He drifted in and out of consciousness as the healers tended to him, trying to ponder their gentle sein when he could. It felt even stranger than Coran healing, despite being from an Oken sein tradition. Perhaps because the disciplines were so fixed and separate here.

  Though the healers treated him, they approached him coolly. Slaten wondered if they would have done the same even without the fight. He had spent some early time in the healing house before it was determined that he lacked the aptitude for it, and it had not gone well. They also seemed to struggle with his non-Oken sein flow, which made him miss Laeri's flexibility and Elima's experience. If only he had been there to help her during the attack...

  Eventually his reverie was broken when he realized that his grandfather sat beside him. The old man stared down at him with aggrieved eyes and Slaten felt the first stab of guilt since he started the fight.

  "I'm sorry, grandfather."

  "You say so, but this old man must wonder if you truly are." His grandfather reached down and gently brushed the hair away from his face. "I will not ask your reasons. But I must tell you that I cannot protect you from this, especially since Rugen spoke against you."

  "Then what have the elders decided?"

  "There can be no decision made against an injured member of our community. Especially since some of the protectors testified that you did not seek to cause injury. But once you are healed..." Grandfather Jahlaten sighed and shook his head. "You will have two choices that would not bring shame upon us. First, you could return to the martial court and beg forgiveness. I am not confident that it would be accepted. Second, you could give up the way of the sword and accept another role in the village. This is what they will request, and what I would advise."

  "I understand, grandfather."

  "Will you accept their offer?"

  Slaten was already calculating how long it would take for them to finish healing him and considering where else he could train in preparation. "I'm sorry, grandfather."

  ~ ~ ~

  In the time it took his body to mend, Slaten had ample opportunity to reconsider his decision. Thinking back on it now, it felt impulsive and foolish, yet he wasn't sure that he would do anything differently. As he was now, he could not live here. His path took him further away, back to Ith Ire.

  That didn't mean it would be easy, however. He had enough money to support himself, but his coin would not be accepted in any Oken villages in the region. Perhaps he would need to begin his plans for other training early and engage in them on his journey back into the Chorhan Expanse.

  Two rather short healers entered his room, unfamiliar to him. Slaten tensed his body in preparation... until one pulled the hood of her robe back and revealed Teren's smiling face.

  "Hello, Slaten!"

  "Hello, Teren." He smiled at her, but his eyes wandered to the other small healer. "Who's your friend?"

  "Oh, that's Kagegen. He's here to keep watch!" Teren waved at him and the boy giggled before nodding seriously as if just remembering what he was supposed to do. He moved to the door and peered out, making himself look incredibly suspicious.

  Slaten reached up to touch Teren's wrist. "I missed you."

  "Me too." She bent down to hug him, and fortunately his injuries had healed enough that her squeeze barely hurt. "Father said that it wouldn't be right for me to come see you. I was going to wait until you were done, but then Rugen was saying scary things about you having to go away forever. So Kagegen helped me sneak away and I came to see you."

  The concern on her face made him feel another flicker of regret. "I'm sorry, Teren. I can't explain it, but I don't think I'm ready to live here."

  "You miss your friends, don't you?" She looked down at him with tears in the corner of those large eyes. "I think I understand. I miss Tani too, but... but I'm happy to be home again. There are more girls my age who don't grab my hair and it's so nice and peaceful here..."

  "I came this far so that you could stay." Slaten sat up and smiled at her. "But you're right, I need to go back and meet them. It isn't over. If I didn't go back, I would feel like I broke a promise I never made."

  Teren sniffed and nodded. She looked so young at that moment, yet he thought he saw understanding in her eyes. Though she didn't say anything, she remained at his side, fidgeting with her fingers. He decided to ask a question that had been on his mind.

  "I was surprised I didn't see you here. After you worked with Elima, I thought you might want to study as a healer."

  "Maybe. I'm not really sure." Teren looked down at her hands and tangled her fingers together. "Father says that our family doesn't need another healer. He... he tries to hide it, but he's worried about adult stuff. The other day I listened when he spoke to a Coran trader - he thought I couldn't understand, but I could. It sounds like all the adults are worried. Things are hard everywhere."

  Slaten nodded to cover the fact that he had nothing to say. He felt as though Teren was sacrificing something by not pursuing her talent as a healer, but who was he to say such a thing? It was her life, and among the Oken, one's life was never one's own.

  Before they could say more, the boy called out a terse warning, and not long after that, wooden shoes could be heard outside. Teren hopped up, smiled at him quickly as she pulled her hood around her face again, and then she and the boy ran out one of the side doors. He lay back and thought about what she had said without coming to any conclusion.

  In a handful of days his healing was nearly complete and the healers made him leave. Truthfully, he had been planning to leave on his own if they hadn't forced him. Though he had enjoyed the opportunity to meditate, improve his defensive technique, and circulate his sky sein, he quickly grew restless doing only that. There were too many good ideas he'd learned from the battle for him to sit and meditate.

  A good Oken would have gone and bowed to the elders of the martial court, even if he didn't plan to beg for forgiveness. There was simply no other way to restore the damage done to the community. Slaten did not walk toward the martial court.

  Slaten wondered if he had truly become as arrogant as the tales said outsiders were. He didn't feel arrogant, but would he know if he actually was? Part of him wanted to go and thank the protectors for what they had taught him, the healers for their work, and the people of the village for supporting him. But they would not accept those thanks and he knew he shouldn't offer them anything except his submission.

  And that he lacked.

  Since it was early in the morning, Slaten went back to the training hall. He stretched his shoulders and picked up one of the wooden swords, though he didn't raise it. Instead he aimed his free hand toward one of the straw practice dummies and gathered his sein.

  The burst shattered the straw in all directions, more focused than it had been before. Even before the straw had struck the ground, Slaten swung the practice sword, cutting the next target in half. He destroyed the entire row of them, mixing swordplay and sky sein. Though his bursts weakened at the end, only blowing a hole through the chest of the last training dummy, he was satisfied with the improvement for now.

  His theory tested, he returned to his grandfather's house to retrieve his possessions. When he entered, he heard no sounds and his grandfather was nowhere to be seen. Slaten frowned and stayed alert as he packed, never catching a hint of the old man. Was it possible that he was currently with the elders, bringing shame on himself to beg for mercy? Slaten could only hope not.

  At the doorway Slaten stopped. Even if he was leaving Oleph-Amm for now, it wouldn't be right to completely abandon all custom. He walked back through the house to the inner courtyard, knelt down, and gave his respects to the grave where his parents and other ancestors lay. As little as he knew them, he should do at least that much.

  "I thought you might simply leave me." The weak voice floated from behind him, making Slaten rise swiftly. His grandfather sat against the back wall of the courtyard, so still and silent that Slaten had entirely missed him when he entered. He moved to kneel in front of the elderly man.

  "I wouldn't do that, grandfather."

  "But you would leave us." Grandfather Jahlaten looked up at him, voice quavering but eyes still strong and clear. "Slaten, I understand that you have business outside the Oken and I do not condemn you for it. Perhaps it is the way of things for you to go and complete another task, as you did when you returned Teren to us."

  "Thank you, grandfather."

  The old man reached out and took his hand, wrinkled fingers surprisingly strong. "But if you do leave, I want you to understand that you will never see me again."

  Slaten tried to draw back, but his grandfather's fingers gripped him tighter.

  "I have lived a long life and I know my time is nearly finished. Perhaps there is something for you to gain in the outside world, but you must understand what it is that you give up." Grandfather Jahlaten stared at him with moist eyes. "Stay, Slaten. Rugen and his father are shortsighted bullies, which is the very reason that someone must stand up to them. I have seen the strength within you, and I know you can outlast them. You could have a good life here, Slaten."

  "Grandfather, I..."

  "Listen to me! In my youth, I fought as you did. But power is an empty path that leads to death, your own at best and someone else at worst. I chose to lay down my sword and took the harder path, but the richer one. The joy I have experienced building a life and a family here... it cannot compare to anything else in this world."

  Slaten considered his words in silence, many of them resonating with thoughts in his past. He respected his grandfather and wanted to take his wisdom seriously. Yet another part of him could not help but ask how his grandfather could know the path he had chosen was best when he had only walked one. All of them could only guess at the paths that lay ahead of them before they chose one and abandoned the others.

  "You have already made your choice, haven't you?" His grandfather let out a heavy sigh and squeezed Slaten's hands one more time before he pulled back and sat against the wall. "Don't forget who you are, Slaten."

  "I'm sorry, grandfather. Endure as the stone."

  "Even the stone does not endure forever."

  Slaten could only stare at the unexpected response, but his grandfather did not meet his gaze. Eventually Slaten bowed one final time and left, looking back once to see his grandfather seated peacefully in the courtyard. Then he closed his eyes and strode toward the exit of the village.

  Ahead of him, he saw Rugen and two protectors aligned with his family standing in the path, possibly waiting for him. It almost made Slaten reconsider and go back to speak to his grandfather. Perhaps he did have something to offer here, perhaps he could lead the village to something better.

  But he thought about that first Hero, his shining blade covered in blood, and knew that his grandfather had been right. He'd already made his choice.

  Instead of confronting them, Slaten vaulted over the village wall. Despite what he had done, they hadn't considered that he might break custom so flagrantly, so there were no guards outside to stop him. Slaten began to walk away, not looking back toward his home.

  Before he got far, he spotted a dark head peeking up from the grass, looking around. He realized it was Teren and swiftly moved to her, catching her off guard. But when she saw him her face immediately beamed, even though he could see that there had been tears on her cheeks. She wiped her face with one threadbare sleeve and smiled at him.

  "Goodbye, Slaten. I hope you can help everyone. Say hello to Tani for me."

  "I will." He bent down and hugged her one more time and her small hands clung to him fiercely. Eventually Teren pulled back a little, just enough to look directly into his face.

  "Promise me you'll visit me, Slaten. Maybe the others need you, but we need you too. Once the fighting is over, you'll come back, won't you? Please promise me."

  "I promise."

  They embraced again and pulled apart. Teren stared at him for a tearful moment, then forced a large smile. She ran back toward the village, though when she reached the entrance she stopped and waved to him. He raised a hand in response and then began walking away.

  He kept himself looking forward, thinking of all that he had to do. When Slaten finally looked back, he only stared at the dark grass blowing in the wind, the village lost in the distance.

  Chapter 59

  -

  "He has reached one essential conclusion: the majority of oddities regarding the phenomenon's strength can be explained by issues of human soul capacity. A greater capacity is likely less concern in the short term, but only the short term."

  -

  Every time Veron took a step, she felt it again. A white hot hook, deep inside her heart. It jerked painfully as she moved, sometimes so much that she nearly flinched visibly. Most of the time she could ignore it, one way or another, but now...

  Veron realized that it was over in a random, shitty little bar in a nameless village. She and Graenin had been traveling for some time, aimlessly enough that she knew it would happen sooner or later. But somehow she'd expected somewhere other than this dingy room, drinking shitty local beer.

  Graenin took one sip from his mug, grimaced, and set it down. "I'm going to head east from here. There's work to do in Estronn."

  "Yeah, I figured you'd be doing something like that sooner or later."

  "You could come with me." He sat forward, for once looking her straight in the eyes, no smirk in sight.

  "And do what? Have everyone call me mudman? Mudwoman? Fuck, I don't care either way."

  "You're more than that, and they'd see it. I've received new information about everything that's been happening there - there are rumors that the Deathspawn strategy in the region will change. Some new power is going to take control in Nol Ulscense. I can't confirm that, but I know for a fact that the Deathspawn are negotiating in Estronn instead of invading. There's work for anyone strong there."

  "There's work for the strong, maybe. I don't know about anyone." Veron took a drink from the shitty beer to confirm its shittiness. Yup, pretty shitty. "Look, Graenin. The resistance worked out for us, but you know you're more driven about these things than I am."

  He sighed and sat back in his seat. "So you wouldn't even try."

  "I'd try, but I'd fail. We didn't give a shit about the Coran resistance, but if you go back home, you'd actually care. And I don't think I could, in the end."

  "And you care about this?" Graenin gestured to the general shittiness. "What is there for you out here?"

  Veron didn't answer. She thought about the new look in Melal's eyes and the way he spoke, about the utter certainty she'd seen in the eyes of the past Heroes. She took another drink.

  Graenin sighed. "I don't want to say a bunch of emotional sh-"

  "Then don't."

  "Don't get yourself killed, Veron. If you stay here, I guarantee you that things will get worse. This Legend... whatever it is, if it's stopped, it won't be by people like us. It's going to keep growing. You have a good chance of staying alive anywhere else, but here? I don't see how anything can be worse than staying here."

  After slowly draining the rest of her mug, Veron slammed it down onto the table. She stared at the dripping interior for a while, then looked up at Graenin and spoke softly. "If it does keep growing, what happens when it reaches you? Do you keep running away?"

  He had no clever answer to that one. At least he had the decency to sit back and think about it, though he also stroked his goatee like a fucking idiot. She really did hate that thing, much as it tickled pleasantly... ah, fuck, she'd convinced herself into regretting it. Would have been easier if she'd just left in the middle of some night.

  "Well, it's your decision," Graenin said. He pushed his still-full mug away and stood. "If I see you again, I hope I don't regret it."

  With that, he left the bar without another farewell. Pretty good exit, and she found herself eyeing the swirling trim on his cape as he went. Then she hastily waved at the owner to order another mug of beer.

  Three mugs later, Veron realized that they hadn't fucked one last time. Well, obviously there had to be a last time, but she'd had in mind that they'd get it all out of their system before they went their separate ways. She'd have made it damn memorable. Satisfy herself for the coming dry spell, plus make him regret leaving her a bit.

  When had the last time been? It had been longer than normal, what with the fleeing from Deathspawn and the worthless little towns with no inn, just spare beds. She thought it was that night four days ago in the back of a different but equally shitty bar. That time had been okay. Veron raised a toast to that experience and drained another glass.

  But the beer wasn't doing enough for her. She'd accuse the bartender of watering it down, but that was probably what everyone drank here. That was how villages went, especially when the water wasn't good. Her sein relaxed to help her get drunk more quickly, but that wasn't going to be enough.

  Veron pulled out her flask and drank as much as she could until her eyes watered and her throat burned. She reached into her pack and pulled out the last bottle of wine she'd bothered to take with them. It'd just remind her of Graenin, so better to finish it all and get completely drunk.

  The alcohol burned down her throat, but not enough to distract her from the hook burning in in her heart. She could practically see the line tracing out into the Chorhan Expanse, leading her back into the mess. When she got drunk enough, she'd stop seeing the line.

  No amount of alcohol had ever let her forget about the damn hook. She might be able to think more clearly when drunk, but she could never escape the haze entirely. Veron took another drink and resolved to try harder this time.

  Chapter 60

  -

  "Lord Blue is most interested in these concerns of alleged prophecies. I remain highly skeptical if there is anything to them, but we must investigate what we can."

  -

  When they returned to Nelee territory, Tani was surprised to be located by scouts almost immediately. The group actually rushed them, fast enough that Laeri let out a dismayed sound and Tani drew her new sickle knife. But they didn't attack, just spreading out cautiously and letting one person approach them. Tani didn't see Janemi or anyone else she knew well, and so focused on the young man who seemed to be the leader.

 

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