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Story: Grave Situation
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“No,” Jaimin says. “It must be something else.” It’s not the first time he’s said it—as soon as I suggested that he might need to heal whatever went wrong with the godly part of me, he began to argue about it. Peiris agreed that it fit with the context of the prophecy; Jaimin protested. Arimen said it was consistent with some of the stories of the godsborn; Jaimin argued. Coryn thought maybe Jaimin could just have a look at my mind and see if it was a possibility; Jaimin declined. I wisely said nothing then—if Jaimin was going to argue with Coryn , of all people, there was no chance he was ready to listen.
But most of the day has passed and we’re getting ready for bed, and I figured it was time to make my case. Turns out, he’s still not ready to listen.
“Jaimin—”
“No. I refuse to believe that my whole purpose for being on this trip is this.”
That throws me. This is arguably the most important thing any of us can do, with the exception of Wasianth when he finally shows up. When I show up? Whatever. The godsborn can’t defeat the zombie army if he—I—doesn’t have awareness of his abilities. That means it all depends on Jaimin.
“Why? This could save millions of lives. Isn’t that part of your calling as a healer?”
He looks away, his face a study of misery, and I decide it’s time to reassess. This seems to be about more than just what’s being said.
I sit on the edge of my bunk and wait. There are two beds in this room, and neither of them is wide enough to hold both of us comfortably. That hasn’t stopped us from sharing, though. We’ve gotten used to less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements. We did try to move the beds together, but they’re bolted down to prevent them sliding around on rough seas.
I’m starting to wonder if I’ll have to be the one to break the silence, but finally, he grabs his pillow and hits it angrily. “Is this why we love each other?” he demands.
“What?” Did the subject get changed without me noticing?
“The kind of healing this would be—if it’s even possible, because nobody’s ever even considered it before—would be deep inside the personality part of your brain. Healers don’t go there, as a rule. It’s… intimate. You’d have to trust the healer on a level that most people don’t trust others. I can’t think of any healer who’d be willing to do that kind of healing, because it’s uncomfortable for us too.”
His implication hits me hard. “You’re wondering if we were fated to fall in love with each other so we’d trust each other enough for you to heal me.”
He swallows hard and sinks down to sit on the edge of his bunk, still holding the pillow. “I… I’d begun to think that maybe the reason I was here was because you needed me. That I was supposed to be your support system so you could do whatever was needed. I’m okay with that. I actually like the idea of being here not because I’m Master Kahwyn, the healer, but because I’m Jaimin, the man you love and need. The idea that I’m still only needed for my Talent, that you were maneuvered into loving me just so I can do this…” He trails off, and I toss aside my intention to let him work through this on his own. I’m off my bunk and on his within seconds, curling my body around his and pulling him down to lie with me on the mattress.
“I love and need you, and I’ll still love and need you if you don’t do this,” I promise him. “Part of me doesn’t want you to, anyway. What happens to me when Wasianth is back? If I’m going to be selfish, I want to take you and run far away from this ship and everyone who might make us do the things that could pull us apart.”
He stares into my eyes, then inches his head forward until our lips touch. “Me too.”
For a long while, we lie like that, kissing but not, tangled together like we never want to let each other go. Eventually, we sigh in unison, startling a laugh from both of us.
Jaimin pulls back slightly, his lips quirking in the way I love so much. “We can’t, can we?”
“We can ,” I correct. “But I don’t think it would make either of us happy in the long-term.” We both have too strong a sense of responsibility—even me, which is surprising.
He shakes his head. “No. It wouldn’t.” Sighing again, he untangles himself from me and sits up, and I make a grab for him as he immediately tumbles off the narrow bed. “Ow,” he says from the deck, and I lean over the edge and reach out a hand.
“I tried to catch you.”
He climbs back up beside me, rubbing his hip. “When we get that tub for our rooms, we should also get a bed so big, we can both lie horizontally across it.”
“Yes. And then we’ll never leave our rooms, and eventually people will start to ask what happened to us, but they’ll never know that we’re living out our lives in peaceful bliss, going from tub to bed and back again.”
He chuckles. “Why did you have to make it sound weird?”
“I didn’t!” I protest. I thought it sounded wonderful.
Sighing, he leans his head against my shoulder. “I have to do this, don’t I?”
“Do you even know what it is you’d need to do?” Maybe we can just plead ignorance.
He makes a humming sound. “Are you asking if there’s a guide on how to reconstruct the consciousness of a god?”
“It’s not a stupid question. Not very stupid, anyway.”
He straightens. “It’s not. I don’t know exactly what I’ll find, but I presume it will be in the part of the brain that makes you uniquely you. That’s not something we usually heal, since it’s centered around personality. Honestly, we don’t even look at it.”
This isn’t reassuring. “So you’re going to poke around in a part of my mind that you’re not familiar with and that’s the most personal, private part of me? Delightful.”
“Why do I love you, again?”
Grinning, I kiss his cheek and then stand. “How do you want to do this?” I try to sound confident and self-assured, and not like my palms are sweating.
His head snaps up, startlement all over his face. “Now? You want to do it now?”
“No, but waiting isn’t going to gain us anything. The dragons are patrolling over the estate, but the stone’s insistence that they can’t act without… me, means that everybody’s in a holding pattern until the right me arrives. If Uncle and the main zombie army move out before we’re ready, even more people will die, Jaimin. We’re barely coping with small groups of zombies.”
“They haven’t moved yet,” he says stubbornly.
“But they could anytime. What happens then? A pitched battle somewhere in Rebithia, or wherever we can get enough dragons and mages together to make an impact? How many more will be killed and turned into zombies? We can’t delay. Especially because we don’t know if this is the right answer. What if you’re not supposed to heal me, and we need to keep looking for how to bring Wasianth out? We’ll be wasting time if we wait.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, and then he nods curtly. “You’re right.” Taking a deep breath, he says, “You’ll be more comfortable if you lie on your bed.”
Oh gods’ turds, we’re really doing this. Swallowing hard, I muster a smile. “Okay.”
I lie down and try to make myself as comfortable as I can with every muscle clenched, and Jaimin sits on the side of the bed, right beside my hip. His warmth is both comforting and disconcerting. He’s going to be in my head in a second.
“Ready?”
No. “Yes.”
He hesitates, then leans down and kisses me hard and fast. “I love you. No matter what happens, I love you, Talon Silverbright.”
“I love you too. It’s going to be okay,” I add, and he looks away.
“Close your eyes. It’ll be easier.”
I obey, wrapping my forearms across my stomach and clenching my fists.
I feel the light touch of his fingertips on my temples. “Lower your shields, just for a second,” he murmurs, and I understand now why fate needed us to love each other. Jaimin is the only healer I would ever let inside my shields.
It’s immediately apparent when he reaches the part of my mind that’s always been private—I feel deeply squirmy, as though someone I don’t know has tried to give me a hug, only worse.
“Oh,” he murmurs, and the note of fascination in his voice is concerning.
“What?”
“Whoa. That echoes.”
Bile rises at the thought of someone being able to hear my words from inside my head.
“It’s just me,” he adds, proving that he can actually hear what I’m thinking.
“It’s still not nice,” I say, choosing to speak aloud. It’s a measure of control. Even if this is Jaimin, the man I’d do anything for and love more than my own self, there are parts of me that should be mine alone.
He chooses to pretend he can’t hear that thought, instead explaining, “I think I see what the problem is. There’s a part of your… you that’s separate. The threads that make up your consciousness are disconnected from it.”
“Can you fix it?”
“I don’t know. I can try.”
“Do it.” I’ve come too far now to turn back.
Hours later, as my muscles cramp and my skin crawls from the unrelenting sensation of someone being inside my head all this time, I wonder if this was a mistake. Maybe we should?—
My whole body bows off the bed, my lungs sucking in air as something in my head catches fire. White-hot pain consumes my mind, taking over every thought, every ounce of awareness, until?—
Until it stops. And I float in the stillness of a billion stars, only they’re not stars. They’re thoughts. Memories. Mine. And also not mine.
I see them then, the tiny filaments connecting the memories and thoughts to each other, a vast, complex network. I see the filament connecting it all to me. And I finally understand.
I’m Wasianth, but I’m Talon too. I’m the me I’ve always been, but I’m also a reincarnate. I know everything he ever knew, remember every life he’s lived, have access to almost all his powers… but I’m still Talon. I haven’t been booted out of myself.
“Talon?” Jaimin’s voice sounds like I’m underwater, muffled and distant, but I still hear the urgency, and I reluctantly leave the vault of my mind and return to full consciousness.
My eyes open. “I’m okay,” I rasp, and then, as my gaze focuses, I realize we’re no longer alone. Coryn, Peiris, and Arimen hover beside Jaimin, the former two armed, and behind them, in the doorway, is the ship’s captain.
“You were screaming,” Arimen says shakily. “Screaming like someone was murdering you.”
I don’t tell him that if I’d been being murdered, it probably would have hurt less. Instead, I manage a small smile. “Sorry. I’m okay, though.” I’m not sure what Jaimin’s told them.
“See? Just a nightmare, like I said,” he adds, filling in the gaps. “Thank you all for checking on us, though.”
The captain murmurs his goodnight and leaves, closing the door behind him.
“Was it really a nightmare?” Peiris asks softly, and I shake my head and sit up.
“Jaimin healed me.”
“Healing doesn’t hurt,” Coryn insists. “Let me check under the bed.”
Jaimin lays a hesitant hand on my cheek as Arimen explains to Coryn why nobody could possibly be hiding under the bed. “Talon?” he whispers.
I turn my face into his palm and kiss it. “Yes.”
Relief causes him to sag. “Good. That’s good. Did… Did it not work?”
“Oh no, it worked,” I say just as Arimen finishes. My words fall into a sudden silence.
“It worked?” Peiris breathed. Arimen’s mouth gapes open and closed like a fish’s. It would be funny if not for?—
“O, Great Wasianth!” he cries, dropping to his knees and bowing his head.
I sigh. “Please don’t do that, Arimen. I’m still me.”
“And you’ll wear out the knees of your pants,” Peiris adds practically. “Especially if you’re going to do this every time you see him.”
Arimen looks uncertain and confused. “But he’s a god. My god. I can’t just treat him like he’s any normal person.”
Those words make my skin crawl. “I’m going to need you to not call me ‘your god,’ please. Really. Please.”
Peiris coughs lightly, and Jaimin presses his lips together to hide a smile. “It would be safer for us all, especially Talon, if we didn’t mention godhood at all,” he suggests diplomatically. “We don’t know how people are going to react to it.”
The uncertainty on Arimen’s pale face instantly morphs into shocked indignation. “Do you mean people might not be happy to know that a god walks among us?”
“That’s exactly what he means,” I confirm. “We know the gods are special to you, but not everybody has the same relationship with them—plus, some people react badly to those with power. You’ve noticed how the crew is much more reserved around me and Jaimin, right?”
Sighing, he shakes his head. “I know I’m supposed to hold everyone in the same high esteem, but some people are just disappointments.”
This time, Jaimin lifts a hand to cover his mouth, unable to repress his amusement. I try to keep a straight face as I reply, “I understand. I feel that way about most people I meet.”
Arimen’s eyes narrow. “That’s a very Talon thing to say. Are you sure Wasianth is in you too?”
Resisting the urge to say that the only man who gets to be “in me” is Jaimin, I nod solemnly. “I’m still me, but I have all his memories and knowledge. I’m really sorry to tell you this, Arimen, but Wasianth was not a reverent or ascetic kind of god. He was more the ‘have fun as long as you do no harm’ kind of god.” That’s the most innocent-friendly way of explaining it, and I’m braced for Arimen’s heartbreak.
To my surprise, he smiles. “Oh, I know. That’s one of the things I like best about him… you. Him.”
“Him,” I agree, and he nods.
“He loves and supports his followers without being all fussy about it. Like a fun uncle who will take your side no matter what, but still tell you if you’ve done the wrong thing.”
Peiris stirs. “Perhaps I should have spent more time studying these gods of yours. None of ours are like fun uncles.”
“None of my uncles are fun,” Coryn interjects. “They’re all like my father, and he thinks fun is a dirty word… unless he’s the one having it. I don’t want to interrupt your god talk, but it’s really late, and if we need to get up early tomorrow, we should get some rest.”
“Why would we need to get up early?” Arimen asks. “What’s happening tomorrow?”
The question hangs in the room, and I let out a quiet sigh and lean slightly into Jaimin, letting the familiar warmth of him press against my arm. “Rest is a good idea. Tomorrow, we can talk to the stone and see what it thinks the next steps are.”
“You mean… No, I don’t understand. Why would the next steps be different? The prophecy said we need to go to the birthplace.” He sets his jaw stubbornly in a way that reminds me how young he is—not that I needed the reminder.
“Talon has his full power now,” Jaimin explains quietly. “That might change some things.”
“But the prophecy said ?—”
“Yes, we know what the prophecy said,” I cut in before youthful enthusiasm can take over the whole night. “We’re following the prophecy’s dictates. In the meantime, though, there are some other things we can consider. Now that I’m not as vulnerable, I could take Leicht and reconnoiter, for one thing. We still don’t know the identity of the high priest who’s with my uncle. It might change things if we knew which god they serve and why they think raising zombies is a good idea.” No matter what angle I consider the situation from, I can’t understand why the temples got involved with this. Times of violent upheaval have never been beneficial for them. “I’d also like to speak to my father and personally wring some more details out of his hide.” Master and Leicht have informed me that he claims Uncle Domys learned to raise zombies all on his own, but I don’t believe that. There’s another mage involved in this somehow, and until we know who they are, they’re a danger to us all.
Arimen’s lips purse, like he’s weighing the importance of all that against his deep-seated need to obey the prophecy to the letter.
“We’re definitely following instructions and going where the prophecy wants us to,” I promise him. “I’m apparently the champion, remember?” And won’t that make most of the councilors back at the academy choke. “I need to do whatever I’m supposed to do to end all this.” The stone’s been very clear on that fact. A number of people thought we should just have dragons raze the whole of my family estate and get rid of those zombies that way—and I won’t lie, the idea wasn’t completely without appeal, even if it did make a secret part of me sad—but the queen objected vociferously, especially given there’s supposedly a champion somewhere who can help. After what I’ve been told was a heated discussion, it was agreed that the dragons would patrol from the air and ensure the zombie army stayed put, but that if it showed signs of moving out, they would take whatever steps necessary.
So far, there’s been no movement. That makes me very uneasy. Reports indicate that there are several thousand zombies at the estate. That may not sound like a lot up against all the armies of Vaderyn, plus mages and dragons, but even a hardened soldier might struggle to take down a foe that won’t die. Dragons have limitations depending on the terrain and location of innocent bystanders, as we’ve discovered, and mages are limited by the amount of energy needed. Magefire uses a lot, and the first thing students learn is that pushing beyond your magical reserves leads to death.
Plus, any close-quarters engagement runs the risk of soldiers and mages being scratched or bitten and turned into zombies themselves. History hasn’t taught us much about the zombie wars, but it did teach us that it only takes a few zombies to wreak havoc.
“Can we ask the stone now?” The vulnerability in Arimen’s voice is something I don’t like at all.
“Let’s wait until morning. Nothing’s going to change before then, and we all need some sleep,” Jaimin insists, and Arimen reluctantly nods.
Coryn and Peiris are already in the hallway when our youngest companion suddenly turns back and meets my gaze. “I know you think I’m disappointed that you’re Wasianth, but I’m not. I’m glad it’s you. I can trust you to do what’s right.”
His words keep me awake long into the night.
Table of Contents
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