“Are you sure we can’t save it?” Nova demanded. “If it truly cared so much, it might be able to help us save other worlds!”
Including Earth, she meant, though knowing Nova, she would not stop caring at just one world.
“Nova, not only are you unable to help the poor creature, you should be unwilling to help the poor creature,” the ship-woman chided her Beacon harshly. “Because its suffering is not even the bloodbeast’s greatest path to power. The mad totem has set its entire tribe on a rampage, and they will murder untold thousands unless they are stopped. I need you to get the other tribes and villages in their path to safety. I’ll teleport you to the first place you need to go, and give you the coordinates I want you to lead them to. Then I’ll have to act myself,” Vessa sighed. “I have exactly one working weapon left on my ship-body. It’s actually designed to help me clear debris through space, but it will be strong enough to finish off a wounded Sourcebeast at that stage of Advancement. Then it will break permanently, and be added to the list of things my ship-body needs repaired.”
“Will your physical body suffer?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too anxious. “Will you feel any pain or require any new treatment?”
Vessa shot me an annoyed look, so I hurriedly spoke again.
“I ask as a disciple inquiring over the health of his master,” I added as I bowed my head.
“Ugh,” Vessa said as she covered her face. “That part of our deal wasn’t supposed to backfire on me. It shouldn’t cause me any problems, Jasper, but I promise to let my disciple know,” she finished, sounding as if the words grated on her. “Thank you for asking. But I will need that overly solicitous nature of yours to do something else. Something potentially far, far riskier than the task I have for Nova.” Vessa took a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m going to send you over to where my scans show the dying Sourcebeast is hiding. If the being isn’t hostile, you’re going to make it as comfortable as you can, in order to stop empowering the bloodbeast with its suffering before it dies.”
I stared at the gray woman as if she had just spat in my face.
“You want me,” I began, trying to breathe my newfound rage out of my nose, “to leave Nova behind, and then go visit a dying, suffering creature, who, if it does not kill me outright—either on purpose or accident—will likely give me the entire history of its grief, and then ask me to take its life myself, to end either its pain or despair,” I clarified, staring at the woman brazen enough to betray me in such a fashion. “You’re demanding that I go listen to something, possibly a creature just like Nestor, beg and cry for me to kill it, and probably not understand that I am not going to be strong enough to harm it at all, even in its wounded state. And you’re going to ask me to do that,” I added with a tortured edge to my voice, “after all I have done for you.”
“Yes, Jasper,” Vessa replied mournfully, meeting my eyes. “I am going to ask you to do that, and more, precisely because of what you have done for me.”
I shook as I stared at her, my teeth grinding together too hard for me to speak.
“I swear to you,” the ship-woman promised, “that if this was not absolutely necessary, I would never have dared to even consider asking you such a thing. And I cannot make you do it, nor offer you anything I am not already willing to give you in return for this. Please believe me.”
She had me, I knew. I would have to watch something that reminded me of her as it begged and bled and cried, only this time I wouldn’t be able to save them. And if I did not go down there, then that being, who had probably saved untold thousands, would die all alone.
“You said powerful Sourcebeasts can take human form,” I finally said out loud. “Do we know if this one has done so?”
“That is literally one of the only things I can tell about this creature. It is currently injured, and in human form, probably to help it hide. It is likely very old... and probably female,” she admitted reluctantly, as if me finding that last bit out later wouldn’t make me even angrier.
“I need a new pack,” I growled as I stomped past her capsule, dropping my old one, the one full of bloody meat, next to her and heading toward the closet terminals.
“There’s not really another spare,” Vessa said in a small voice. I realized my anger was hurting her, and started to feel ashamed. But shame rarely diminished any of the other negative emotions. “What are you doing?”
“Right now, she is human, bleeding, and alone,” I said as I started grabbing blankets and stuffing them under my arm. “Therefore, she will be very cold. Will she be able to eat our food?”
“In human form, yes,” Vessa answered me carefully. “It’s mostly fruits and vegetables, but it’s designed to benefit almost any race or creature. At the very least, it should quench its thirst.”
“She,” I corrected, stomping over to the cooler. “You have said she is likely female.”
“Likely, yes,” Vessa answered. “But there was too much power thrown about during the battle, and now the being is doing its best to cloak itself. I can’t even tell what type of Sourcebeast it—I mean she—is. Only that she’s wounded and alone in a certain location. And she’s going to be too wounded for you to save, Jas,” the ship-woman cautioned me. “Otherwise, if there was any chance at all, I would have sent Nova, since she has healing spells and techniques.”
“When am I going?” I asked brusquely, and the gray woman flinched. Regret rose up in my throat, but I couldn’t stop being harsh. I still didn’t appreciate the way she was going about this.
“I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I didn’t... you can go now. Just do what you can to make her comfortable. It won’t feel like much, but it will diminish how much power her enemy can gain by a large margin. And if the bloodbeast’s minions find her... just do what you can,” Vessa finished helplessly, as if that advice was at all useful. “Alright, Jas, I’m sending you to her now. Be careful, because she still may be strong enough to hurt you. If she seems hostile, come back immediately.”
I was about to snap and say that judging by past experience, it was more likely for her to ask me to harm her than the other way around. But I bit down on my anger at the last moment, and reminded myself that this wasn’t really Vessa’s fault any more than it was my own.
“Got it,” I said instead. Nestor squeaked as he raced up my leg to perch on my shoulder, quivering as he sensed all the tension in the room. “I’ll do what I can for her, Vessa.”
“I know,” the ship-woman replied quietly. “That’s why I have to send you, Jas. Come back safe. Please.”
I closed my eyes, and let my body adjust to the sensation of being somewhere else.
The first thing I noticed was that this world was much colder than its neighbor. I figured it to be a little warmer than Lunei’s world had been, until a biting wind swept through me. I immediately used my different Source energies to warm myself as I studied my surroundings.
I was standing on a rocky outcrop, with waves crashing far off in the distance. Ahead of me was a large cave, wider and taller than my orphanage had been. It was big enough for a creature five times the size of the cage drake to hole up in, and judging by the massive blood trail leading into it, that was exactly what happened.
I briefly wondered if I should enter with a weapon drawn, in case anything attacked me. Then I decided that if whatever being resting in there was still strong enough to fight at all, my little semi-permanent daggers weren’t going to be much use. So I shrugged and kept walking, the blankets and food pouches stuffed awkwardly under my arm.
I stopped when I reached the mouth of the cave, choosing to remain visible to anything deep enough inside of it. I felt for my connection to the Soulship, ready to return the instant something tried to lash out at me, and hoping I could activate it faster than any potential attacker could harm me. Then I looked about, to make sure that no one else was coming. But as far as Nestor and I could tell, we were alone, except for whatever being was bleeding out in the cavern beyond
us.
“Hello?” I said as loudly as I dared. “May I come in?”
Nothing answered me, but I listened as carefully as I could. Nestor leaned forward and sniffed.
Hurt-thing, he said, sniffing again. Weak-thing. Smells-sad. We-help?
Probably not, I answered bitterly, before I called out again.
“I am going to walk inside now,” I said loudly. “Please do not attack me. I mean you no harm.”
With that, I slowly stepped into the cave, kicking pebbles as I walked.
I belatedly realized that my Soulscape had not tried to grab anything at all since I came down here. My little planet spun slowly and quietly, as if it was apprehensive.
See, Vessa? I thought angrily to myself as I kept walking, moving slowly so that my eyes could adjust to the dim light. None of us are happy about having to do this.
I kept my steps careful and loud. The injured creature was either too injured to answer me or trying to hide. The second option was pointless, though, with the wide trail of blood still visible on the cavern floor.
I followed the trail down the cavern, calling out every now and then to announce my presence, and making no effort to hide my Source energy. That gave me away as a tri-practitioner, but hopefully it also convinced the stranger that I was unable to cause any harm. Soon the trail diminished to a bare trickle, and I realized at that point that the Sourcebeast had probably converted to human form. Nestor whispered into my mind that we were drawing close, and soon my own ears heard ragged breathing as well. I braced myself for what I was about to see, and took the final steps needed to bring the wounded being into view.
She was wearing a tattered, shapeless, brown dress that reached down to her shins but left her shoulders bare. Her skin was heavily tanned, almost leathery, and limp, gray hair hung from her head, obscuring much of her face, save for a shining dark eye that watched me as I stepped into view.
She was also drenched in wounds, running up her legs, her torso, and her arms. I couldn’t tell if she had any wounds on her face because of her hair.
Her breathing shuddered as I walked closer, and her stare intensified. I thought I saw anger and hate in her eye as she watched me.
Hurt-bad, Nestor whispered in my mind. Needs help, he urged.
I know, I thought bitterly, struggling not to lash out at him.
He was the only one that still didn’t realize how this would end.
“Hello,” I said, bowing as I tried to remember practitioner etiquette. “Junior greets Senior.”
The woman-beast bared her teeth and said nothing, still breathing and bleeding and shuddering.
“Fair enough,” I said with a shrug. Nestor squeaked in confusion. “I suppose I wouldn’t trust me in your situation either, but I will try anyway. My name is Jasper Cloud, of a master whose name I must still keep secret. I am here because I know you have been wounded in your battle with the bloodbeast on this world, and that your suffering is further empowering the creature. I have come to do what I can to heal, or at least ease, your pain, so that the bloodbeast will draw no further power from it, and my master can finish off the monster herself.”
The bleeding old woman blinked at me, and I just remembered that I had been speaking in English, and that she may very well have no idea what I was saying. Which meant that I would have to spend the next several minutes trying to guess whatever language she actually knew, assuming we had a common language at all. But then she surprised me, by answering back.
“Li-ar,” she said in a trembling voice, each syllable costing her. “Source-thief.”
I sighed, and gave up.
“Fine,” I snapped. “I’ll be blunt. I don’t want to be here right now. I don’t want to try and help you, because we both know there’s not a lot I can do for you, and I don’t want to spend the next minutes or hours trying to help you, and fail! But we’re both here right now, and something tells me that we’re both already accustomed to never getting what we want! So either attack me, and give me an excuse to leave and pretend I tried, or at least give some level of consent for me to fumble about and do the job I hate the most!”
Nestor leaped off my shoulder, squeaking in horror at my heartless tantrum. The old woman-beast blinked again, breathing a little less heavily.
“What?” she asked, not understanding.
More importantly, she did not lash out and kill me.
That would have to count.
“I have blankets and food,” I said, trying not to sound so harsh. “I have no bandages, and I doubt I have the power or skill to treat the root of your injuries even if I trusted you not to lash out at me while I worked. But I can try and make you warm and comfortable with the blankets, and the food packets will at least hydrate you, even if you subsist entirely on meat. Apologies, but I do not even know what manner of creature you are, except that you are powerful enough to take human form.”
I saw her swallow painfully, then answer me.
“Woman,” she said with a dry voice. “I am an old woman now, nothing more.”
“Very well, Senior,” I said, still trying to sound respectful. “With your permission, I will cover you with a blanket, and give you a pouch to drink.”
She blinked at me again. I could tell she was having trouble making up her mind, and probably finding it difficult to think clearly at all.
“Trap,” she croaked. “This is a trap.”
“Then it is a stupid trap,” I said harshly, losing my temper again. “Because you are either too broken to stop me from killing you, or I am too weak to take advantage of your trust and harm you. And the fact that I found this place at all, and came prepared with aid, means someone else already knows of your location. If my master had truly meant you harm, she would have sent someone much stronger than myself to end you. Now can I please come closer without you killing me?”
The old woman stared at me for a long moment, before sighing in defeat.
“Can’t stop you,” she sighed, losing something in that admission. “I give up. Do what you want.”
I walked over to her, desperately hoping that she was telling the truth. I unbundled the food and blankets I was carrying and draped the first one over her waist.
“Here is your drink,” I said, holding it out. “Can you sit up to drink it?”
The unnamed woman glared again, as if I had just asked a very stupid question.
“Very well,” I sighed. “I am going to try and prop you up. Please do not strike out at me as I do so. Tell me if you have any broken bones, so that I know how to lift you.”
“No breaks,” she answered me numbly. “Just cuts and poison. Can’t cure it.”
“Fair enough,” I said, lowering the other blankets I brought. I bundled one up as tightly as I could and lifted her up by the shoulders. I held an open pouch up to her, and she grasped it with weak, trembling hands, watching me with steady dark eyes.
I turned my head so that she could drink without an audience, hating how familiar this was. I am not a nurturer, I decided, because I still took absolutely no joy in offering this dying woman aid.
“More,” she demanded a moment later, holding out the empty pouch and apparently determined to take all the aid she could get. I handed her the other pouch, and she started drinking again without waiting for me to turn my head.
“More,” she said again soon, and I dutifully handed her my third pouch.
“More,” she said again, even sooner this time, and I handed her my fourth and final pouch. As soon as she finished, she asked for a fifth one, and I had to shake my head.
“That was all I packed,” I said sadly. “I am sorry.”
Here-here, Nestor spoke up in my mind. The little mouse darted up my shoulder again, raced down my arm, and somehow pulled another one of Vessa’s drinks out of the pouch in his belly, despite the fact that the entire packet was the same size as he was. One-more, he sent as he tore an opening at the top with his teeth.
The old woman blinked, apparently noticing him
for the first time, and took the drink from his tiny paws. When she finished drinking the fifth one, she sighed softly, clearly feeling better, even if the improvement was very minor.
“Thank you,” she breathed, eyes still closed.
“I am going to lay you back down now,” I told her, placing her head onto the rolled-up blanket I had placed to be her pillow. She let me do so, breathing a little steadier as I laid her on the large, fluffy piece of cloth.
“Your Sourcebeast,” she mumbled. “Not crazy. Doesn’t want to kill. Means you are not from that thing’s tribe,” she finished, opening her eyes to stare at me again. “You two are sane,” she pronounced, and Nestor squeaked happily in agreement.
Yes-yes! he declared, probably to us both. We-help!
“Debatably,” I said, giving her my own answer as I covered her with the third blanket and sat down next to her. “Nestor’s kindness does not benefit him nearly as much as he thinks it does, and instead of convincing him to behave otherwise, I go along with it most of the time.”
“True,” the woman muttered, and I realized she had still not told me her name or even what manner of Sourcebeast she was. “You will gain nothing from helping me. I will expend my energy when I die regardless of whatever you do. Arguably, you are harming yourselves, because the time you spend helping me could be better spent Drawing or killing something else. Perhaps you are mad after all,” she decided, staring at the ceiling.
“Fair enough,” I decided, noting that she seemed to be in far less pain now that she was warm and fed. I did it, Vessa. I did that horrible, awful thing you asked me. You owe me. “Tell, me, though,” I decided to ask. “Why did you battle the bloodbeast? My master said there was no gain in such a battle, and that you had no obligations to others on this world.”
The old woman tried to chuckle, and failed.
“Because I am mad as well,” she said with a bitter smile, looking at me again. Behind her eyes, I saw that she had come to another decision. “Very well, practitioner Jasper Cloud and lifemouse Nestor Cloud. My name in this tongue is Mara. My original name is too hard for your race to speak, and too meaningless now to be worth remembering. I am dragon, and because I smelt the essence of a slain drake on your soul, I did not answer you when you first called out.”
Soul Shelter Page 8
