Batshit Mages - 7. Hesitation of Honesty

"Quick, call a healer!"

Something tugged at his left sleeve. Teague looked down. A girl was staring at him with a horrified look. She pointed down the soft slope of the hill they were standing on, towards a small gaggle of children leaning over one that was lying in the grass. Part of the kid's robe looked singed.

A cursory glance over the scene by the walls, the herb garden and down at the beach confirmed Teague's suspicion that every able mage had their hands full at this moment, so he nudged the girl forward and skidded the few paces down the hill with her to her friends. They immediately made room for him.

The girl lying curled up on her side before him was almost still, but she was conscious, and obviously in pain. She was biting back her sobs, presumably because it hurt to move even that little. She had her eyes squeezed shut most of the time.

"I dunno, she's burned!" one of the boys said in a horrified tone.

"Some, like, that lightning blast!" another one supplied helpfully.

The lower half of her robe on her right side was scorched and blackened but looked wet at the same time. Part of it was not her robe. The middle part of the huge, dark stain glistened and pulsated.

With the thunderous attack cloud and the roaring waves gone now, the soft sobs and moans from those caught in the tentacles of the magical storm now crept through Teague's consciousness like icy worms, freezing a thin, brittle but stiff film of uncomfortable reality over the exhilarated wonder at Kjeld's skill he had been filled with a moment ago. He knelt at the girl's back and moved to roll up his sleeves – only to realise that they had been rolled up over his elbows all along.

"What's her name?" He needed to sound calm and in command now. He thought he managed it well enough.

"Bahar," said one of the boys.

"Stand back," Teague said softly, and they all obeyed. They even stayed silent as they watched Teague hover his palms over the large wound in Bahar's thigh. First, he needed to know what exactly the damage was, where the flesh and skin ended and the remnants of the robe began.

"I'm sorry, Bahar. I'll start healing you in a second, just be brave a little longer, alright?" He looked over at her face, which nodded minutely with a tiny, desperate squeak. "I have to lift your robe so it's not in the way." She nodded again and mewled a little. Teague sat back on his heels and lifted the hem of her robe to peel it upwards very carefully. He briefly wondered whether he ought to be more comforting and tender, and not as brisk and mechanical as he was – but this thought was quickly drowned out by the sight and sound of the frayed fabric disconnecting from Bahar's burned flesh.

Her soft whine made him curse inwardly.

Teague was not a healer.

But he was a necromancer. A capable one.

So he knew enough about flesh and about mending it, about life and death and the stages in between, to have a very good idea of the state of Bahar's leg and how to improve it.

What he did not know was how it would feel when he told Bahar's cells to work faster and harder to push off the black and grey parts of her to replace them. It made a few unhealthy ripping sounds and made her twitch and scream a few times, so he stopped before the writhing, bubbling wound was completely closed.

And not a second too soon.

"What the bloody fuck are you doing?!"

Teague was jostled to the side and almost fell over before he could scramble up to his feet. Magister Borna was livid. She spared him one more glare before leaning over Bahar to assess the situation – and the damage – in a matter of seconds. Seemingly without thinking about it, she grabbed at the air with a twist of her hand and pinched something invisible into Bahar's wound.

The wound stilled and stayed in its raw state, but Bahar stopped trembling and sighed in relief. Borna turned back to Teague.

"You stay away! Go back into your fucking kennel until Braegan lets you out again!" She actually pointed at him.

It was only the wide-eyed awe and confusion on the kids' faces he rued afterwards.

New and young mages did not know him and what he was, so they treated him like everyone else, or even with respect because he was obviously older and more powerful than they were, and knew his way around. It was why he liked giving tours to the new ones and tutoring them. But eventually everyone always learned the truth.

Teague was not prone to moping or to bouts of anger. But after this experience, he found he had lost his grip on his emotion for once. He had not even been aware that he had enough emotion to hold on to and contain, but there it was. On his way back over the hill – the long way, to wind down and repossess his own mind – he stared out into the dark blue space surrounding the island, the night sky. Dusk had slipped by without him noticing.

It must have happened during the small battle.

All the light had been different during the magical storm and all that spellcasting afterwards.

And something else had escaped his notice as well.

The sounds behind him.

Now that he had stopped almost at the edge of the cliff, that rustling most definitely could not be caused by himself. He turned halfway around to look over his shoulder.

"You're not going to jump, are you?"

No. He stared at Kjeld.

Suddenly aware of his own face and utterly unsure how best to make it look, he turned his gaze back to the dark sky hanging over the darker ocean.

"The way you were marching up here, I thought you had something really serious and urgent to take care of. And seeing as there's nothing but..." Kjeld came closer, walked past him and peered over the edge, "... a long way down... I thought I should check." He smiled at Teague.

Kjeld still looked exhausted and slightly out of breath, but in a good, excited way. He looked happy.

Teague was staring at him. With a scrutinising, suspicious frown. Maybe it looked a little accusing, or insulted, and Teague knew that, or suspected it, and had absolutely no reason for it, but he couldn't stop.

"... I'm alright," he finally managed to grumble.

What are you following me for, checking on me, after saving the day like that?

"You agreed to be honest with me," said Kjeld lightly, after a short pause spent studying Teague's face. Then he looked around their feet and just sat down in the wiry grass.

Teague did not follow his example. He crossed his arms. Just because he had no idea what else to do with them.

"Did the storm get you?" asked Kjeld.

"No."

"Then what is it?"

Teague looked at the water.

Maybe he should tell him now. He did ask for it, after all. Not just now, but that night, when he had confided in him with his own history.

But this was different.

Knowing something about Kjeld's past did not alter who he was now.

But this... Kjeld would eventually learn of this, anyway. But not now. It would change things.

"I had no idea you were this powerful," Teague mumbled. "That was impressive."

He blinked against the breeze. It was soft, but stung his eyes anyway. A swaying halm of something tickled the side of his leg through his robe. And from the other side, Kjeld's gaze sort of tickled his cheek and temple and made him want to turn his back to him.

"... Is this you being impressed then? I'll be sure to never be impressive again."

Teague looked at him. Kjeld's face was not entirely serious and his tone had been light. He looked so completely at ease.

"I apologise. Thank you for what you did. And I really am impressed by what you can do."

Kjeld shrugged and smiled.

"To be honest, I didn't know it would work. But it was worth the try."

"Now everyone else is going to wonder what you're doing here," mused Teague, finally managing to face Kjeld properly. He sat down in the grass opposite him.

Kjeld shrugged again. How he managed to make that look this graceful, Teague could not fathom.

"The Magisters already know my reasons, and you. The others can wonder all they want."

Teague blinked. He had to remind himself to breathe.

Somehow this had sounded like flattery. His cautious assumption, not quite believed by himself, seemed to be confirmed now. He mattered to Kjeld more than anyone else here. At least that was what it had sounded like just now. Kjeld really seemed to have no other friends.

"But you have no excuse to stay here now," said Teague with a small smile. "You're not interested in research, or teaching... you only take classes in things you've already mastered or that are... really banal... You can't justify staying here now. Even if you're paying as well as you do, it'll be strange."

Kjeld stretched a bit and looked out at the dark ocean, now almost still like a pitted obsidian mirror. Teague followed his gaze, then picked out a random reed to tear out and occupy his hands with. It was fairly stiff but still supple enough to tie knots into.

"Where would I go? To do what?" mumbled Kjeld. "Back to the war? The way your military works, I'd do nothing but fight until I die. Service is for life here."

"Not necessarily." Teague's voice was low, too. He was on his fourth knot.

"For mages it is."

Teague nodded and shrugged.

After silently watching the sky and sea for what seemed like a long time to Teague but was really much less than half an hour, they walked back down together, still in silence. They were both pensive, and Teague was grateful for the companionable quiet. He was trying to work through his confusing mix of worry and resentment that he could not pin to any specific plausible cause. Kjeld's part in fighting back the occurence had been impressive, admirable, even overwhelmingly awe-inspiring. Had he seen him directly afterwards he might have gaped and gushed and showered him with the well deserved praise he had probably received from everyone else as well.

But Magister Borna putting him back in his accustomed place had contrasted it all too well.

And Kjeld's magnificent achievement had made it so obvious that he did not belong here. Kjeld would leave soon. He would have left eventually, anyway, but now it would probably be even sooner.

"I believe this is where I leave you," said Kjeld.

Teague looked up. His wide-eyed gaze flicked between Kjeld's calm face and the pockmarked oak door they had reached. "Unless you want to leave the rest of your work for tomorrow. Or I -"

"No, it's alright. Thank you. I mean... I have to finish this tonight. I didn't get through all of – It can't wait..."

"I could join you. I mean, do you want some company?" Kjeld shrugged.

Yes. But it would be so distressingly confusing.

"No," Teague said softly, and immediately felt sorry. He could not tell if Kjeld actually looked hurt or taken aback. There was just a very small, momentary seriousness around his eyes that was not usually there. Kjeld nodded and smiled again. He reached past Teague and pushed the door open for him.

"Don't wear yourself out," he said seriously and started to turn away.

"You're one to talk. What you did – I mean... that was amazing. Amazing to watch." Too little, too late, mate. He deserves gushing.

Kjeld smirked.

Bent over his blood vials and rune sheet again, Teague realised belatedly that Kjeld had known exactly where he had been before the attack, and what he had been doing. That he had led him back to the laboratory without asking, a far way off from the tower they both lived in, where Kjeld should no doubt have been headed instead.