by Peri Akman
Well… if she was being honest…
He should be honest too.
“I uh… lied.”
“No duh. Not unless I killed all those demons in some unconscious daze,” Kole replied, as if the conversation from before hadn’t happened.
Her eyes suddenly widened. “Wait. DID I kill all those demons in an unconscious daze?!”
Quinn shook his head vigorously. “No! No, of course not… it was me.”
Kole stared at him, not saying anything, evidently waiting for the punchline.
“I summoned a living person who killed them all,” Quinn said, a bit quicker than he had pictured in his head.
“What.”
Quinn raised an arm, and sure enough, a few moments, standing behind him was Ser Hero, as obnoxious as they were previously. This time their skin was darker, and they were closer to Quinn’s height, but otherwise, unmistakably the same person, the same white pale eyes as before.
“HOLY—” Kole screamed, falling backwards as she instinctively grabbed her walking stick for support, only to have it poof on her.
“Hello there, Teacher of the Master of the Ser Hero!” Ser Hero happily proclaimed, bowing incredibly low.
“We… are going… to deal with this… later,” Kole said in a slow and elongated voice.
Quinn frowned. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, no, it’s just… I think I’m done for the day. I’ve learned too much. Had too many emotions. Been beaten down too much. Whatever reality spinning problem this… thing is, I don’t want to think about it right now. I am done. I am tired. And I just want to go into one of those cabins and talk about something mundane. Like whether the Kasan Owltrek books did more harm or good for the warlock image. That’s mundane,” Kole explained, not once taking her eyes off of the grinning and stunning Ser Hero.
“Go kill the demons, Ser Hero,” Quinn ordered, before stopping. “Wait, scratch that. Find Kole’s walking stick, it should be around the area we tracked down the monsters in.”
Ser Hero gave a heroic laugh. “No task is too small for the Hero of Haldon!”
They bounded off, practically with a skip in their step, pulling an axe out of nowhere for absolutely no reason other than it looking cool.
The two walked back to the houses, as if Kole had never seen the strange individual. There was idle chatter, but it was mostly forced. The two were far too exhausted to actually talk about something meaningful.
By the time they made it back to the collection of houses, Ser Hero was chasing after them, waving Kole’s walking stick with an inflated sense of pride.
“Oh Sickly Bandaged One!” Ser Hero cried, gracefully running in front of them. “Here is your sacred stick! I even healed it!”
Kole took it gingerly, clearly not ready to have this interaction for the next month.
“You… healed my walking stick,” Kole repeated dully.
“I thought you could only heal damsels in distress,” Quinn muttered.
“I can! And I needed to save the walking stick from rot and other animals! It was a damsel! In distress!” Ser Hero puffed their chest out like they were a frog.
Kole ran her fingers over the walking stick. “Well… there is a lack of nicks in it now…”
Quinn rubbed his forehead. It had worked. Ser Hero had healed an old piece of enchanted wood and it had worked. How did that logic follow? How could it possibly function? Worst of all, how did it come from him? Why was this his power source?
To stop a headache, or more insufferable epithets and titles, he banished Ser Hero. Kole immediately dropped some food out of storage, and the two ate in happy silence as they sat by the well.
“You know, in all of this hubbub, I forgot we were in the middle of an entirely different argument,” Quinn said.
“About the mind erasing thing?” Kole responded.
“Yeah.” Quinn nodded vaguely.
Kole shrugged. “Eh. That’s life. How many conversations have we had that have gotten derailed?”
“A lot, probably.”
“Exactly! So don’t sweat it. If it’s important, we’ll get back to it eventually. But right now the important thing to do is to figure out which house is the least vermin-infested.” Kole gestured to the houses.
“Do we each get our own house? Or like, do we each get our own legion of houses? I’ve never had an entire building to myself before,” Quinn asked, a bit amazed by the situation unfolding.
“I mean, these aren’t exactly luxury homes. They were probably built to house excess people when there were festivals going on,” Kole explained.
“They have festivals here?” Quinn asked, perking up in interest.
“Well, not anymore thanks to the infestation, and honestly they aren’t the big events they used to be, but yeah. When I was a kid most warlocks would make yearly pilgrimages to their local Temple. Big ones like this would have festivals that lasted weeks. The houses were disgusting,” Kole mused distantly.
“What happened to them?” Quin was curious if this had some great rant behind it.
Instead of a rant, Kole just shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t know. Badlands got worse, a generation died out, and laws started more strictly regulating money going to religious events. A cluster of issues that made them die down. They’re still around, just not as grand.”
Quinn chewed idly. “Huh. That’s… kind of sad.”
Kole gave a noncommittal gesture. “It’s a change. Sooner or later someone is going to look at the past, get a gust of nostalgia, and try and revive it.”
“Funny, I thought you’d be angry, considering your mention of government regulation,” Quinn observed.
“I am. Sort of. You are already clearly sad. I don’t need to summon the energy to explain anything. I already told you, I’m not doing anything else for the rest of the day. Too tired,” Kole muttered, swallowing the rest of her food in one bite.
Quinn nodded, and after the food, the two picked a house and traversed into it. Quinn had thought Kole was exaggerating, but the musty, dank house was far worse than Quinn had realized. There was a wooden craft in the corner for a bed, but the mattress was torn and decrepit. He couldn’t imagine a good rest happening on that sorry excuse for comfort. Of interest was the inside of the door: the intricately carved symbols from the temple were present here, only faded. Up close, he even recognized the Sigil of Magic as one of them.
He lightly touched it, and took a deep breath, almost expecting something to happen.
His nose immediately rebelled, and he sniffed desperately for air.
“Oh, right.” Kole snorted. “You’re allergic.”
“Yeah, a little,” Quinn shot back, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, I forgot, especially since most of the hair we encounter is monster in origin. You don’t seem to get all clogged up then,” Kole said as she slammed her walking stick on the ground, creating a loud noise against the hollow wooden floor. Squeaking noises filled the air as peaceful animals fled the house.
Quinn jumped slightly, but nothing touched his feet or even came near him.
He looked down, awkwardly, but saw nothing to indicate any rats skittering by him. He swallowed dryly and grimaced.
“They’re more scared of—actually no, with that face, you’re definitely more scared of the rats.” Kole’s eyes sparkled with glee.
Quinn rolled his eyes at her and straightened his body out before wincing in pain.
“You all right?” Kole asked.
“Yeah. Ever since Cosime healed me my ribs have just been hurting,” Quinn said, rubbing his stomach area.
“Let me see?” Kole extended her hands.
Quinn let Kole prod him, staring ahead, sort of afraid that at some point there would be a random flesh wound that they had missed.
“Oh that small stupid child,” Kole muttered under her breath.
Quinn felt the color drain from him. “What? What happened?”
“Well, more accurately, average child wi
th stupid master,” Kole continued, “Your ribs healed wrong. They must have gotten bent or jumbled, so they healed them in the wrong order.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. “I… how do you make that mistake?!”
“By being twelve,” Kole said, slightly exasperated.
“I… what happens now?” Quinn sputtered. Was he going to die? Could rib misplacement kill you?
“Well, luckily for you, you have a mimicker on your side, with a bit more medical knowhow,” Kole replied, ruffling his hair.
“Great…” Quinn said sarcastically.
“Unfortunately I am going to have to er… physically break them again. Which would be easy if Cosime were a few years more experienced, but they’re not,” Kole explained, softly prodding Quinn’s ribcage.
Quinn winced. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. If you want we could walk back to the Temple, I could collect a few skills that would make you pass out easily,” Kole suggested.
“But… we just got back for Prism’s sake!” Quinn whined.
“Well, it won’t feel better if you keep it like this,” Kole said bluntly.
“Just… just do it. It can’t hurt that much, can it?” Quinn asked, already regretting this decision. He had had a few injuries here and there, and it hadn’t hurt that much when they had been broken… so long as he wasn’t breathing.
Kole laughed. “It’s cute that you think that. Let’s go back outside, and you go find a comfortable place to lie down.”
Quinn nodded faintly and went outside. Still no demons or monsters or anything. Just the sound of birds. Unless monsters could make those sounds. He hoped not.
He lay down on some soft dirt and grass, wincing the entire time. He had gripped his stomach before, but now he was kind of terrified. What if he felt a bone poking where it wasn’t supposed to? The bottom ribs were longer than the upper ribs, right?
What if he had run or something and his rib had just torn through, and stuck out of his skin? Now that was a terrifying thought.
Kole came over shortly, holding some cloth and assorted clutter.
She knelt by him. “You still good, Quinn?”
Quinn nodded. She would just heal him straight afterwards anyway. It would be fine. Plus, he trusted her. If she thought she could do it, then she could do it. This way was faster and easier.
“Okay, put this in your mouth.” She held out what appeared to be a smooth square.
Quinn frowned and looked at her in confusion.
“Put this in your mouth or bite off your tongue. I’m personally fine with that outcome, but you might not be.” Kole explained brightly.
“Yeesh.” He gently took the thin wooden block, and placed it in his mouth. It tasted weird, and kind of hurt. It was clearly meant for someone with a wider mouth.
“Dish shing ish gunna hurt, herh?” Quinn asked, muffled by block.
“Yep!” Kole said, and suddenly there was an audible cracking noise.
Quinn screamed.
Holy gods above.
Holy GODS above!
That REALLY hurt!
Quinn mouthed foul words with his peeled-back lips, and groaned and dug his teeth into the wood.
His breathing quickened.
Crack.
Another rib, another scream. Why had he agreed to this whyHADHEAGREEDTOTHIS—
Crack.
Gods DAMMIT that hurt!
And then Kole pressed down, hard.
Quinn stared at her, wild eyed, trying to scream out all of his frustration and oh gods the pain the pain THE PAIN.
“I have to move them around, don’t worry, if I generate little energy pushes that should—ah! There we go, proper order!”
And just like that, the pain spiked severely, there was a snap, and it subsided.
It throbbed slightly, but the bones were no longer broken.
Quinn immediately sat up, and spat out the block.
“Holy gods why did you let me agree to that! That was terrible! That was the worst thing I’ve ever done! I would rather fight monsters with my arms cut off than do that again!” Quinn shrieked, panting.
Kole gave a small laugh. “Not as fun without the adrenaline, huh?”
“It’s never fun! I just… wow that REALLY hurt!” Quinn sputtered.
Kole ruffled his hair. “Does it hurt now, though?”
Quinn took a few experimental breaths. “No.” He broke out into a silly grin.
“Eh, don’t get so giddy. That’s just the euphoria talking,” Kole dismissed, and gestured to the house.
Quinn thought for a moment before he stood up. “You know, I think we should share a house. If we lived in two separate ones, that’d be twice the work, and then we’d be in bigger danger if demons or monsters attacked.”
Kole paused for the briefest of moments, like she was going to say something. Instead, she shrugged.
“…Kole?” Quinn said slowly, sudden insecurity plaguing him.
Kole did not turn around. “What?”
“Am I a good fighter?” Quinn blurted out.
“I already said I didn’t want to talk about that,” Kole replied flatly.
“No! Not—! Not that. I mean. Like, if I had been apprenticed by Asim, or Serethen, or that military guy or that bodyguard grayshade… would I have been, you know, competent?” Quinn asked, not even sure what he was looking for. Validation? Assurance? He had the ability to summon a monster killer, and that had to be a good thing, right?
Kole sighed. “You would have been great, Quinn. They would have loved to have you. But there’s no use in thinking about the what ifs like that. Let’s get some rest.”
Quinn nodded rapidly. He felt silly, but fundamentally better.
The two walked to their new housing with Quinn just a little more at peace with his place in the world.
Chapter Nineteen
As it turned out, the vermin were the least of their worries. The weather on the mountains was horrible, unpredictable, and above all else, wet. While Quinn had been worried about monsters and demons, he had forgotten nature’s other greatest weapon against humanity—bears.
Bears, mountain lions, ticks, foxes and all other sorts of animals had apparently grown quite accustomed to the housing area being theirs, and since monsters and demons had no interest in the creatures, they were quite bold in their undertakings.
It did lead to some antics here and there—Kole, brave enough to take on several of the toughest monsters in the mountains, ran screaming bloody murder when she saw a bear a few feet away from her. Quinn wasn’t even aware she was capable of running, but apparently fear had decided to take precedence over her wounded leg, and she spent the rest of the day in a barricaded house, looking over her shoulder in case the bear decided to open doors, massaging her now very sore leg.
Quinn spent his time summoning Ser Hero to clear the area. They seemed abysmal at tracking and kept requesting their steed back, but Quinn remained firm—if there was something wrong with these powers, avoiding summoning the giant white monster seemed like a sensible idea.
The repetitive nature of summoning Ser Hero made it practically mundane after a certain point—but not quite; there were, of course, always surprises. Ser Hero’s appearance varied heavily. Sometimes they looked incredibly similar to Quinn, other times it looked like they had stepped out of a storybook. Quinn had tried to vary other parts of Ser Hero, tweak them specifically, but was largely unsuccessful. The only consistency was their eyes. They varied in size and shape, even in color, but unlike the rest of them that ran the entire gamut of human traits, the irises alternated between shades of whites and pale colors.
It made some sense to a certain degree, or so Quinn had first guessed. He was making life, and unlike some of the simpler objects, he didn’t need to picture it as clearly to get it working, so it was probably that the creation of Ser Hero ran solely on his subconscious. Didn’t explain the eye thing, but Quinn’s eyes were gray too, so it was probably connected to that.
&nbs
p; There were some possible contradictions to this, however. Every day Quinn would walk back to the temple to retrieve supplies for himself and Kole, and every day he would spend a little time at the temple. There he spent some time in the library and learned some very new things—the first was that the word “Ser” was in fact a real word, and had been used as a gender-neutral counterpart to Sir and Madame. Quinn certainly had never learned this, so either he had learned something so distantly he forgot any context to it, or Ser Hero was capable of knowing things about the world Quinn didn’t.
This worried Quinn. If Ser Hero knew things, then could they really solely come from Quinn’s subconscious?
Quinn preferred to write it off as a long-forgotten fact. He had learned about terminology used before, it was possible it had slipped through the cracks.
Then he looked up something else Ser Hero had said offhand—legally changing their name.
Quinn had known for people to take on titles, but as Kole explained, there was a way to have it so that your signing name was different than your birth name. Such a concept baffled Quinn!
There was nothing stopping him from filling out several sheets, mailing them to the local governmental office, and having his name changed in four to six weeks! Why would anyone be allowed to have such power like that? What if he changed his name to something like… Asim? Or Mackie? What if he changed his name to Mackie, and then there were two Mackies of Haldon?
And of course that followed that you could change your permanent residence if it was so needed, so Quinn could just change his name to Asim of Trell. How was that allowed? How was it not abused?
There was no way that Quinn had subconsciously remembered that fact! There was no way; he would have remembered something so ridiculous.
When Quinn expressed his dumbfounded shock at this legal loophole, Kole just laughed at him, saying that despite Quinn’s paranoia, few actually managed to abuse such an idea successfully, or even attempted to. Apparently most people who used such paperwork did so because they had bad associations with their name, and usually it was not warlocks doing the name changing. Additionally, location changing, while feasible, was an immensely difficult and prolonged process, and few ever followed through with it.
