Chapter 19.4: Seeing Is Believing

When Minkus opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at a darkening sky with Penny standing over him. “Look who it is,” she said, smiling wryly. “The hero’s awake.”

Jinkke suddenly came into view over him as well. “Big Brother, you’re conscious,” she yelped, laying herself across his chest and squeezing him. She snapped back just as quickly. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“Do what?” he asked. His head felt curiously foggy.

Penny snorted, crossing her arms. “Do what? Gods, Biggie, you just blew the hell out of that wurm monster.” She shrugged. “After getting smacked around like a fly on a swatter, that is.”

Flickers of the event congealed in Minkus’ mind. “Oh. Right,” he groaned, pressing out a smile. “The wurm.”

“Yes, the wurm,” Jinkke repeated. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Penny interrupted. “He just saved your snotty, little ass. Twice.” She reached down and took Minkus by the hand, pulling him up out of the snow and assessing him as he got to his feet. “You OK, Biggie? I know you’re a tough son of a dolyak, but you were out for a good while.”

“Out?” It took Minkus a second to process not just her statement, but his own question as well. His head was still spinning unevenly. “How long?”

“Maybe half an hour,” he heard Ventyr say. Minkus turned to see the orange sylvari coming up behind him, stepping lightly across the cleared patch of ground he’d just been laying on. “It’s good to see you on your feet again,” Ventyr continued. “You did excellent work, but it’s time we were on our way again. Now we certainly won’t make it to Bouldermouth before nightfall.” He turned to Skixx, who sat atop a small, snow-swept boulder a few yards away. “Your business will have to wait until the morning.”

Skixx looked agitated but shrugged just the same. “That’s fine,” he said. With a quickly cloaked sneer, he seemed to piece his words together as his attention fell on Minkus. “I’m just glad our— associate is up and ambulating again.”

Ventyr patted Minkus on the shoulder as he passed, beginning their course up the hill once more. Each step carved the beginning of a path through the blanket of snow before them. “Let’s be on our way.”

Skixx passed as well, followed closely by Yissa, who ran a finger along the grooved pattern in his shoulderplate. “You are a tough one, you big jungle boar,” she said with a curious smirk, “so tough in fact, I’d venture to postulate that you’re acquainted with guardian magic or some other, similar form. Blinding teleportation, your uncanny self-healing, and the aegis spell that you cast on us all—the sergeant was unmistakeably clear that he was not the originator of that particular wonder, so all indicators point to you. Which, by the way, if you hadn’t performed it, I wouldn’t even be here to marvel at your impressive feat—and more impressive ears.” Her eyes wandered, making Minkus uncomfortable. “What I mean to say is thank you.” She paused, looking only for a moment like she would walk on before she looked back again. “But if you would like to expound on the nature of that specific casting, I am working on a tome that documents the various abilities intrinsic to—“

“Get off him already,” Penny said, rolling her eyes as she shooed the scholar on. “You OK to travel, Biggie?” Penny asked, looking at him more intently than usual again. “You really did take a hell of a bashing.”

“Yes.” Minkus nodded, wrapping an arm around his ribs after taking his first few steps. “It hurts, but only when I walk.” He mustered the bit of a smile he could.

“Well, good,” Penny replied, shaking her head at him, “because we’re not going to be doing any of that for the next however many miles.”

Penny pressed on ahead to follow the others, leaving Minkus last in line with a well carved path before him, which was good. Passing out must have slowed the flow of magic through him, though he could feel it coursing through him again now. Blood rushed to bruises, aching muscles flexed and stretched as tears reattached, and a broken bone or two began knitting back together with each pulse of magic that flushed through him. He’d learned over time to feel what was healing, both in himself and others, but some of these more recent sensations were still new to him. He shrugged, wincing a little as he did; new experiences, he supposed, were bound to come with the first real fights of his life.

He walked on, watching the four friends ahead of him as each one reached the peak of the first small rise and began the shallow descent down the other side, some disappearing over the ridge faster than others. Jinkke, though, was still behind him.

Minkus stopped, looking back over his shoulder. He could just make out the back of her head sticking out of the crater they’d found themselves in not an hour before. “Jinkke?” he called. “Jinkke, we’re going.”

Her head rose, slowly turning in his direction. Absently, she replied, “Yes. Oh, yes. Of course, Big Brother. I’m coming. Just, ah— go on. I’ll catch up.”

They spent the night at a dolyak ranch just outside Bouldermouth Vale. A norn woman named Lyot owned the ranch and was willing to give them shelter, at least after hearing of their experience with the wurm, a story that clearly improved her otherwise inhospitable disposition. As it was, she’d spent years losing dolyaks to a particularly large and ferocious wurm that she’d taken to calling Frostmaw. Once she’d successfully broken one of its fangs, but before she could behead the monster, it had tripped her and retreated back into the earth. Believing the party to have triumphed over the same creature, she spoke of her several encounters with Frostmaw in great detail, pouring them one round of ale after the next and repeatedly demanding that they tell their own story of victory again, from each party-member’s perspective.

Minkus had heard of the norn skill for storytelling and love of glory, but he regretted that this was the first he’d experience it. Penny seemed amused only with the flowing ale, and Jinkke remained distant from virtually all of it, barely even sipping her drink or touching her meal, but Minkus revelled in every bit of this manner of celebrating. When he could, he would have to visit Hoelbrak. If the norn could tell tales that turned a single wurm into a town-gobbling force of nature, there was no telling what other legends they could concoct. And, if a single norn on the outskirts of a town could pour ales so sweet he needed no dessert to follow such a savory roast, he wanted very much to see what they’d serve and pour in their people’s capitol.

Entirely healed by their sunup departure, Minkus dreamed about norn fare from the time the group left Lyot’s ranch until they reached the small village at Bouldermouth an hour or so later. The village was nothing huge. Realistically it was even smaller than Snowblind had been, with no great attraction like the gladiatorial arena to build around. Just a few norn lodges sat atop the tallest of the nearby foothills leading up to the western ridge of the Shiverpeaks. The half-domed, snow covered structures of timber and skins were collected around the small fire pit that seemed to serve as some kind of a village square. From his vantage between a couple of those homes, Minkus could see for miles up and down the valley, far enough to still make out the towering monolith atop the Durmand Priory, and even the bridge that spanned the valley toward it. To think they’d made it so far and seen such places in only a few days.

Satisfied, Minkus exhaled, smiling even wider at the sight of his own frozen breath. How many times had he acknowledged that curious aspect of being in a cold region, and yet it never got old?

“You’re doing your take-in-the-view thing again?” Penny asked. She’d been standing behind him for a minute or so, though he hadn’t recognized it. He responded with a nod, turning to look just far enough over his shoulder that she could see his grin.

“OK, then,” she said. “I’m going to go in with the others, get this damn pack off me, and get some food while Moptop is tending to his all-precious business.” He heard her footsteps start away from him before she paused. “Feel free to join us whenever you’re done with— this.”

His gaze stayed on the glistening, white ravine rolled out before him, a giant swath of earth seemingly scooped from the mountains on either side of it.

“Enjoy your breakfast!” he replied with a floppy nod. Her crunching steps faded off behind him, slowly masked by the sounds of a waking village and ending at the distant screech of door hinges. The shuffling, creaking, calling, clanking, sizzling, and sawing sounds of the village continued to grow, but Minkus lost awareness of them in light of the view.

A few minutes later, he heard footsteps approaching again, though not from the direction Penny had left in. They also weren’t heavy enough to be Penny’s. Or Ventyr’s.

“It’s a lovely view, Big Brother.”

He turned to see Jinkke and smiled shyly. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. Since the previous day’s events, she’d been all but silent, especially with him, and he hadn’t known what to do with that. She had never been talkative per se, but with him she’d also never been like this.

He turned from the view to her. “Are you— alright, Jinkke? I mean, are you—”

“Big Brother, what happened yesterday?” She stared up at him, confounded. Jinkke was never confounded, never. Even when she didn’t have answers yet—it was only ever a yet—she never looked like this, like she’d misinterpreted all the essential facts of the world around her. She must have been very upset with him.

“I know,” Minkus said. His head dropped, but he quickly picked it back up to look her in the eye again. “I— I just meant to keep you safe, keep everybody safe. I know you wanted to protect me, but it’s my job. I promised Ventyr—”

“What?” She interrupted, temporarily even more perplexed. “No, not that. I mean, yes, I was disgruntled by your rash behavior— Alchemy, I was terrified by it, but, no, that is not what I’m talking about. After that. Well, no, in the middle of that. All of it. I don’t— I can’t explain what happened.” She looked at him for answers. She looked at him. For answers.

Minkus blinked, entirely unsure what to say. “Jinkke, I— I don’t understand. What are you asking? And why are you asking— me?”

“I’m asking what happened,” she repeated, “with you, with the wurm, with all of us?” She turned away, gesturing as she spoke, reviewing whatever theories and calculations were flying through her mind. “I’ve been going over the data: every move, every minute, every inch of what happened with that monster, and there’s just no logical— I mean, I can’t— And now you’re up and walking around like nothing happened to you at all. There are still dents in your armor, Big Brother. Dents! I saw you unconscious. It just doesn’t—” She was looking up at him again, not just confused, but fearful, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Minkus felt them appearing in his own eyes as well. He never could keep a dry eye when Jinkke was emotional. “Minkus,” she insisted again, “what happened?”

Silence fell. Minkus genuinely had no words. He still wasn’t even sure he understood what her question was.

Jinkke ducked her head, wiping the tears away before making eye contact again. “The human,” she mumbled, “Arkayd. She said you have magical abilities. I obviously I didn’t believe her. It’s preposterous that you would— I mean, you’re you, Minkus, my big brother. I can’t concoct another explanation, though there has to be one. You don’t have—” The words wouldn’t come to her lips. “Do you?”

Now both of them were confounded. “Didn’t you read my letters?” he asked, almost hurt.

“Of course I did, Big Brother.”

He scratched his head. “I thought I told you about Royston, about learning guardian magic in Kessex. Did I forget to—”

“No,” Jinkke sighed, putting a hand to her forehead, “you didn’t forget. I just didn’t— well, it seemed— I thought you’d been scammed. I thought the human was a charlatan after your money.” She lost eye-contact.

Minkus scowled, surprised. “Scammed? No, Jinkke. Royston was good and honest. He was my friend, and he taught me— well, he taught me magic, magic he said was already in me.” He started playing with his ear. “I’m not the best at it, but I practice, a lot— at least I did before this trip. I guess you just haven’t seen—”

“No,” Jinkke corrected, reaching to pull Minkus’ hand from his ear and keeping his gloved hand in hers. “I have, Big Brother. I’ve seen. Now I have, and I— I’m sorry.”

The two stood, exchanging smiles, and Jinkke swept back a lock of hair. “So,” she said, momentarily avoiding eye contact again, “what sort of things are you capable of? I know nothing of naturally wielded magic, only applied-magics technology. From yesterday’s display—” She exhaled, seeming to collect herself. “From yesterday’s display, it appears you have some transmaterialization abilities?” She ran a hand through her hair, clearly still overwhelmed.

“I do,” he said, suddenly feeling sheepish. “When I need to, I can blink myself from one place to another— and apparently I can do it to others too. I didn’t know that— not until you—”

“Yes,” Jinkke cut in, lowering her eyes, “until I— I know. I’m sorry for that too. It seems entirely likely that my added momentum threw off your placement— or something.”

The two stood silently for a moment again. This was still awkward.

“So, what else?” Jinkke asked, perking up. A thought had obviously struck her that was more urgent than her embarrassment. “How did you stop the boulder, Big Brother? Accepting these new magical talents as fact, I can only assume you were responsible for that magical barrier against the grawl. Whatever you cast on us yesterday, though,  was not the same thing. Not only was it invisible, it seemed to be— yes, it must have been around each of us individually.” Her lips pursed as she pondered aloud. “It had to be; it’s the only way to explain the behavior of the boulder as it and its remaining particulates struck each of us. When it hit me, I felt only a wave of energy ripple past. And the boulder itself— my ears, Minkus, it burst in two! It shattered once and again, on each of us, as though—“ Her eyes lit up. “As though the barriers were returning the force of the object back on itself. Ingenious, Big Brother. That’s ingenious!”

Minkus couldn’t help but grin. She was herself, and he felt more himself beside her than ever before, even more than when they were progeny. “I don’t know, Jinkke,” he said through his grin. “I don’t really think about—”

“Except,” she went on, suddenly turning from her thoughts to him, “why didn’t you put one around yourself, Big Brother?” She got quiet. “When the wurm hit you, you clearly weren’t protected. You just—” Jinkke winced, suddenly wrapping her arms around him. “You were beaten out of consciousness, Big Brother. Why didn’t you shield yourself the same way you shielded us?”

She held him, and he let his arms wrap around her as he gazed off at the snow-covered village, frowning. He really didn’t know why he hadn’t been shielded.

“Actually, Jinkke, I’ve been thinking about that, and I don’t know.” He squeezed her a little tighter. “There are still so many things I don’t know about what I can do or why. Sometimes— well, sometimes I just feel things and something happens because of it.”

His sister pushed back a little, looking up at him quizzically. “What do you mean you ‘just feel things and something happens’? You control the magical output, don’t you? Isn’t that how magic works for— people like you?”

“Well, no. And yes.” Minkus shrugged apologetically.

“Expound, Minkus. You’re making painfully little sense.”

The script he’d received from Royston came back to him again, just as it had many days prior in that wagon with Ventyr. “The role of the guardian is to surrender to greater magics: compassion, love, kindness, justice. They exist before the guardian, outside the guardian, and after the guardian.”

Jinkke blinked, staring at him for a moment. “And you’re positive this Royston wasn’t a conman?”

Minkus stammered, taken aback by the question until Jinkker eached for his arm and smiled at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Big Brother. Go on.” He grinned awkwardly, recognizing the joke.

“Those things, they’re the deepest of magics, Royston said, and they— well they sort of flow through me.” He shrugged as the words of the script gave way to his own sort of interpretation. “Sometimes I get to have a say in how or when the magic comes out, but other times— well, other times I don’t. I just sort of feel compassion or resolve rush into me. And then— well, then it comes spilling out in some way that helps the people around me.” He shrugged again. He wanted to reach for his ear, but he was acutely aware that she’d stop him if he did.

“There are some ways, “ he went on after a moment, “that the magic is always flowing through me, like my healing. I—”

“Your what?” Jinkke interjected, craning her neck slightly. Minkus took a step back.

“My healing,” he repeated with a slight hesitancy. “I’m sort of healing myself all the time. It’s why—“

“Why you have such a high degree of physical endurance.” The words spilled out of her seemingly at the same pace the realization hit her. She put a hand to her forehead.

“And when I need to—“

Jinkke’s eyes went wide as the rest of that thought burst out of her as well. “When you need give it to someone else, you can, which is why we’ve had so many second winds while traveling, and why you appear to be more worn out every time it happens!” She suddenly hugged him again, before lunging backward once more. He didn’t think it possible, but her eyes widened further. “You think that’s what happened with this shield— aegis— manifestation. We were in danger and something you naturally possess—“ She paused, looking almos dumbstruck. “Do you possess that ability too, the ability to shield yourself from physical harm?”

Minkus nodded sheepishly. “It’s not as consistent as the healing is,” he admitted, “at least not for me. I mean, I practice it, but— but it comes and goes. I don’t have much control of it. Sometimes things that should injure me just bounce off.”

“And sometimes when people you love are in trouble, you transfer the condition to them at your own cost.” Her eyes locked solidly on his, she said it so soberly that he didn’t anticipate it when she hit him on the arm. “Don’t do that again!” she demanded. “You wonderful, self-sacrificing gift to the ungrateful world around you, I forbid you to ever do that again. Do you hear me?”

Her face was a confusing mix of worry and admiration as she leaned in to wrap him in a hug once more, but he lost view of that expression as he reciprocated the embrace, resting his head on top of his sister’s. “I hear. But—“ He stammered finding the words.

“But you’re going to do it anyway,” she finished.

He nodded, a gesture he knew she felt on top of her head.

He couldn’t see it, but the smile came through in Jinkke’s voice, even as she shook her head in his chest. “Of course you are,” she said. “Of course you are.”