awaited them. The phoenix had already destroyed so many homes and who knew how many had perished in the flames. Those who accompanied him and the Chosen needed comfort, care. They needed their hero to look strong. To walk with them. He wasn’t hurt or wounded.

“Did you?” Neia asked.

“Of course,” Owain said. “It’s fine. I’m the Hero, afterall.”

“She’s not wrong,” Andreas said. “A little sleep wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Owain said. “Listen, we… we…” He stumbled, the world spinning around. He started to collapse forward, only for Neia to catch him.

“You really are difficult, aren’t you Hero?” Neia asked.

“What… did you do… to me…?” Owain asked.

“What needed to be done,” Neia said before her face melted away, revealing Chase’s behind it. “Sure took a lot of that tonic to start taking effect, didn’t it?”

“Chase? What?” Owain asked, the world getting dark lines on the edges of his vision. “The… the phoenix… it…”

“It’ll be fine,” Chase said in a soothing tone. “For now, Hero? Get some damn rest. If you were anything but the Hero, you’d be dead by now. Just sleep.”

“Can’t… too… much to…” Unfortunately, despite his objections, Owain could fight the tonic no longer.

When he woke up, four days later, he’d honestly slept better than he ever had. Even if he’d ended up giving Chase the biggest bruise on his shoulder for his little ‘prank’. Even if Andreas had helped, he knew the changeling was the mastermind. He always was. Still, as much as he hated to say it, his friend had been right. He really did need to sleep sometimes.

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Joan had to give Searle credit. He really was learning in a way the others weren’t. Perhaps they were just too used to being better than everyone else around them, or perhaps it was just she had never seen him raise to this level. Either way, he was learning to, slowly, predict her.

Not that it mattered, though. She had so many lifetimes of tricks to call on and he had so far to go that he still couldn’t keep up. Spears of darkness enveloped Searle, Andreas and Hardwin, killing them in an instant. She wondered if Andreas would be annoyed that she had killed him with his own element.

That made Joan wonder how Hardwin felt about the Inferno God. After all, he was supposed to be the master of flame, yet he could still melt in those flames. That had to be frustrating.

Joan moved half a step to the right, not even looking at Thalgren when he swung at her from behind, merely reversing her sword and piercing him through the chest. Interesting, he was back quicker this time.

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“Don’t drop me!” the man screamed, flailing his arms around wildly.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Hardwin asked.

Owain gave a sigh, he knew his friend would never actually do something like that. Though a part of him hoped he would. The man had certainly made his distaste of the Hero well known. Frankly, Owain just wanted this ordeal to be over. If he were a mere man he would have likely burst into tears on the spot with such vile accusations thrown at him. Or maybe he just felt so hollow he didn’t even have the energy to cry.

“Please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult--”

“Didn’t mean to insult?” Hardwin asked, cutting him off. “You accuse the Hero of being the cause of his own mother’s death and you didn’t mean to insult?” A small burst of flame flickered out of his right hand.

“Hardwin, stop,” Owain said softly. “Just… stop. You’re not going to drop him, there’s no point to scaring him.”

“I have half a mind to,” Hardwin said bitterly.

“Oh please, we both know you won’t,” Korgron said before she walked out onto the balcony, moving besides him. “You’re too good for that.”

Hardwin gave a sigh and lowered his arm slightly. “I should, though.”

“Please, please don’t,” the man begged.

“He won’t,” Korgron said. “Angry or not, too much control. A shame that. I, on the other hand?” Her tail flicked out, striking the back of Hardwin’s hand and making him drop the man. “Not so much.”

“Korgron!” Owain yelled before rushing to look over the edge. Damn it, he had to--

The man was laying there, a tower of dirt underneath him and slowly lowering him to the ground while he just stared at the sky with wide, terrified eyes. “What?” Korgron asked. “I just wanted to scare him a little bit. Korgron the Vile, no? He’ll be fine. I’m more concerned about a certain hero.”

“I’m fine,” Owain said before turning around.

“You’re not fine,” Hardwin said. “You’re anything but fine. Listen, just take a few days to—” He trailed off and stared over the edge of the balcony before giving a sigh.

“Damn it,” Korgron said bitterly. “We only just got here.”

Owain sighed and glanced down below. Sure enough, there was a messenger on their way. Judging by how fast they were galloping towards the keep, it was going to be something only they could handle. It always was. At least with the gate still in shambles they wouldn’t need to raise it. “Let’s go.”

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“Hero, this isn’t your fault,” Korgron said.

“Maybe not,” Owain said. “But that’s not really important now, is it? If we don’t go, any other deaths will be.”

“You were trapped, we were all trapped,” Korgron said. “That spell was--”

“I know,” Owain said before he started to walk away again.

It was his fault, though. He knew it. Whoever did this was likely looking for him. Probably.

By the gods why couldn’t they have just left this one thing alone? Hadn’t he lost enough?

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“Oh, nice,” Joan said when the elementals surrounded her. The Hero had never been any good at making them himself, he’d always preferred a more hands-on approach. Them learning how to better do that would be useful, though there was a big flaw.

The only one of them who really understood the way that magic worked was Korgron. So once she died, a moment later, quite a few of the surrounding elementals crumbled around her. They’d be back soon, though. She couldn’t stay ‘dead’ for long.

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Owain took a slow, deep breath. He could do it. He could do this. “That sounds absolutely delightful,” he lied.

“Oh, you truly ARE the Hero, aren’t you?” the young lady asked in a giggly tone that made him want to gag. “Such a charmer.”

Oh, he doubted she’d feel that way if she knew how he really felt. Then again, it wasn’t that was was bad. He was just… so… tired… He’d been fighting, walking, smiling and being the ‘Hero’ for days. All he wanted was to go and collapse on the ground. He didn’t even want to stop to wash the blood off or change. Sleep. All he wanted was just an hour of sleep. Why did they always want to throw a stupid party to ‘celebrate’ his victories? Did they really think what he wanted after fighting a veritable army of undead, stitched abominations was to listen to terrible music, eat tasteless food (or maybe he just couldn’t taste anymore) and flirt with whoever looked his way?

Why couldn’t they just leave him be? How he wished he could just tell them to go away, to leave him alone. But he knew that wasn’t a possibility, they depended on him. Needed him. He couldn’t let them down. The Hero had to do what nobody else could. The Hero--

“Hero?” Thalgren said, making him turn around.

“Hm?” Owain asked. “What is it?”

“Trouble,” Thalgren said. “Neia sent me to find you, she needs your help.”

Oh thank the gods. Owain gave a small nod to the woman. “Apologies, a hero’s job is never done.” Before she could object he was already escaping. When he glanced back, he could see Thalgren had ensured he was between the pair of them. The idea of the woman trying to get past the dwarf was laughable, no matter what she said, well…

Thalgren was the most stubborn and patient person he knew. She’d be more likely to die of old age before he’d let her go.

Of course, when Owain walked into Neia’s tent he froze. “What did you need?”

“It’s not what I need,” Neia said with a sigh before motioning towards the large, wooden tub in the center of the room, steaming with water. “Everyone else is healed, except you.”

“I don’t have any injuries,” Owain said.

“Not that anyone could tell under all that blood,” Neia said before getting to her feet and starting towards the tent. “But that’s not what I mean. Bath, take one. Now. Then get some sleep.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Neia said. “Leave the celebrations to us, for once. Otherwise I’ll have Andreas kidnap you off where ever he flees during these celebrations. Just get a few hours rest, then you can join us. Until then? Hardwin and Chase will keep a strict eye on this tent. If you try to escape, I will add an extra hour to your isolation.”

“Isolation?” Owain asked. “What, is this a punishment?”

“If it needs to be,” Neia said before starting to step out from the tent.

“Neia?” Owain said.

“What?” she asked, glancing back.

“Tell Thalgren thanks,” Owain said.

Neia sighed and gave a nod. “Just clean up and you can thank him yourself. You look like hell, rain can only cover up so much of that filth. Probably going to have to burn those clothes.”

Owain chuckled and shook his head, though a few moments later he was alone. When he finally stripped and slid into the hot water, he couldn’t help feeling a small rush of warmth in his heart that helped give him a little bit of strength.

Maybe he should at least try listening to them once in a while.

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The hell? Joan’s eyes widened when he piercing strike was deftly deflected by Searle. HE WAS KEEPING UP? HOW?

Of all the Chosen to keep up with her, she couldn’t believe it was him. But even as shards of ice, pillars of stone and torrents of blue flame enveloped the others, lashing out, his shield just kept being there to block the strikes. How? He wasn’t just--

When the next shard of ice deflected off it, she saw a flash of white light. What in the world? What was he doing? How was he--

Behind her. Hardwin. His sword was coming at her. But she deflected it once more with ease, her left hand shoving out to pierce him through the chest with a blade of ice.

Except the blade was blocked, suddenly, by a shimmering, bright shield.

How? What? Joan tried to get back, launching more and more strikes, but Searle was always there. She didn’t understand it. No matter where she struck, no matter how she struck, he was just there. She’d have almost called it teleporting, but that wasn’t it. This was different. It was as if he was in two, no, even four places at once.

Where ever the shield was needed, there he was. His shield wasn’t the only thing wreathed in blinding light anymore, either. So was he. It was almost as if his body was made of light, an unstoppable, immovable light. The others couldn’t hit her…

But she couldn’t hit them, either. Searle was the Shield, in every way. He was, in a way she had never even known possible, channeling his gods through him. The Hero had never seen anything like this. She’d never--

“Enough!” Joan yelled, making them all freeze in place. “Searle, what you’re doing, how?”

“What?” Searle asked, the light slowly dimming before he looked down at himself. The light began to fade. “I don’t… know. I just…”

“Yes?” Joan asked.

“I don’t know,” Searle said. “I had to protect them, us. You. All of us. I just… I had to. Then I started, well. I guess this?”

Joan stared at him for a few more moments before glancing to Korgron. “Can you send us back?”

“Finally time for a break, is it?” Korgron asked. “Fine.”

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Joan stared at the area around their camp fire. It was late, now. Very late. The sun was down. But even so, she could see clear as day. The ground around Searle was scorched and shimmering with light. Despite the fact the moon was in the sky and the sun was nowhere to be seen, the area all around them seemed to almost glow. As if the light had come and refused to fade so quietly once it was done.

Searle stared down at himself, his hands shimmering. “I did this?”

“My eyes,” Bauteut said with a low moan. “I even had them covered and that STILL hurt. Ow.”

Joan stared at Searle and, very slowly, a smile formed on her lips. “Searle, have I told you lately that I love you?”

“What?” all of the Chosen asked, staring at her.

“That’s new,” Joan said, motioning towards the Chosen of the Shield. “That? That is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. More importantly? I think we all have a new goal for you to reach.” Oh, she couldn’t believe she was saying this, Owain would have never said it. But she had no choice and, frankly, it filled her with glee. “I think we need all of you to be more like Searle.”

“Like me?” Searle asked, the color draining from his face.