"Now the mana is replacing the blood, reactivating the lingering light fusion from before it was severed. By my maker, it's healing on its own!" ¨C
Solus was free to express her shock, but Lith had to keep his calm demeanour, acting like everything was normal instead of panicking. Just to be certain it wasn't all a crazy dream, Lith attempted to bend the left little finger.
It moved at will.
Lith extended his remaining hand to Elina.
"Mom, I'm a little scared now." Lith tried to convey his real feelings without arising suspicions, at the same time drawing all the attention on himself. While focusing on his mother's warmth, he tried to call back the energies from the arm, but to no avail.
The closer it got, the stronger the connection.
The reattaching process went without a hitch, immediately followed by the healing one. Lith had to carefully remain still the whole time, a single spasm would betray his new and untimely secret.
* * *
The night before the sabotage in the dimensional magic's training hall, a few hundred kilometres south from the border of the Griffon Kingdom, the High Council of the desert tribes had gathered, trying to plea their case to the Benefactor.
The Blood Desert was the biggest out of the three Great Countries in the Garlen continent, the other two being the Griffon Kingdom and the Gorgon Empire. According to many, it was also the strongest and the most dangerous.
The reason was that despite its harsh climate, the Blood Desert was the richest one in terms of mystic treasures and natural resources. While in other places to find magic crystals, one had to dig through mountains or explore vast forests, in the Blood Desert it was enough to find an oasis.
The geysers of world energy that everywhere else were hidden, and could be found only by sheer luck or resorting to powerful artifacts like Solus or the Scorpicore's pince-nez, there would manifest themselves in the form of water, vegetation and life.
Among its dunes, it was possible to find rock formations rich in a rare metal, the Davross, that after being smelt and forged it would change its colour from silver to black, according to how it was exposed to light, but most importantly was capable of cutting through iron like it was just wood.
Davross was the strongest material known to man.
Despite its name, the Blood Desert's sands weren't red, but yellow gold. It derived from the countless lives lost during the past wars, when the different desert tribes would fight among themselves or against the foreigners trying to rob them of their land.
War had been a constant in the desert, because no amount of mana crystals or Davross could turn the weather humid, quench the thirst of humans and cattle or make the land fertile.
Despite all the riches it held, food and water had always been the only currency that held any real value in the desert. In the past, the tribes would fight for the control of the oasis, either by their own will or manipulated by the people of the plains, wishing to exploit their needs to pursue the monopoly of resources.
But not anymore. After the Benefactor's arrival, the desert had been unified and the word competition had been replaced by the stranger sounding "cooperation."
Oasis were now shared, and each tribe would periodically rotate from one zone of the desert to another, allowing everyone to cyclically enjoy everything their Country had to offer.
Each of the tribe leaders, now simply called Feathers, would receive wisdom and power, becoming strong in the ways of magic regardless of the talent they were born with. But what now could seem a divine country, came with a price.
The Benefactor's laws were the only laws, and the lightest punishment for breaking them was death. The Feathers would rule above their people, but any change, small or big had to receive the Benefactor's approval.
Even the High Council had been reduced to a mere formality, only one will really mattered. That was the reason it was now held only after the sunset, when the Benefactor had a less fiery temperament.
That night, the convened Feathers, were trying to persuade the Benefactor about the many advantages the desert tribes would reap from invading a weakened Griffon Kingdom.
Chapter 131 Blood in the Deser
Their spies had brought news that a civil war was inevitable, it was the perfect moment to start planning their invasion.
Speaking in their name, was Ashun Dagfuur, Feather of the Red Lion tribe, temporarily appointed as High Feather, first among equals and spokesman of the tribes. He was a tall man, around 1.84 meters (6') high, with a lean and muscular body, an olive complexion and a long but well-groomed beard.
Like all the Feathers, he wore heavy white pants and shirt to endure the coldness of the night, and a turban on his head, with a huge ruby on its centre to represent his status in the tribe.
The meeting was held in a ceremonial tent, golden in colour whose sides and floor were covered by carpets and tapestries depicting the collective history of the desert.
The roof of the tent was enchanted to be able to turn invisible at will, since the Benefactor hated constricted spaces, and this way was still able to gaze at the moon and the stars.
The space was perfectly lighted by twenty-seven black iron braziers, one for each tribe. Their fires were fueled by the magic of their respective Feather, used both to symbolize his strength and vote once a discussion had come to an end.
As always, Ashun spoke with passion, describing all the green lands and water springs, waiting for tribes to seize them from the weak and stupid plainsmen. His black eyes searched for the other Feather's approval and support, but he found none.
After he had begun his speech, all eyes were fixated on the lonely figure standing on the other side of the tent, watching its every movement.
It was a fiery red bird, three meters (9' 10") high, with the body of an eagle and the tail's feathers resembling those of a peacock. The legendary phoenix Salaark, also known as the Benefactor of the desert, that centuries before had united all the tribes under its rule.
It was whispered that from each of its feathers, a peerless weapon could be forged, and that its blood held the secret of immortality. To fit into the tent, it had shrunk remarkably, and was now in its most vulnerable state.
Despite that, no man or woman among the Feathers felt any kind of emotion aside from respect and fear.
Salaark stood still, its eyes closed, knowing it would not be able to controls itself if it opened them.
Once Ashun had finished, it asked a simple question.
"So, are you going to leave the desert?" Salaark's voice wasn't loud, but still sounded perfectly clear to all of those present.
"No, my liege. The Red Lion would never do that." He raised his hands and lowered his head in a sign of submission.
"I'm only proposing for us to take revenge against the plains and secure new resources."
"Revenge?" It asked opening a single eye. "To bring death to the living will not make their ancestors suffer. It sounds more like a petty excuse to leave because you are unsatisfied with what you have now."
"I will not leave and I'm not ungrateful." He said trying to appear strong and confident, but cold sweat ran down his spine.
"Then how do you propose to keep the conquered springs? What good is a fertile soil if not tilled?"
"Well, of course some of our men will have to stay behind with their families. But only to establish a supply chain that will benefit all the tribes."
"I don't care for your sweet words, only for their meaning." Salaark harshly replied.
"You want for your people to move away, to grow their children in a foreign land, afar from the desert and from me! I have no objection to your plan." The last phrase left everyone shocked, leniency had never been its strong suit.
"But at the same time, I will give it no support. Those who wish to take part in it are free to do it, as long they first return to me all my blessings." The second part, instead, was perfectly in line with its character, making all the Feathers turn pale.
"Just to be clear, are you speaking as High Feather, as Feather of the Red Lion tribe, or just for yourself?" Salaark's eyes opened, releasing a massive amount of killing intent that brought Ashun to his knees, its talons tapping on the ground had the rhythm of war drums.
"He does not speak for the Golden Eagle tribe." Said a middle-aged woman standing up from her chair, just to kneel on the ground, her forehead touching the floor while her brazier turned black, denying the High Feather's words.
"He does not speak for the Silver Wolf tribe." One after the other, all the Feathers knelt down, the black light from the braziers projecting an eerie atmosphere.
"He does not speak for the Red Lion tribe." Recognizing Ashun's failure, the elders that accompanied him disowned their leader, hoping to spare their people from being banished forever.
Through a collective effort, they managed to snatch the flame from Ashun's control, turning it black and leaving him alone. The turn of the events had shocked him, but not to the point to not recognize what had happened.
Beneath the tension and fear appearing on his peers' visage, he could see their lips curling into a barely contained smile. He knew to be unpopular due to his overbearing character, trying to benefit his tribe at everyone else's expenses.
But that was because under his leadership, the Red Lion had grown to be one of the most populous and strongest desert tribes. Ashun had used that in the past to put pressure on the neighbouring tribes, to gain more and give less, boosting his status in his community.
When they had appointed him High Feather, he had thought they were finally ready to submit. Instead it had all been a ruse to take him out without a war, in perfect accord with the laws of the desert.
Whatever the outcome of the Council, they would have gained a profit, either by invading new lands or by eliminating a powerful rival. They had used his ego against him, turning Ashun in an unwitting sacrificial pawn.
He knew what was going to happen next, after being stripped of his title from the elders, the Benefactor would take away all the artifacts and the books Salaark had given him through the years. Lastly, it would strip him of her greater blessing, the gift for magic.
Ashun had been a talentless youth before meeting the Benefactor. The phoenix had been fascinated by his passion and dedication to the tribe, sharing with him her secrets and wisdom, turning the boy into one of the mightiest magical warriors of the Red Lion.
And now it would take everything back. Ashun didn't know how Salaark had boosted his mana capacity and magical strength; he had been made unconscious every time it "treated him". But he had seen many times how it would revert the effects.
A simple glance and the victim's body would twist and writhe, the veins would turn blue and bulge out, while the mana would literally be squeezed out through excruciating pain, until nothing was left.
Ashun had lived his thirty-six years as a warrior, a leader, a man among men. He couldn't bear the thought of losing so much and live the rest of his life in disgrace. Before the sentence was carried out, Ashun used magic one last time, stopping his own heart.
In death, his honour would be saved, and his family would be treated as the grieving relatives of a dead Feather, instead like those of a traitor.
The Benefactor looked at the corpse, nodding slightly at Ashun's final decision.
Salaark had liked him as a boy and loved him as a man, but once he had become a leader they had grown apart. The more power he acquired, the more dissatisfied he became.
First stealing from his own tribe, then twisting the arms of the neighbouring ones to quench his thirst for glory. And now, he had even the gall to ask for Salaark to consent to a senseless migratory war.
If the phoenix had ever wanted to leave the desert, it would have already done it. If it wanted to bathe the world in fire and blood, Salaark wouldn't need to spend centuries teaching the tribes magic and how to prosper in the harsh environment it called home.
"I am Salaark, the desert's sun! My path, is the only path! My words are law!" It roared spreading its wings, setting the whole tent and its occupants ablaze, yet burning none.
"I can be like the sunrise that harbingers a new era, or like the sunset that preludes a dark night! Summon me again out of petty greed, and all the tribes will need new leaders."
Chapter 132 Suffering
After Professor Marth finished healing Lith's arm, the bandages were removed, revealing that it was back to normal, except for one small detail. Unlike the rest of his body, that still retained his normal colour, it was pale like it had never seen the light.
Marth didn't miss the silent question in his eyes.
"Sorry, I don't know how Manohar manages to do that. In theory it's impossible for new skin to retain any kind of tan, but that doesn't stop him from doing it anyway."
Then, whispered in Lith's ear:
"It's better if you go to Manohar later, if the skin problem bothers you. I don't feel like bringing him back here would be a good idea."
Lith nodded, both the Headmaster and his father probably wouldn't be able to take in another one of his pep talks.
"Professor, you have yet to tell me what happened after I lost consciousness." - Thanks to Solus, Lith already knew the answer , but he needed to pretend to be curious about it.
"Yes, indeed. But it's better if you hear it from the ones that actually saved your life. It took quite some effort to force your friends to leave your bedside and get some rest."
His parents were moved, hearing their son had such dedicated friends, Lith not so much, since it made crumble another chunk of his personal beliefs. It also raised a creepy question.
"Solus, since now I'm wearing an hospital nightgown, please, tell me Manohar didn't strip me in front of the others."
"No, he didn't." She giggled. "But there would be nothing wrong with it, you are all doctors after all."
"True, but if the situation was reversed, do you think any girl would like being seen naked by three of her male friends?"
"It depends on the friends, I guess." There was a hint of malice in her words.
"Okay, that's it." Lith decided to solve the matter once and for all.
"Solus, what's happening to you? Ever since we came to the academy, from time to time you try to fix me a girl or another, say something inappropriate, like right now. People aren't just slabs of meat, they have feelings too."
"That's rich, coming from you!" For the first time since they had met, Lith could sense her anger. He didn't reply, waiting for Solus to vent out.
"Since when do you care for feelings? All you do is lying to manipulate everyone, fight like a madman, amass power, rinse and repeat. Have you ever thought about my feelings? About how scared I am every time you do something stupid, putting your life at risk like it's nothing?
Or how envious I am of all of you, free to talk, laugh, walk in the sun, while I'm trapped all the day inside a ring of stone, living my life through you? And to be honest, is not much of a life.
You have so many people that love you, so many chances to get close to others and become real friends, instead of just pretending. Yet you always reject them like trash, and that makes me furious.
You know, maybe the Scorpicore was right. Maybe I really am a cursed object, because this life sometimes really feels like a curse." ¨C
Despite she had no tears to shed, to Lith it was like she was bawling her eyes out.
It made him feel terribly guilty and helpless. Too often he had closed himself to her, either to study or practice, speaking only to ask her help. They had been together for so long, yet he still sometimes treated Solus like some kind of home appliance.
Lith couldn't deny anything she had said. To him people were just tools, while feelings were a useless burden.
"I'm sorry, Solus. I don't know what to say. All this time I never stopped considering how you felt, always taking your happiness for granted."
"It's not entirely your fault." She mind-sniffed. "I never shared my worries with you, b
ecause I was afraid you wouldn't care or understand. Thanks for proving me wrong." A warm aura spread from her consciousness, the equivalent of a hug.
"By my maker, it was all so much easier when we just met. With me being content just with surviving, learning new things every day. But now, knowledge is not enough anymore. I want to feel, I want to experience, and you are my only window to the world.
I should be the one apologizing, for being so pushy all this time."
"Well, maybe between Necromancy and Forgemastering, we can find a way to give you a proxy body."
"A corpse or a golem? Thanks, but no thanks. I already feel like a monster, sometimes, I don't need to also look like one. Besides, I think life isn't a problem to be fixed, more like something I need to decide if it's worth having." ¨C
Lith didn't like at all how the conversation had turned out. His only true friend was suffering, and that wasn't something he could just passively accept.
After changing into a new uniform, he let Professor Marth call for his 'friends', that despite the short notice arrived incredibly fast.
Normally, Lith would have found a way to avoid the inevitable group hug that ensued, but Solus' words were still ringing in his ears.
"Progress, not perfection." ¨C He repeated in his mind, like a mantra, resisting the revulsion that the physical contact with those four strangers arose at instinct level.
They drowned him in questions about his health, repeating more than once how they had thought to have lost him. Elina was moved to the tears, seeing their affection for her child.
"Guys, allow me to introduce you to my parents, Raaz and Elina."
At those words, they finally released him.
Raaz shook their hands, while Elina embraced them tightly.
"If you ever come to pass in our village, you will always be welcome in our home. I'll never be able to thank you enough."
After a few niceties, Lith prompted them to tell him what had happened after he crashed into the spatial crack.
Despite already knowing everything, he remained impressed by their focus and dedication during such a critical moment, to the point of remembering the finest details. Obviously, with Linjos present, they overlooked all the punching part.
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