Heroes, Chapter 11

Preface: Greetings, all! This is the eleventh chapter of the tale that began with “Heroes – Chapter 1,” and is the third story is a series that began with “What You Don’t Know,” also located on this site, although it features a mostly-different cast of characters.

As always, my standard disclaimer: The monster girls featured in this tale, and many elements of the setting, are based off of the works of Kenkou Cross, and as such this work is intended to be a tribute to his creativity. The characters, however, are my own. Pray neither sue nor steal; I have very little to take, but I love that which is mine.

Chapter 11 – Stigma

     Unlike his usual strolls across town, Simon’s walk from the Second Home to the training field on New Haven’s outskirts was an introspective amble, his steps slow as he mulled over, again and again, the conversation he had just had with Mary Kramer.  For once not distracted by the novel sights and sounds of this nascent town, he fought to see where he had misstepped in that talk, if it was indeed him that was at the root of her distress.  It pained him to think that he had said something to hurt her, or had missed something that was bothering her – she was one of the people he trusted and cared for the most, and he felt responsible for her having come here, so far away from her birthplace in Videre.  Still, even as he gnawed on the issue, his brain could find no reasonable suggestion for what he could have done to Mary – though his heart, quiet and coy, had its own understanding, though it offered few helpful hints.

     He was still deep in thought as he left behind the last partial buildings, skeletons too incomplete to even suggest their final intended shape, and passed the rows of tents and campsites still used by those who didn’t have homes built yet.  This area always left Simon feeling a tad guilty, since he didn’t see himself as any more worthy of the large home that he lived in, half-complete or not, compared to any of those who lived in these shabby settings.  It was clear, though, that many of those who did still dwell here saw things differently, as many of them waved enthusiastically to Simon as he passed.  Most he recognized, though he assumed some reacted just out of seeing him as one of those close to John Foster.  Shouting greetings back to those he knew dragged him at least partially out of his musing, though it only lasted until he reached the last of the campsites and took the path that led into the plains north of town.

     It wasn’t a far walk from there to the low ridgeline that marked the site of the training grounds.  Even with the heat of the afternoon sun, that treeless bluff was populated by a smattering of spectators, their attention turned towards the flat area beyond and below.  Simon veered to the right, away from the dirtworn trail that led up that rise and instead towards the narrower path that led down and around it.  He soon rounded the bend to come within view of the foot of the bluff, which seemed likely to him to be the bed of a long-dried tributary of the river that framed the eastern side of New Haven.  Now, it was a wide, flat field that had become festooned with the marks of its purpose: training dummies, cordoned fighting rings, and racks of practice weapons, as well as pairs of warriors in the midst of mock combat surrounded by milling fighters waiting their turn.  It seemed to Simon that every time he visited the field, more and more women had arrived to join either the spectators above or the fighters below, and today was no exception.

     Simon was always surprised by the variety of fights he witnessed as he made his way through the loafing warriors awaiting their turn for a bout.  In some small squares, women grappled or circled, wrestling their opponents to the ground or being thrown down at their rival’s feet.  In wider circles, duelists with wooden weapons of an astounding array of shapes and sizes clashed with quick strikes or ringing blows.  In the biggest spaces, onlookers stared at the more acclaimed combatants, and Simon often saw money changing hands on these mock battles, as off-duty lizardmen faced down swaggering rogues, or slim martial artists bet the supremacy of their styles against densely-muscled carpenters.  It was like nothing he had ever seen before, even among the martial training halls of the Holy Orders, where the only laughter had tended to be mocking and cold, and the shouted commands of trainers were replaced by the hubbub of casual conversation or sporadic cheers that were ever-present here.

     Wandering further into the crowd, Simon found the best landmark he could have expected in his search for his kobold lover.  Standing a head taller than most of the monsters around her, Huo Proudfang was one of the most physically-imposing people Simon had ever met in his life.  Her body mostly bared, she was muscled to the point that she seemed as hard as iron, with two noteworthy exceptions that were just as impressive despite breaking the general rule of forbidding strength.  Her arms and legs ended in massive feline paws, striped in orange and black, which were tipped by dagger-length claws that looked ready to chop through iron, though Huo often kept those natural blades retracted.  She had a mane of deep orange hair that extended down to the long striped tail that waved behind her.  Her face was haughty and cold, her cheeks marked with black stripes that reminded him of a cat’s whiskers, though he would never voice that opinion within the chance of her overhearing.  Huo was apparently a jinko, a kind of tiger woman from the Far East that often specialized in the martial arts.  It seemed that jinkos were rare in this part of the world, though the same was true of many of the types of warriors that made use of this field, some of them having come all the way from the mythical “mist continent” to the east chasing a rumor of a wandering master of combat.

     As intimidating as Simon found Huo, it seemed that many others felt the same way about her, since her scant appearances in the sparring rings were treated as noteworthy occasions.  He almost dreaded the inevitable day that the ogre Kana and Huo decided to square off, though bookkeepers had been pestering both of them with the idea.  Instead, the proud jinko served mostly as an instructor, earning her keep by giving lessons to the younger and less-experienced fighters as she bided her time here in New Haven.  Gina was one of those who had ended up under the jinko’s tutelage, and Simon approached Huo now in the hope that she would be able to steer him in the direction of his kobold mate.

     The jinko noticed him coming, and offered a sharp smile in his direction as he approached. “Ah, the healer, just in time,” she commented, her voice a baritone growl that seemed dangerous enough without the rest of her.  Simon believed that Huo liked him, or at least found him useful, though that hardly put him at ease.  Turning her head, she raised her hand to motion to someone further off, before glancing back to him. “Your girl’s in good form today.  Fun night last night?”

     Simon blushed at the question, but he looked to the nearest circle to find Gina squaring off against another woman, the pair circling each other warily.  Gina’s opponent was pale-skinned with darkly-furred arms and legs, and seemed to be some sort of bear-creature.  Like Huo, she wore only perfunctory wraps to cover her most intimate assets, though she was considerably softer-appearing than the tiger woman.  Despite that, there was a smooth grace to her motions as she prowled around the ring, and she deftly shifted the staff she carried – a still-green stick, from some plant Simon didn’t recognize – with a fluid competence that hinted at her skill.  

     In comparison, Gina seemed far less intimidating, though Simon confessed bias to himself.  He remembered too well how she had looked when they had first met, back in the stables of Videre’s inn, and he saw that in her still despite the tension in her body as she prepared to lunge.  Her pacing was much less restrained than that of her opponent, and she was hunched lower to the ground, but as she came around in her circling to face in his direction Simon could see a feral intensity in her expression that sent a shiver up his spine.  He could tell she was having fun even before they charged at each other, the staff cutting through the air as Gina dove and lunged, coming close to her rival but always being fended off at the last moment.

     “She’s a quick learner,” Huo commented, watching the fight with narrowed eyes.  Simon had to agree; he had come here more than once to bring Gina food or just to cheer her on, and the difference in her skill over time was readily apparent.  Her form wasn’t that of most of the fighters in the other rings, or even her opponent, as Gina moved like a wolf going in for the kill, shifting from wary pacing to darting charges at the other woman’s flanks, retreating whenever the staff scythed in her direction, constantly pressing and harassing the bearwoman with feints and flurries before falling back to prowl once more.  Her opponent didn’t rely on defensive posturing, often lashing out with stabs or wide swings, but Gina was just as swift, darting to and fro, from side to side, taking those attacks as a chance to counterassault. “She’s raw, but a natural with beastmagic,” Huo explained, oblivious to her own pun, watching the fight with a tight grin.  Sure enough, Simon could see an amber glow around Gina’s body.  According to his research in John’s tower, that was the sign of theriomancy, an enhancing magic that was born from instinct instead of intent, and the property of monster women who were incredibly in tune with the feral side of their heritage.  Even knowing that, though, he couldn’t help but wince as the staff smacked against Gina’s warding paws several times.  Gina’s toothy grin remained unchanged, however, and her darting paws came closer and closer to reaching beyond the warding staff.

     “Oh, do you mind?” Huo asked, and Simon looked away from Gina’s bout to notice another woman standing next to them.  Actually, ‘girl’ was a more appropriate label, as the blackscaled lizardman was half the height of Huo, and her face was twisted in childish peevishness as she cradled one wrist to her chest. “Little Haruki here decided to show off too much, tried to handspring away from her opponent like she has seen her older sister do.” The lizardgirl looked away with a sullen frown, and Huo’s teasing grin spread. “Pain is a good teacher, but she’ll need that wrist for the thousand practice swings her teacher assigned her.”

     “Of course.” Simon stepped closer to the young lizardman, extending his hand. “May I?”

     Haruki glanced at him suspiciously, but his soft smile seemed to quell her anxiety, and she silently extended her injured hand towards him.  He reached out, gently holding it as he inspected the swelling.  It wasn’t a severe sprain, but her slight wince as he brushed against it told him that it was enough to limit her mobility for a while.  Satisfied that the injury wasn’t more than it seemed, he closed his eyes and focused, reaching out with his mind to feel the wound that lay under his fingertips.

    Healing magic wasn’t something he had learned as an Inquisitor-Errant.  In fact, back in the Hellenistic Empire all healing was the exclusive domain of certain types of clergy, with the sole exception of higher-level Inquisitors… and for them, it was only intended to help prolong ‘interviews’ of captured heretics.  Not long ago, Simon’s care for an injury like this would have been a matter of an icepack and patience, but an unexpected blessing had offered him a chance to learn a different way.  One night around a week after he had arrived in New Haven, when he had gone home and to bed early while Gina and Sarah were spending a late evening at the half-built Second Home, he had fallen into a fitful sleep.  When he was woken by the arrival of his lovers, both of them wearing sloppy grins and reeking of Charles Kramer’s ale, he had discovered something on the pillow next to his head: a familiar book of prayers.  He had seen it before, back in the Chapel of Divine Revelation’s sealed study, where it had rested alongside the journal of Paul the Priest.  It was full of prayers and hymns devoted to the goddess of wisdom Athena, from the days back before she had become known as the Fallen Goddess – and amidst those devotionals were prayers dedicated to requesting healing.  Simon hadn’t let himself wonder too long how the book had found its way from Videre all the way to his bed, though this morning’s revelation from the old man that the cathedral had been plucked away to the Fallen Goddess’s realm of Pandemonium added to his understanding of what had happened.

     Even though he was new to healing, Simon had taken to it surprisingly readily in his previous attempts.  He felt his mana reaching out as he mentally recited the words of a minor healing prayer, and within a moment he could feel the wrongness coming from the sprain: a stagnancy in the girl’s mana, centralized under his fingers.  He pushed out, letting his own mana seep into the wound to encourage it to circulate – and as he did, he felt more energy flowing through him, coming from somewhere else entirely.  That mana was foreign, hot and sticky and tingling, but as it poured through his body and into the girl, he could feel the congestion breaking up and fading away.  When he opened his eyes a moment later, it was to discover the girl looking at her wrist with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed and pupils dilated as she breathed heavily. “Wow,” she gasped, and looked up at him with wonderment.  Simon bowed his head to her silently, acknowledging her unspoken gratitude, and looked up to nod to Huo, who was watching with an approving grin. 

     “You’re handy to have around,” the tigerwoman noted, and Simon shrugged humbly in reply.

     “I’m only really able to handle minor things like this,” he admitted.  Apparently, according to John, more substantial wounds took much more knowledge to address.  Only by understanding the body’s natural state, and what was wrong with it, could more grievous injuries be healed.  Still, that had given him one more thing to study, on top of the other prayers from the book and the books of arcane spells John had gathered for him.  Simon felt overwhelmed at times with all he had to study, but at the same time he felt more free in his search for knowledge than he ever had back in the capital city of the Empire.

     “Thank you!” offered Haruki, and when he turned back to her she deeply bowed.  She straightened, beaming up at him with crimson cheeks, and he smiled in return, reaching out to place his hand on her head.

     “Be safe in your practicing,” he blessed her, mentally reciting a brief protective prayer and feeling the rush of divine mana once more, and her grin grew as she nodded and turned to rush back to the practice circle she had come from.

     “You’ve earned yet another fan,” rumbled Huo, arms crossed as she looked down at Simon, who could only chuckle in response.  He started to say something else, but was interrupted before the words could reach his lips, knocked bodily to the ground by a sudden lunging assault.

     “H-hey!” Simon protested feebly, laughing under the barrage of kisses and licks from his canine paramour. “You’re wet with sweat!” Gina did not care in the least, nor did she notice the way other monster women were watching her affectionate mauling of her lover – or, if she did, then it only redoubled her efforts.  Simon’s protests were silenced as her lips found his, and he shifted uncomfortably as she increased the duration and pressure of those kisses, all too aware that she was basically straddling him in the middle of the crowd.

     Finally she broke from his lips, and they both gasped for breath.  He blushed at the shameless twinkle in her eyes, and she reached out to muss his hair as she bit her lower lip, her tail beating the air behind her in glee. “I missed you too,” he chuckled, and with that placation she finally rose from his lap, helping him back to his feet.  He dusted himself off as Gina turned her attention to Huo, who was already lecturing her on the mistakes she had made during her sparring without missing a beat from Gina’s amorous attack on her lover.  Simon stood by and listened as the kobold nodded along to her teacher’s words, pleased to see that she was just as devoted to her own studies as he was.

     After a minute, Huo patted Gina on the shoulder, and the kobold nodded to her teacher before turning back to Simon.  She smiled at him, but the expression faded after a moment, and her head tilted to the side as she stared at him inquisitively.  He blushed, surprised his worries had been so transparent, and as Huo stepped away to answer a shouted question he moved closer to Gina. “It’s Mary,” he admitted. “I stopped by Second Home earlier, and we spoke.  She seemed… really upset, and I don’t know why.”

     Gina looked at him for a long moment.  Finally, one of her eyebrows raised, and she reached out to rest one paw on his chest. “Me?  Wait, are you saying that I…?” Simon asked, his shoulders slumping.  Gina didn’t look away, her gaze intensely reading him as he glanced to the side, trying for yet another time to remember what he possibly could have said to hurt his friend. “I don’t know what I did that-” With a huffed sigh, Gina shook her head, and tapped her own chest.  Simon’s face brightened. “Are you saying you’ll speak to her?” Again the eyebrow spiked upwards, and this time Gina’s paw motioned between him and herself. “Ah.  We’ll speak to her.” Simon was glad that he had gotten used to reading his tight-lipped lover’s wordless communication; while he now knew that she could speak, she rarely chose to.  That made him appreciate even more her offer to help him talk to Mary. “Tonight, then?” Gina nodded, and her smile was thin and contemplative, but she reached out to hug him tightly, and he returned the gesture, pressing her tightly to his chest. “Thank you.”

     A moment later, and Gina was gone, returning to the circle to face off against the bearwoman once more.  Simon waved to her, but before he could turn to leave he noticed that Huo had returned to his side. “By the way, healer,” she rumbled, and he warily noticed a devious edge to her smile, “another favor, if you wouldn’t mind…”

     “Go ahead,” he prompted, reminding himself that Huo had taken on Gina as a pupil for free, though he assumed his connections to John likely had something to do with her generosity.

     “I got to spend the morning waiting in line to talk to your council here,” Huo said, her tone dry. “They have promised to help send workers to improve our training grounds, while we wait for builders to be free to start construction on the arena.  Still, it seems that everyone is asking for the same thing at once… I got to listen to two horsewomen bicker for an hour about wanting two different temples for wedding ceremonies.” It was not hard for Simon to guess what she thought about the experience, or the centaurs in question, from her sour tone. “If there is anything you could say to Lord Foster-”
    “I’ll try to see what he can do,” Simon offered, though he had little expectation of meaningful success.  While great numbers of carpenters and masons had come from the Demon Realms of the east, along with Goslar’s native workers, there was just simply too much work to be done for things to be wrapped up quickly.  Construction was mostly a matter of necessity first, though John had allowed personal connections to get a head-start on their own projects.  Still, even most of those served a community purpose, like the Kramers’ tavern or the restaurant run by Roger’s friend.  Simon supposed this was no different, since so many of the monster women were making use of the sparring ground, and he could see that many of the areas had lines of fighters waiting for their turns to use a ring. “Most of the farms are set up, so I should be able to get some people to help remove rocks from over there so you can expand the rings further out.  Also, John has talked about erecting posts and using some of the tents that aren’t needed any more to keep the sun off this area, and I’ll see if we can’t get people to run a wagon full of casks of water from the river once a day so people don’t overheat,” he offered gamely, and the tigerwoman nodded as she considered the idea.     

     “That would be nice.  Just make sure that the tarps aren’t along the south, eh?” Simon blinked at the request, glancing in that direction, only to realize the reason behind her suggestion.  Even from down here, he could see the shapes of people lounging along the ridgeline to the south, watching the fights below as they chatted or had their lunches. “No better encouragement than an audience,” the jinko grinned, and Simon laughed, nodding.

     “I’ll make sure he knows,” he agreed, and the tigerwoman laughed, clapping him on the back with enough strength to send him lurching forward.

     “You’re a good man,” she barked, her grin displaying gleaming fangs. “Come back soon; you’re too useful to get away for long.” She offered him a brief wave, and with a final glance in the direction of Gina, who was vaulting over her opponent to strike at the bearwoman’s back, Simon began to make his way back towards town.

     As he retraced his steps back up and towards the south, Simon let his mind wander onto new topics, reassured that, with Gina’s help, he would be able to help Mary with whatever had been eating at her.  Thinking of Gina brought to mind how quickly she had improved since she had first started training with Huo, especially compared with his own directionless studies.  Sure, he had learned a few new spells, including healing prayers, but that felt insufficient, especially in light of the fears that John and the others had of the Orders seeking out New Haven.  He had to be diligent in preparing for battle, since it was inevitable, but his experiences here were so different from his training back in the capital that he could barely tell if he was improving.

     That worry brought to mind something John had shown him once, back when Simon had helped the former Hero in his efforts to recover texts from the tower’s library.  The tower’s former owner, John’s mentor and foster-father, had maintained an impressive personal library.  Over a century had passed, though, since the town had been abandoned, and the tower had been damaged during the attack that had razed all of the other buildings and killed most of the residents, including that wizard.  In that time, moisture had seeped into the once-sealed chamber of the library, and rodents and other pests had managed to infiltrate after the wards protecting it had faded away, and thus many of the texts were damaged, often beyond all repair.  Others, though, had miraculously weathered the time without harm, and Simon had volunteered to help John sort between the two.  It had been then that John had found the old chart…

     “Would you look at that?” John laughed, and Simon glanced over from a mildewed text that, for all his efforts, seemed to just be a tome of stew recipes – or perhaps a list of exotic poisons, he couldn’t be sure.  He blinked as he saw the wide, sloppy grin on John’s face, an uncharacteristic expression for the normally-taciturn warlock, and John turned the large piece of parchment to face towards Simon with childish glee. “I haven’t seen this thing in ages!  My master gave me some of my first lessons from this…”

     Curiosity piqued, Simon drew closer.  The paper was faded, but he could see that it predominantly featured an illustration of a six-pointed star, with the top and bottom points being longer than the others.  From the top point, extending to the lower pair of side points and between them, red lines formed one triangle, while a matching mirrored one was formed by blue lines from the bottom point and the upper sides.  Thinner green lines connected each of the points together, forming a web. “The Fundamentals of… Body and… Soul?” he read aloud from the title, which was in an elaborate script that had faded slightly.

     “It’s an old thing,” John admitted, still wearing that nostalgic smile as he took his own turn looking the diagram over. “It felt like every different culture at the time had their own version, and no two agreed on something as basic as this, but it was a good training tool nevertheless.” He glanced over to see Simon giving him a contemplative stare. “I take it your teachers in the Orders didn’t show you anything along these lines?” John hazarded, and Simon shook his head slowly, looking again at the diagram and trying to read the annotations at each point of the star. “Of course not.  Imbeciles,” John groused, walking away with the paper towards one of the small, book-laden tables that they had been using to sort out the texts that were in good enough shape to be saved. “Here, let me show you, then,” he offered, and Simon’s step was hasty as he came closer, eager to understand what had apparently once been common knowledge.

     Taking on a stentorian tone, unconsciously similar to that of his long-dead mentor, John began to trace the triangles. “The red lines indicate the aspects of Body: Stamina, this major node, and the two lesser ones, Strength and Agility.  The blue lines, the aspects of Soul: Mana, down at the bottom, and Awareness and Focus.” John tapped each in turn, moving from the distant points to the one on the left of the paper, then the right.  Simon nodded along, but was grateful when John glanced at him to clarify. “Basically, a fighter will always need the stamina to continue going, but some warriors focus on power while others are more mobile and dextrous.  Cristophe, for example, could vault and dive, and he could land ten strikes every time Adam cut once, but he tended to get tired pretty quickly.” John laughed at that, despite the sadness in his eyes. “Alex was in the middle between those, and Percival was another agility-type.  Theo was all strength – I watched him take an ogre’s hammer to his shield and shake it off.” 

     “And Adam?” Simon asked curiously. “I guess a balance of all three physical aspects?”

     “Partially right, but fighters also need the aspects of Soul too – more on that in a moment,” John explained, then let his finger drop to the blue triangle’s bottom point. “Mana is necessary for everyone, since warriors use it for their techniques, but it is most important for spellcasters.  These two points, though, have to do, for you, with how your spells are shaped.” He tapped the one he had named Focus. “Just like Strength, the power of your spells relies on Focus.  This also lets you change some attributes of your spells, like expanding a barrier wider, or casting a spell at something further away, or spreading its effects to your allies.  It draws off of your mana, just like using their strength and agility exhaust warriors, but without strong focus, your spells are much more limited in scope.” His finger slid over to the other dot, which was placed above Agility. “Awareness has to do with your ability to diversify your spells.  For example, it’s the difference between casting one Firelance, or several.  Mages with enough awareness and mana are sometimes even able to cast multiple different spells at once, though that is pretty rare – my master was a famous hero, and he could manage three different spells at once, but that’s the most I’ve ever heard of.” John shrugged. “Imagining multiple different spellshapes at once takes a level of mental dexterity that’s hard to achieve.”

     Simon nodded, considering John’s words.  It made sense, especially in light of his own experiences.  He could manage to cast spells that lasted a while, and then go on to cast another, but the idea of casting different spells simultaneously seemed headache-inducing to him.  The only person he had seen do so was… “Lecter Themras,” he said aloud, and John nodded, following his pupil’s train of thought.

     “Yeah, he is a nice example – though that’s about the only nice thing I can say about that psychopath,” John admitted. “His last barrage at you, with multiple Firelances and that huge Arcane Blast, shows the difference pretty well.  He made that Arcane Blast huge through Focus; he cast it at the same time as all of those Firelances aimed at different targets through Awareness.”

     Simon nodded, mulling this over.  So that meant, when he had expanded his own Spellshield to cover all of his friends, he had been using Focus to modify the spell.  He frowned, something else coming to him. “Themras wasn’t always as powerful as that.  I’d never seen him cast multiple spells at once, or anything nearly as strong as those spells were.  He could cast advanced magic, but…”

     John nodded, his own gaze going introspective. “Yeah, your insane friend there had tapped into something powerful, and I can’t tell you what that was.  I can say that, with enough mana, both Focus and Awareness become easier, and he was glowing with zeal, so…” John shrugged, then glanced back to the paper. “To wrap this up, just remember: you are supposed to aim for balance.  Warriors need awareness in dealing with multiple opponents, and focus to handle duels.  Mages need agility to avoid attacks, and strength to deflect them.  Warriors use techniques by tapping into their mana, while mages are useless when they are exhausted – it all comes together.”  At that, he tapped the center once more. “The only hero I saw to perfectly achieve that balance was… well, you can guess.” The face of Adam Milton, the Holy Martyr, flashed through Simon’s mind, and he nodded to the other man as John laughed and rolled the parchment once more.

     “Come on, there’s better stuff to find in all of this,” John prompted Simon with a chuckle and a gesture towards the awaiting stacks, though the priest didn’t miss the fond glance that the former Hero gave the parchment as he sat it atop the stack of papers that were to be preserved for the library’s next incarnation.

     Simon was still mulling over that diagram and its meaning as he made his way back into the more-finished sections of New Haven.  If he applied that theory to others he knew, it continued to make sense: Gina was a very agile fighter, but focused all her mana on empowering her own body.  He hadn’t had many chances to see Sarah in combat, but he knew she was capable of a wide variety of spells, as well as fond of using lupine familiars in battle, so she could go either way between focus and awareness, he supposed.  Miss Ceann was a mix of agility and strength, while Roger’s mate Priscilla was definitely strength-specialized…. 

     Even as he meandered up to the door of his house, Simon was lost in thought.  He had little else to do, with the others busy and John distracted by his guest, so he had returned home without a greater plan in mind.  His present train of thought reminded him of his need to study – though choosing between the prayers in the hymnal and the spells in the books John had loaned him was a decision he struggled with.  Healing the young lizardman did give him the idea of seeking out some more anatomical texts, though he knew those would be harder to obtain, since monsters had been vastly different in the days of John’s master, and thus the library would be unlikely to have anything useful, even among the works that had escaped damage from the elements.

     Simon unlocked and entered his house, brow furrowed as he considered his best path forward in his studies, but something drew him up short.  He glanced to the side, towards the unfinished sitting room across from the dining room, and started as he discovered it was occupied.  Sarah sat atop the long couch there, leaned forward over the small table as she studied a large piece of paper.  After a moment, even from where he stood Simon could recognize it as the map that the old man Eli had altered during his brief visit to John’s office earlier that day.

     “I had thought you would be working in the tower, like you usually are this time of day,” Simon commented, stepping into the sitting room.  It was barely furnished, with a couple of chairs and the couch, as well as a large padded mat that Gina loved to curl up on when she wasn’t laying in Simon’s lap.  All of those furnishings had been provided at John’s expense and insistence, and came in handy with the occasional visitors that dropped by to ask something of Simon. “But I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his mind returning to the matter with Mary.

     Sarah glanced up to him with a sharp-edged smile. “I like to be unpredictable, and keep you on your toes,” she suggested sardonically. “But, before you go on, I should tell you to expect company.” She said nothing more, glancing back to the map with analytical eyes and tracing lines with a single pale finger, even as Simon stood staring at her.

     “Let me guess,” Simon relented with a sigh, playing into her favorite game. “You’re here, instead of the tower, so it’s likely someone from there.  I doubt it would be Miss Ceann, since she’s busy with John’s guests.  Lady Mephis is out on the town, so she’s a possibility, but she could just as easily speak to me at the tower if she had wished, even if she had wanted to talk to me away from John – and I expect I would have found you tidying the room if it was going to be someone so important.  Which leaves…” An authoritative rap at the door drew him up short, but, after he glanced towards it, his eyes returned to find Sarah offering him a satisfied grin. “I guess I should get that,” he concluded, hurrying to open the door.

     Sure enough, John Foster stood outside, though something about his appearance caught Simon off-guard.  For one, instead of the ornamental armor he had worn earlier in the day to meet the old man, the lord of New Haven was dressed in his more casual attire, though Simon couldn’t recall the last time he had seen John wear it outside of the tower.  His stance, too, was enforcedly casual, though there was a tension that paced within the cage of his bones that kept the illusion from being effective.  A glance at John’s face was enough to discover the chagrined nervousness there, like a child being called to the fore by a scolding parent, and he looked up at Simon with a hint of relief. “Good afternoon,” he said, lamely. “I, ah, was asked to come to discuss some matters of-”

     “Get in here, Master,” came the voice of the one acting as aforementioned parent, Sarah’s tone icy and sharp enough to send a chill up both men’s spines, “and finish telling Simon the story you owe him.”

     A minute later, and Simon found himself seated upon the couch beside Sarah, who was still looking over the map, albeit with a smile worthy of a contented housecat dropping off its hunting trophy at the door of its owner.  Simon himself was far less confident, especially when he glanced over to see John leaning forward in the nearby chair, his fingers templed and wearing a sullen, haunted expression.  While Simon was accustomed to Sarah’s occasionally-biting tongue, it was almost refreshing to see that he was not its sole target, and that her former teacher could be cowed by it just as much as himself. “My master here has a nasty little habit of leaving stories unfinished,” she said off-handedly, not gracing John with even a glance as she scoured the map, “especially when those stories make him look bad.  After he explained to me what you all had discussed earlier today, I asked him to come and give you the ending.” Simon glanced over to regard John’s clouded expression, before looking back to his disinterested lich lover, and then back once more. “He owes you this one, at the least, if he intends to ask for your help.” That sharp tone all-but-audibly gleamed.

     “Fine,” John exhaled, as if the word had been dragged up from his bowels, “I’ll finish where I left off.” He gave Simon a glance that seemed almost commiserating, and once more, as he had often in the past, Simon wondered at what Sarah must have been like when she had been alive, back when she was John’s student, before she had fallen ill and then been raised to unlife by her father. “She’s right, you do deserve it, but… I’m not too proud of the next part of my story.”

     Simon nodded, choosing silence over the possibility of distracting the warlock, and leaned back in his seat.  As he did so, Sarah also settled back into the couch, bringing the map with her to study but snuggling against his arm as she did so, as if to suggest that she was apart from the coming conversation yet still close at hand if she needed to keep things from derailing once more.  John, for his part, looked mostly to the floor, lost in his own thoughts and regrets.

     “After the death of the Dark God, we Heroes went our separate ways.  Adam and Lilith went east, to make a new home for themselves.  Percival and Christophe returned west.  I was still trying to find a way to restore my arm…” He held up the afflicted right hand, wrapped once more and concealed under his sleeve and glove. “I thought that the monsters of the east would be more likely to have a solution, a way of drawing the Dark God’s mana out of me, but no one I spoke with was able to do anything to heal the transformation – even the most talented spellcasters they had.” He paused, laughing bitterly. “It was crazy, knowing that before the final battle, they would have been my sworn enemies and would have stopped at nothing to kill me.  By the time I spoke with them, though, half of them were trying to seduce me.” Shaking his head, he smiled up at Simon. “I suppose that is what happens when a succubus gets to decide what every monster is going to end up changing into.  But I also discovered that, while she had taken control of the Dark God’s power and spell, some parts of his will remained.”

     Simon blinked, a sudden anxiety stirring in his stomach. “What do you mean?”

     John scowled, and at Simon’s side Sarah’s head lowered slightly. “The Dark God made monsters to hunt humanity into extinction.  While Lilith was able to change a lot about their nature when she commandeered his incantation, some fundamental aspect of the Dark God’s desires resisted her.  Even though, back then, monsters were scooping up men right and left, not many of them were getting pregnant, despite… enthusiastic attempts.” Simon blushed at this, and thought he could hear a soft snicker from beside him. “It seems it is much more difficult for monsters to conceive by mating with humans, and since all of them are female, they don’t have other options.  Now, this worked out somewhat, since monsters tend to have, ah, lustful demeanors and would likely have reproduced far more rapidly than humans, but there was another problem: their children were always monsters.” Simon blinked at this, surprised. “No males.  No humans.  Just female monsters.”

     “Then, all of the males…” Simon wondered, frowning, “Have to come from human communities?”

     “Right.  Which is part of what got monsters a bad name early on: they tended to grab men first, without exactly asking questions or quibbling over things like what the men wanted, because they had no easy way of finding mates.  That kind of kidnapping’s still a problem with a lot of wild monsters even now.” Shrugging, John settled back in the seat. “Essentially, men became a scarce resource, and every one that became a monster’s mate had to be replaced by a human woman’s child, since the man would instead have monster heirs.”

     Simon nodded, seeing the inevitable demographic issues that this would create. “And, since humans were still resentful after the war, I’m guessing no one wanted to discuss a solution to this?  They preferred to ward monsters off, instead,” Simon guessed, thinking of his experiences with the Holy Orders.

     John’s chuckle was dark and cold. “You have no idea.  What’s worse, though, is…” At this, he paused, and Simon noticed Sarah glancing over at her teacher with an insistent frown.  It still took John a long moment to press forward, despite that goading.  Finally, John sighed. “I agreed with them.”

     Simon froze, but quickly recovered as he remembered something Sarah had told him long ago, back when he had first met her in the laboratories under the Chapel of Divine Revelation.  It wasn’t a far leap from her words to his next guess: “When you realized the problem would only get worse, you decided to help protect human cities from monsters, so they would be a place where human men could be born.  That’s why you helped to create the barriers?” he surmised, and John looked at him with surprise.

     “Told you he’s smarter than he lets on,” Sarah gloated from Simon’s side, and a thin smile appeared on John’s lips.

     “You are an easy man to underestimate,” John admitted to Simon, “just like he was.” The question of the identity of the ‘he’ hung in the air, but that wasn’t a difficult guess for Simon either.

    “So,” Simon pursued, eager to find out more, “that’s what was behind the laboratory.  The study with leyfluid was a search for a power source… you wanted a way to create a smaller version of the Great Veil that would be strong enough to keep monsters away from human towns and cities.”

     “Correct,” John agreed, “but that ran into problems quickly.  I may have done a lot of research for the creation of the Barrier Cities, but I wasn’t the one who made them possible.” His expression wry, he threw up a hand in frustration. “The way they work now, a permanent barrier all the way around an entire city that can kill any monster that touches it… it’s impossible.  It simply consumes too much power to persist.”

     Simon stared at him, surprised.  Having spent years in the capital city of the Empire, he hadn’t given it much thought, but after his own experiences with his battle with Lector Themras, he supposed he could see what would lead John to that idea.  The sheer amount of power those barriers must consume was staggering, even compared to something like the Great Veil, which had taken the sacrifice of Paul and much of the energies of Athena to create.  Every member of the Orders had been taught that they were powered by the faith of the populace, but that idea seemed very imprecise and insufficient to Simon.  Who had cast the spell?  Who maintained it?

     “Which leads me to the next part of my story,” John continued, and here a deeper shadow fell across his face. “The sheer amount of resources that my experiments called for were beyond anything I had access to, even as one of the Heroes.  At that time, around two decades after the final battle, there were only two organizations that had the kind of reach I needed: The Holy Order of the Chief Goddess, and her church.  The various nations were still separate, but the church’s power was growing exponentially from within them.  Still, considering the High Priestess of that faith hated me more than anyone, and the Goddess herself probably felt the same, I knew I had no chance there.  But there were some among the Order that still saw me as a hero, so…” John sank back into his seat. “I had a contact among them who worked with me.  He was a knight at that point, and had seen the dangers of the expansion of monster territory.  Back then, and even now, there are monsters who want their kind to control more and more land, and especially the men who live on it.  Eventually, whole cities fell to some of these incursions, including one important to the faith: Lescatie, home of heroes.” John’s fingers drummed on the armrest of his chair. “It was becoming a huge concern, and there were signs that the Order was gearing up for war.  I thought my solution could avoid that, but…” 

     John paused, and swallowed against a tight throat. “I helped him with spellwork that could form the basis of much smaller barriers, and tried to find a way to power them.  Unfortunately, nothing I discovered could work, and after a lot of reflection…” Here he glanced at Sarah, who met his gaze with a slight smile, “I started to reconsider the whole project.  Diplomacy seemed a more likely option at that point, since I had come to know several monsters that weren’t what I had imagined them all to be.  And so, that’s when I left the laboratory, to meet him at the outpost where we had been working together, to tell him that I was done with the barriers – that I was going back east, to talk with Adam and to convince him to help make peace between the two races until we could solve the population issue.”

     Simon glanced down as he noticed Sarah straightening.  Her eyes were narrowed and she leaned forward slightly, listening just as intently as he was.  After all, this would have been the last she had seen of John for decades, the point when her teacher had left the laboratory, never to return, until weeks ago when she had managed to summon him to help Simon and the others to escape Videre. John cleared his throat before continuing, “When I got to Olympus Outpost, things were in an uproar.  Guards were marching around, arresting anyone who looked suspicious – I even heard fighting, and some of the ones with drawn blades were dressed in the colors of the Chief Goddess’s Sacred Protectors.  I kept to the shadows, trying to find out what was going on, but never managed to.  Instead, my contact found me.” Simon leaned back at the naked disgust on John’s face, a cold hatred he hadn’t seen there before. “He had some of his soldiers jump me, and they knocked me unconscious.  I woke up on a table, strapped down, my arms bared.  He wanted to do a little ‘experiment,’ he said.  He’d found a new means of powering the barriers, and I would be the first that got to experience it.”

     As he said this, John reached out to pull the glove off of his left hand.  Just as it had been with his right, the one that had been partially made monstrous by the Dark God’s spell, this hand was also tightly bound in wrappings, which the former Hero began to unravel. “There’s something you should know before I go further,” John said, his eyes finding Simon’s. “We’ve discussed different types of mana before – human essence, monster mana, zeal – but there is a detail my research uncovered that is worrying.  From what I’ve found, mana of distinct varieties react differently when mixed.  Monster mana and human, for example, tend to meld quite easily, though sometimes monster mana can be dominant and even subsume the other, as is the case with human women exposed to too much.” For a brief moment, Simon’s mind darted to Mary, but he remembered the cleansing potions that he had asked Roger to make for her, and forced himself to be at ease. “The divine mana of the Chief Goddess, however, tended to clash with monster mana.  With the help of some volunteers from the Order, I tried using it in my research on the barriers, and it weakened monsters exposed to it, though not permanently.  Zeal, on the other hand…”

     Simon’s attention was distracted as the wrappings fell away from John’s hand, and the skin was exposed to the light.  However, even if the room had been dark, he still would have been able to see it, as the hand – normal in every other way, perfect to the point of seeming unnatural – glowed from within with a pale golden gleam.  Just the sight of it curdled Simon’s stomach, as the last time he had seen someone’s skin appear like that had been the final battle with Lector Themras.  There was a point just above the wrist where the glow was the strongest, but it emerged from every bit of the skin Simon could see, up into John’s sleeve.  He glanced up at the former Hero, and noticed the way that John regarded his own hand with quiet loathing.

     “One of the reasons I am so interested in it is entirely personal, as you can see,” John commented wryly. “But, as far as I know, zeal didn’t even exist until that day that I went to Olympus Outpost.  The ‘experiment’ that bastard did to me was to put something…” He paused here, his brow furrowed as he stared at the most radiant part of the hand, “Something that looked like crystallized leyfluid, except glowing just like this, into my arm.  He told me that he had found his answer, found something that would power the barriers, and that he didn’t need me anymore.  He…” John’s laugh was harsh and tinged with manic fury, “He thanked me, for proving his concept.  Said that I had helped him find what he needed to answer the monster problem in the way that we Heroes should have in the first place.  And he apologized that I wouldn’t be around to see it reach its fullest potential.”

     Simon nodded, his mind racing. “You implied zeal reacts strongly against monster mana… is that why the barriers are fatal to monsters?”

     John nodded, his lips twisted into a scowl. “When contrasting mana sources conflict, the results are highly destructive.  In the case of a much more powerful mana source conflicting with a lesser, the lesser one is usually destroyed.  Even without direct contact they tend to repel each other – I’ve thought for a while that this theory explains why monsters rarely take members of the Orders as mates.  The monsters I’ve spoken to say that they ‘smell bad;’ since monsters rely on smelling mana to tell if a man has been claimed by another monster, it seems that zeal has a pretty similar effect.“  Simon nodded at this, remembering how both Sophia and Sarah had been able to tell he had been with Gina.  John, however, had returned to gazing at his luminescent arm. “When the powers are at similar levels, however, the reaction is drastically stronger.  Long after I had been changed, I had a chance to do a bit of experimenting of my own.  In the Demon Queen’s castle, we – myself and a handful of Lilith’s top mages – took a drop of blood from each of my hands.  Once we were safely away behind a wall, and had put up a slew of defensive spells, we let those drops mix.” He paused, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. “The explosion took out the castle wall nearby, and nearly killed us all.  It took them weeks to repair the damage.”

     Surprising Simon, Sarah was the next to question her teacher. “But surely your blood mixes in your body all the time?”

     John nodded grimly, leaning back in his seat. “It does, but through a filter.  To explain that, I should pick up where I left off… you see, my fanatical friend intended for just that kind of explosive reaction to happen to me.  He suggested it would take a while for the energy from that stone to infuse my own mana, and had his flunkies carry me away from the outpost before that could happen so he wouldn’t be in danger.  I don’t remember much from there… the pain was overwhelming, and I could feel a reaction within my mana that felt like it was tearing me apart.” 

     Here, he glanced between the two of them. “And this is the part of the story that I can’t explain.  I remember…” John frowned, looking away, his eyes darting about the room as he picked at corroded memories, “walking through a forest, and… and a silver light.  But nothing else.” At this point, he glanced at Sarah with an apologetic shrug. “The reason I never communicated with you after I left was because I couldn’t.  You see, for decades, until just a few years ago, I was in the Demon Queen’s castle, sealed into a crystalline stasis.  That evening, half a continent away, they found me just outside the gates, sealed in a massive chunk of leycrystal like a bug in amber, complete with a powerful Timestop spell placed upon it.  I was essentially asleep, stuck at the point that freeing me would mean allowing the reaction to consume me and level everything within miles.  It wasn’t that Adam and Lilith didn’t try to get me out – she had her best mages working on a solution the entire time, but none of them could manage.  The stasis spell made it difficult anyways.” A slight blush spread on John’s face. “They made the crystal a memorial within the Royal Gardens, in the hopes that some visitor might have an idea of how to cure me.  It was Adam’s idea.” The crimson glow deepened. “Of course, it didn’t help that I was naked in that rock.  Quite visibly so.  And apparently the memorial was, ah, well-visited.”

     Simon blanched at the idea, but Sarah snickered at his side. “Bet a lot of monsters got their first lessons on male anatomy from you, then.”

     John offered her a mortified frown. “Don’t remind me… I’ll carry that bit of shame to the grave.”

     “Then how did they get you out?” Simon asked, his mind whirring with different potential solutions to a problem like John had described.

     “It just took the right mage to come up with a solution,” John said, though the heat did not leave his cheeks. “It seems that one of Lilith’s daughters became fascinated with the riddle of my ailment-”

     “Something tells me that wasn’t all she was fascinated with,” Sarah sniped, and John’s blush spread even higher.

     “And she came up with a practical solution.  You see, I have always had an excessive amount of mana – it helped me become a powerful warlock even before I was chosen to be one of the Heroes.  And so she devised a spell where my mana would essentially consume itself to form a filter, constantly pushing back against the two different sources of external mana within my body.  It kept both from spreading further, and purposely kept my mana low so that neither side could gradually build in potency.  Unfortunately, though, that meant that my mana would have to be very carefully maintained at that level, which meant that I wouldn’t have use of it.  The magic is like a precisely-balanced scale, and would be fairly easy to tip in either direction.” His shoulders slumped, and he nodded across the room, where the staff he had given Simon rested against the wall. “That’s why I can’t even cast a simple spell anymore, why I’ve trained as a swordsman instead – any great deviation in my mana, either depletion or addition, could pose a risk to the filtration systems in my body.”

     “Any deviation?” Sarah asked, her eyebrow raising, and John looked away with a blush. “Ah.”

     “So, when Sophia called you ‘Twice-Cursed’ back in Videre-” Simon started.

     “‘Thrice-Cursed,’ actually,” Sarah corrected, shaking her head. “How catty.”

     Simon glanced down at her, confused, and the lich gave him a significant look. “Think about when you use your mana,” she told him.

     “When I cast spells, and… when we… oh.” Simon glanced at John, his face plummeting.  The former Hero nodded glumly.

     “Explains how you spend so much time with an over-affectionate lilim without ending up in bed with her,” Sarah pointed out, to John’s obvious discomfort. “Ironic, then – I presume Mephis is the one who figured out that solution?”

     When John nodded, Simon frowned as he mulled that idea over. “Wait.  Does that mean that Lady Mephis is… Adam’s daughter?” He stared at the hero, remembering all the times he had heard her refer to John as ‘darling’ or other such terms of endearment.

     “Yes; Lady Mephistopheles is the seventeenth daughter of Adam and Lilith, and the last of the lilim,” John noted, his chagrined tone made more obvious by the formality of his words. “And also yes, my best friend’s daughter, who has had a crush on me since before I managed to get out of that crystal.” 

     “Last?” Sarah asked. “She has to be at least twenty years old…”

     “That’s a little low, but I’m wise enough not to share the actual number,” John chuckled. “But that brings me to the other recent problem.” He spread his hands, looking between the two of them. “While infertility has always been an issue with monsterkind, it’s recently been getting worse.  Fewer and fewer children are being born each year, and the problem seems to be worse for those who have great amounts of mana.  Adam and Lilith, for example, haven’t stopped trying to have more daughters – trust me, they should have succeeded by now, at least statistically speaking, from what I saw during my recovery at their palace after I was freed.  Several other high-ranking members of the court have had the same problem, and it’s actually led to a bit of discontent with the Demon Queen’s rule.”

     Simon leaned his chin on one hand as he considered the issue. “You said before that their  infertility was a matter of the Dark God’s lingering will.  Is there a chance that he is… coming back?  Still alive, somehow?”

     John shook his head. “I hope not, but at the same time, I also doubt it.  We recovered his body, and sealed it somewhere safe.  Agents of the Demon Queen have kept eyes on the few remaining strongholds he had left after the war, mostly those further east, and they are still quiet.  Earlier today, I mentioned to you our efforts to reach out to monsters who can contact the goddess of the Underworld – that is one more reason we want to gain that access.  She could tell us for certain if he still rests among the dead or not.”

     Simon nodded, but still stared intently at John. “If you don’t think that the Dark God is responsible, then you must have another theory in mind.”

     “I do.” John’s eyes fell on his bared left hand. “I hadn’t ever heard of ‘zeal’ before the day this happened to me, and from searching all the archives I could reach, no energy matching that description had been used in the past.  Now, though, it seems to be everywhere – with the twisted Church of the Empire and the Orders both using it, it has spread across the continent.  And, as I mentioned, it conflicts drastically with monster mana.  I can’t be sure, but I think that it might be affecting ambient magic as well, released by so many who generate it.  Zeal’s true nature is something I want to study, and checking its spread is one of the reasons I have been leaning on Sarah to examine the leylines so much, but for now it’s the best hunch I have to work with.”

     Sarah snorted at Simon’s side. “Forgive me if I bow out of helping you to gather test subjects and stick with the leylines instead.”

     John offered her an easy smile in response. “Well, the last one you captured, you helped convert over to our side, so I’ll give you a pass.” Sarah turned her affectionate smile up to Simon, who grinned and draped his arm over her shoulder. “And I doubt we’ll have many volunteers, either.” John leaned back in his seat, more casually this time, and his eyes searched the other man’s reaction cautiously. “That brings you up to where we are now, and why I am so opposed to the Orders.  Not just the crimes they commit against monsters and those who protect them, but also the threat they might pose to the balance of mana in general.”

     “I see,” mused Simon, his eyes unfocused as he struggled to digest all he had been told.  Now, at least, he knew why John was no longer the warlock he once was, and why he had such a passionate hatred for the Orders.  Still, the discussion had raised as many questions as it had answer, especially in regards to the Barrier Cities, and the Holy Orders themselves. “Who was your contact in the Order, the one who did that to you?” Simon asked, and immediately the dark cloud spread once more over John’s face.  Simon could even feel Sarah tense beside him.

     “You would know him as the Squire, from what I’ve been told,” John replied, civil yet with heat glowing in his words, “He’s the one who founded the Holy Orders out of the remnants of the previous incarnation, once the Chief Goddess abandoned them – though I know very little about those details, considering I was otherwise engaged.” His smile didn’t bleed the bitterness from his tone. “Frederich Dagian was a knight of the Order who-”

     “Freddie?” Simon asked, incredulous. “The orphan that Adam took in?”

     “Yeah… do you remember him?” John asked, his eyes narrowing. 

     “Well, no, just the mentions of him from Paul’s journal – wait, what do you mean, ‘remember’ him?” Simon asked, latching onto the word.  His blood chilled in his veins, and a sense of foreboding settled over him like a shroud.  He watched John straighten slightly, his mouth remaining closed, but at Simon’s side the lich stirred, glaring at the other man.

     “He deserves to know, John.  I know you think you are protecting him, but he will be alright.” Sarah’s voice was strong and confident, and Simon looked down to her, confused and slightly upset at being left out of the loop.

    John was long in continuing, looking back and forth between the other two in the room.  Finally he sighed, and looked directly to Simon. “That mark on your hand, Athena’s symbol… do you remember when you first got it?  When you were young, perhaps, or maybe…?”

     “No – no, it just appeared during the fight with the lector,” Simon replied, shaking his head. “It’s the mark of one chosen by the gods, I know.  I thought it came from Athena choosing to protect me when I was about to die.”

     “Not quite,” John said, dragging the words out. “Look… throughout history, there have been many, many heroes, but very few chosen specifically by the gods.  I told you that before, earlier today.  What I didn’t tell you was the reason.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “It’s not just being chosen – it’s an irrevocable binding ritual.  The mark is on your soul, and it connects you to the god, and them to you.  The reason that there had only ever been one main Hero before, the one chosen by the Chief Goddess, was that it was the same hero, reincarnating over and over again, rising every time the Dark God sent out a new Overlord.  He was her Chosen, and each era he would be born, fight the Overlord, and then die challenging the Dark God himself.  Having her mark meant that he could draw on her power, and so he was the only Hero that was needed – and the ritual to make a new Godchosen Hero wasn’t one that any god was willing to do lightly.  As far as I know, before us, there had only been two, maybe three more, aside from the Chief Goddess’s Chosen.  At his request, she had also marked the Hero’s lover in a previous age, so that they would always reincarnate together, and apparently the Smith-God blessed a famous craftsman centuries ago, but that had been it until six of us were Chosen to accompany Adam.  Still, the choosing of a new Hero was a momentous occasion, and something that some people could feel the ripples of even in different nations.”

     Simon leaned back once more, his mind taking its time to reach the conclusion that he had already seen coming.  It was something he had known for a long time, since back in Videre, but this only confirmed his suspicions – and those of Athena and Sophia, as well. “So, that means, with the mark of Athena… I’m supposed to be the reincarnation of Paul?” He frowned, mulling this over. “But I don’t remember things from back then…”

     “You wouldn’t,” John suggested, his tone oddly gentle. “That’s not how it works.  When humans die, we go to Hel’s Halls in the Underworld, to face the consequences of our lives, good or bad.  Once we have spent enough time there, we are washed in the River Lethe, cleansed of our memories, and are then reborn.  Adam had more memories than most, and he only had inklings of his previous lives – flashes here and there, feelings more than thoughts.” John’s barked laugh drew Simon’s gaze. “It’s why he never really got along with the woman he was supposedly bonded to – she had been found early by the Church, and raised by them to be a politician, and he… was a blacksmith’s son, from the middle of nowhere.  The more she acted like he belonged to her, the more he found reason to move on with our quest.” John’s smirk was petty and triumphant.

     “But that just means you are still Simon, no matter who you were before,” Sarah commented from near Simon’s face, and he turned to see her staring up at him.  It was rare, to hear that softness in the lich’s oft-teasing voice, or to see that concern in her violet eyes.

     “I know,” he reassured her, and his hand caressed her back with just as much gentleness. “I… knew.” She blinked at this, and he nodded again, reading her eyes for a long moment before returning back to John, who was watching him just as closely. “I’m still just Simon, but… I’m glad that I understand now why I felt such a kinship with his stories, why his journal called out to me.” Simon drew in a deep breath, and despite his words, he felt – refreshed.  Contented, like he had solved an old mystery.  And… excited.  He looked up at John, and offered the other man a grin, and was pleased to see its mirror slowly begin to spread across the Hero’s face.

     “So, with that said, I guess we should-” A sudden sharp rapping from the home’s front door drew John up short, and he paused, his brow instantly furrowing. “I know that knock,” he commented, rising along with Simon and looking with surprise towards the door. “That’s Ceann.”

     Sure enough, a moment later Simon opened the door to reveal the dullahan knight standing in the fading light of early evening, her stance as militarily precise as ever, but her face disarrayed with concern.  She started when she saw Simon on the door’s other side, but relaxed to discover John just past his shoulder.  When Simon welcomed her and motioned her inside, she thanked him, but her gaze immediately settled on the man she typically guarded. “John, there’s something that… requires your attention.” Simon noted the way that her eyes flicked in his own direction before she continued. “Lady Mephis, at the tavern…”

     John stared at her for a long moment before waving her closer. “Just a moment,” he told Simon, wincing apologetically for the poor manners as the dullahan drew closer, Ceann leaning in to whisper into his ear.  Though Simon couldn’t make out what she told the other man, the effects of her words were instantly obvious. “She did what?” John demanded, whirling to face the knight, his eyes aglow with fury. “She knows-!  Oh, this is not what we…!” He paused, fighting to control his breath, to press down the tension that had seized him by the shoulders like a raptor’s talons, before giving Ceann another significant stare.  That look was enough to communicate his feelings, and the knight’s own face wore a mask of concern and frustration.

     It was Sarah emerging into the hallway that drew John’s attention away from Ceann. “What’s wrong?” the lich asked, eyes narrowed.  He glanced back at her, and then to Simon, and the turmoil in Simon’s stomach became a tempest.

     “The tavern, you said?” Simon asked, polite but offering no chance of evasion. “Is something wrong there?  Is everyone-?” The guilt on John’s face cemented his fear, and Simon nodded. “Sarah, come on, we’re going.”

     “Wait,” John said, raising a hand to steady the other man. “It’s not a danger to her, but… I fear that Mephis has done something rash, and your friend Mary might be involved.” He glanced over to Ceann, who nodded grimly. “We’ll come with you, and see what we can do to help.”

     Simon nodded. “Then I’ll have to ask you to keep up,” he said resolutely, and without waiting for a reply he turned and began walking towards the tavern at the fastest pace he felt he could maintain without winding himself.  He could hear the others hurrying to keep up, but he kept his eyes locked ahead.  His mind whirling with possibilities, he barely noticed the people moving out of his way after they took one glance at his face.

     Mary Kramer was here because of him, and if something bad had happened to her – if Gina was right, and Mary’s grief was his fault – then he would answer for it whatever it took.  He wouldn’t let anything bad befall the people he cared about, not as long as he had any strength to confront it.  He just hoped he would be able to help, whatever had gone wrong.

     But as the sun began to set over the western mountains, as Simon rushed towards the Second Home, he had no way of knowing what waited for him in the shadows of its basement.   

Continued in “Heroes, Chapter 12”

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Author’s Note: Alas, my hopes of returning sooner than usual were dashed by the past couple of weeks, which have kept me over-busy.  Even worse, I am just slightly behind my typical two-week posting schedule, though I will forgive myself when it comes to this chapter in particular.  For this one, I had to do a ton of cross-referencing; John’s timeline is always a pain for me, but at least having most of it down now allows me to use this chapter as a backstop for future references.

Next chapter, though, will have less of that – it’s time for Mary’s fate to be revealed at last, and to see Simon’s reaction to it.  After such a talk-heavy chapter in this one, it will be nice to write a chapter with a bit more action… of a kind…

I will hasten with next chapter, but the dreaded time has come for in-service to begin.  Paradoxically, I tend to write more when I am working than on break, and my new schedule this year looks promising for writing (less so my sanity, sadly).  Hopefully, I will be back soon with the final chapter of Simon’s individual arc, and then on to George…

One thing I will note once more is the timing of Simon’s chapters here.  Were this story being posted as a complete chunk, I will feel a bit better about the minor references I made to the timeline in this chapter, but with staggered releases, it’s easier to forget where things go chronologically.  Just remember that Simon is still a day behind the other characters at this point – the events at the end of this chapter are around the same time George and Callie are approaching her family’s nest, and Roger and Lacy are preparing to go hunting for Priss, who is pursuing Berala.  This will matter for George’s second round, hence why I am clarifying it here.

But, with that said, my usual closing: thank you all, for commenting or even just reading along.  I know this is a slow-burn series, and I have a long way to go, but… I’m excited for what’s to come, even in chapters not far from here.  If only I can write half as well as I can dream, then I will truly have something to share with you – but I am grateful you’ve come with me even this far.

But, with the last hours of summer dwindling, it’s time to squeeze in just a little… sleep…

~Wynn Pendragon          

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