38 – What Am I Supposed to Do?

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Jonny didn’t know what to do. Igrette was missing an arm, and had nearly been cut in half, and was now breathing raspily with a greatsword sticking out of her stomach. He could deal with first aid for broken bones and things like that, but what was he supposed to do for this? The only silver lining was that Igrette seemed to be handling things somewhat well on her own. She was barely losing any blood, somehow, and while it looked scary, her heart was still beating steadily, and her breathing wasn’t getting any worse.

“My arm,” she rasped. “Bring– my arm.”

“O– Okay!”

Jonny ran off in the direction of where he thought it had fallen off. The fight had been so fast he barely caught any of it, but he saw that part, at least. He sprinted over to where the arm had been lost, jumping over a narrow crevice opened by Ivan’s sword in the process. With all the snow cleared away, it should have been easy to spot it, but after a few seconds, he started panicking when he didn’t see it.

He could see drops of blood on the ground from the wound, but the arm was nowhere in sight. He looked in cracks and under rubble, but the arm seemed to have disappeared. With his hands on his head, he spun around in a circle, looking for it, and out of the corner of his eye, he finally spotted a finger poking up from the grass.

He found the arm quite far from where it had been severed, and it was not in good condition. It looked like Ivan had kicked it or something while chasing Igrette, and it was bent halfway up the forearm. He fought back the urge to vomit when it flopped around in his hands when he picked it up, then quickly ran back to Igrette.

She didn’t need to give him any instruction for him to line it up next to the stump, pressing the severed pieces of bone together. He retched again when the flesh of her stump seemed to reach out like a leech to grab the broken arm, but seeing that Igrette seemed to be healing, his nerves actually started to calm.

“Helen,” said Igrette. “Get Helen.”

“Right!” said Jonny. “I’ll be right back!”

Jonny turned and ran faster than he ever had, pushing mana into his body so that he could positively fly through the forest back toward the orphanage. Igrette’s wounds had looked basically fatal to him, but in a world with magic like this, maybe it wasn’t. He was pretty sure limbs couldn’t reattach like that back on Earth, at least. And Helen was a good healer, so maybe she would be able to fix Igrette up.

He barely got more than a quarter mile into the woods, however, when an enormous shadow passed overhead. He looked up, to see what it was, then did a double take and tripped over a root.

A horse with wings?!

It was the largest magic beast he had ever seen, other than the massive primaboar that Igrette killed during Tommy’s layer formation, and it seemed to have a radiating presence that made him tremble. He knew that that beast was not something he could hope to fight against.

Wait! Igrette!

He scrambled back to his feet, and started sprinting back the way he came. He was pretty sure horses weren’t carnivores, but magic beasts were weird. Who knew what it would do to an injured, half-dead Igrette. She couldn’t even fight back right now.

A minute later, he came flying back out of the woods and into the ancient amphitheater, and nearly stumbled again when he saw what was inside. The winged horse was there, but it wasn’t a winged horse at all. It was some kind of weird eagle horse thing, with an eagle head, and eagle talons in the front half, a horse rear in the back, and wings the size of a small airplanes folded against its side.

It was not alone either. A figure dressed in what he recognized as Helen’s white abbess robes was kneeling beside Igrette, and there was another man on the other side of the eagle horse who mounted right as Jonny slid to a halt next to them. The man on the eagle horse looked down at him, and Jonny’s heart skipped a beat.

His father looked almost exactly as Jonny remembered him. He had the same thin face and pencil beard as before, but it was now streaked with gray, and his gray hair was starting to recede up his forehead. The piercing golden eyes, though. Those hadn’t changed a bit.

Neither of them moved. Jonny stared at his father, and his father stared back at him. Then, slowly, his father dismounted and approached, kneeling down just a couple feet away. Jonny wasn’t sure what to say, but for better or worse, his father decided to break the silence first.

“Hello,” said the duke. “My name is Archibald, and I am your father.”

Jonny hesitated, then nodded, not sure how else he was supposed to respond.

“But I think you already knew that.” A chill ran down Jonny’s spine as his father continued speaking. “I spoke with Helen on the way here. She asked me a strange question that dredged up some old memories. The day you were born, you were dead. A stillborn. But then you started breathing. It should have been impossible, but it happened anyway. It was a miracle, and that was all I thought of it at the time.

“A few months later, while you were still living with us, one of the maids approached me. She said you were strange. A healthy baby should have cried more, but you rarely did, and she brought up that something about your behavior felt off. She thought you might have been ill, but the doctor said you were healthy, so once again, I didn’t think any more of it.

“Then, on the night we had to send you away, I remember Melinda telling you how much she loved you, and that we would come find you again one day. When I saw her with you, I thought your eyes looked strangely intelligent, like you could understand what she was saying. But parents always think things like that about their children—or so I’m told—so once again, I didn’t think further about it.

“Now, seeing you here… That look in your eyes. You recognized me. You shouldn’t have been able to, but you did anyway. That also shouldn’t have been possible.

“If you were my son.”

The duke’s voice was terrifyingly soft, and Jonny took an involuntary step back.

“But you aren’t my son, are you.” It wasn’t a question. “My son died in Melinda’s womb. You are just wearing his skin.”

“Lord Meyer!” said Helen suddenly, turning to look at them. “You–”

The duke did not move, but a terrifying amount of mana erupted outward from him, forming an invisible barrier around him and Jonny that blocked all sound. The wind died down completely, and the only sound Jonny could hear was the sound of his own heart beating rapidly in his chest.

“Raising a Visionary is supposed to be a great honor,” said the duke. “But I don’t feel very honored right now. Melinda and I tried for years to have a child, and we thought we finally succeeded. I thought that I would never feel as terrible as the day we sent you away, but now here I am.”

Jonny glanced to the side where Helen had stood up, and was pressing her hands against the invisible barrier and shouting something, but whatever she was saying was entirely lost, unable to penetrate the invisible wall.

“Logically, I know it’s not your fault. You never asked to take the place of my child. I can’t even fault you for not telling us. I doubt I would have, in your shoes. And seeing at your face, I can’t even bring myself to hate you, because you look so much like her. But I can’t help but feel a deep, unbearable revulsion at the idea of it all.

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“I am a father without a child. My son died before he had a chance to live, and I didn’t even know. Now, Melinda is past childbearing age. All I have is you… but you are not mine. You aren’t my son, and I’m not your father.”

A tear ran down the duke’s cheek, and he took a deep shaky breath before continuing.

“Visionaries are supposed to bring otherworldly wisdom, right? Well, tell me then, Lord Visionary, what am I supposed to do here? What the hell am I supposed to do? What is a father supposed to do when he finds out his only son isn’t even his? What would your father have done? Your real one. Huh?”

The duke was smiling now, but it was a manic, desperate smile. Helen was still banging on the barrier, but Archibald didn’t even seem to notice. And in the middle of it all, Jonny didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to ask the same things as the duke. What was he supposed to do? He was never good at emotional stuff, but even if he was, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been prepared for anything like this.

“I never had a dad,” he said eventually. “So I dunno what he’d do, and I dunno what you’re supposed to do. I dunno what I’m supposed to do either. This situation is kinda fucked up.”

The duke blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. Then he doubled over in semi-hysterical laughter before leaning back and sitting on the ground.

“Kinda fucked up indeed,” he said. “I don’t know why, but that made me feel at least a little bit better.”

“Uhhhh…” Jonny said, scratching his head. “This is probably kinda weird to say, but I thought you were a pretty good dad. I mean, I was looking forward to seeing what having parents was like until, y’know…”

The duke laughed again. “You’re right, that is weird to say. Did you not have any parents in your first life?”

“My dad left when I was a baby, and then my mom overdosed on drugs when I was two.I just grew up with my grandma.”

“…Damn. Wait, how old are you?”

“Uhhhhh, twenty eight? Wait, no if you count here, then I’m, uh, thirty three.”

“Still fourteen years younger than me, then…” said the duke, thoughtfully.

He stroked his beard, and as he did, Jonny’s attention was suddenly drawn back over to Helen. The abbess had calmed down some from earlier, but she still didn’t look happy about being trapped outside. Even Igrette looked a little annoyed, glancing up from her position on the ground.

Archibald seemed to catch his gaze, following it and seeming slightly surprised that Helen was standing there. He waved his hand, and the mana around them dissipated, and all of a sudden, the wind and sounds of the forest returned.

“Jonny!” said Helen. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“And… Lord Meyer?”