Chapter Twenty: Drakosia

  Until this point, Ash had felt like the creature before them, Sally of the Water, had been within what he considered normal limits. In other words, he didn't feel like it required magic to win. They had fought kobolds before, handled traps in dungeons, and even endured Torin Silverblood's arrogance. All of these challenges had been difficult but surmountable with skill, preparation, and a bit of luck.

  That feeling changed the moment Sally moved to attack. She was a blur of white and silver, her ethereal form shifting and undulating like wisps of moonlight caught in a violent storm. The night maiden's movements were too quick for his human eyes to properly track, her spectral claws leaving trails of cold light in the air. In that terrible instant, Ash knew with bone-deep certainty that he wasn't fast enough to defend himself or his friends.

  A cold sweat broke out across his skin as he watched the wraith surge forward, her ghostly features twisted with centuries of rage and sorrow. The weight of his uselessness settled on his shoulders like a physical burden. Without elar, he was little more than a liability in this fight, a fact that burned in his chest like acid.

  Nick Al'Smith could do what Ash could not.

  His dwarven friend moved with surprising agility for his stocky frame, positioning himself directly in the wraith's path. The shield strapped to his arm began to swirl with glowing script, the ancient runes flaring to life as they detected the approaching threat. With a sound like thunder, the shield detonated with white power, creating a barrier of pure energy that repelled the night maiden's attack.

  Sally hissed, the sound reminiscent of steam escaping a kettle, as she was thrown backward by the shield's magic. Her form wavered momentarily, becoming translucent before solidifying again. She lashed out with her claws, the attack carrying tremendous force that would have torn through ordinary armor like paper, but once again, the scripts on Nick's shield lit up in response, creating a web of protective energy that the wraith's attacks could not penetrate.

  "Stay back!" Nick shouted, his voice strained with effort as he maintained his defensive stance. Sweat beaded on his forehead, running down into his thick beard as he poured more of his elar into the shield.

  Rosalia made expert use of Nick's tanking, her lithe form darting around the edge of the battlefield with fluid grace. Her sword struck forth like a viper's poisonous bite, quick and deadly in its precision. Ash knew she was using elar because she was moving far faster than any normal person could, her form nearly a blur of red hair and flashing steel. He could barely follow her movements, let alone match them.

  Each successful strike from Rosalia cut away more of the wraith's substance, like scissors through fine cloth. Ethereal wisps of the night maiden's form drifted away, dispersing into the night air with a soft, keening sound that raised the hairs on the back of Ash's neck.

  Will was still out cold, sprawled on the sand where he had fallen earlier, completely oblivious to the life-and-death struggle happening mere feet away. Ash desperately wanted to help, to contribute something, anything to the fight, but they were all moving at speeds he simply couldn't match. His mundane human reflexes seemed laughably inadequate against the elar-enhanced abilities of his friends and the supernatural power of their foe.

  He gritted his teeth until his jaw ached, his fingers squeezing the handle of his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Frustration and helplessness churned within him, a toxic mixture that threatened to overwhelm his thoughts. The cold that always lingered in his veins intensified, as if responding to his emotional state.

  Sally's claws were moving so fast in her attempts to break through Nick's defense that all Ash could perceive were bursts of silver and white light, like miniature lightning strikes in the darkness. Nick's shield continued to hold against the onslaught, the scripts glowing brighter with each impact, but the strain was showing on the dwarf's face. His arms trembled slightly, and his stance had begun to falter.

  The wraith was growing more erratic in her movements, her form flickering and shifting unpredictably every time Rosalia tried to attack her. It was becoming increasingly difficult for the half-elf to land a clean hit, her blade passing harmlessly through empty air more often than not as Sally's form dispersed and reformed in the blink of an eye.

  A frustrated growl escaped Rosalia's lips as another attack missed its mark. The momentary distraction was all Sally needed. With a sudden change in tactics, the wraith feinted to one side before swooping around to attack from an unexpected angle.

  Nick's reflexes were a fraction too slow. His friend cried out in pain as ghostly claws slipped past his shield, slashing deeply into his forearm. The force of the impact threw him backward, and blood splashed to the ground below in a crimson arc that gleamed wetly in the moonlight.

  Nick dropped his hammer with a dull thud, stumbling away as he pressed his teeth together to suppress another cry of pain. He clutched his wounded arm against his chest, blood seeping between his fingers and staining his sleeve a dark red.

  Ash was about to rush forward with a healing potion, heart pounding with urgency, when Sally whirled around with supernatural speed, her attention now fixed on Rosalia. The half-elven girl tried to back away, but she wasn't quick enough. The wraith's claws cut across Rosalia's chest in a vicious swipe that tore through fabric and flesh alike.

  Rosalia jerked backward from the impact, but the wraith's claws still found their mark, slicing open her skin with terrifying ease. Blood splattered into the open air, droplets catching the moonlight like crimson rain falling from clouds. The sight of it made Ash's stomach lurch with horror.

  Rosalia's scream of pain pierced the night, raw and primal. Her eyes clenched shut, face contorting in agony as she collapsed to the ground. The sword slipped from her nerveless fingers, landing in the sand beside her with a soft thud as she curled around her wounds, blood soaking rapidly through her torn clothing.

  Time seemed to slow down as Sally loomed over Rosalia's fallen form, translucent claws raised for a killing blow. The wraith's face was a mask of cold hatred, centuries of pain and rage concentrated into this one moment of vengeance against the living. In another second, Rosalia would be dead, her life extinguished by a creature born of tragedy and betrayal.

  There was very little Ash could do about it. His legs felt leaden, his body impossibly slow compared to the elar-enhanced speed of his friends and the supernatural quickness of the night maiden. They were moving too fast for him to intervene effectively.

  Yet Ash had to try. He couldn't just stand by and watch Rosalia die without making any kind of effort to save her. The thought of losing her, of watching another person he cared about die while he did nothing, was unbearable. Cold determination flooded through him, sharpening his focus to a razor's edge.

  Ash was already lifting his sword, the weight of it familiar and reassuring in his hand. With a grunt of effort, he cocked his arm back and threw the blade as hard as he could, putting every ounce of strength he possessed into the throw. The sword spun through the air, blade over hilt, a flicker of steel in the darkness.

  Even with his quick action, he wasn't fast enough to prevent Sally from landing another blow on Rosalia. The wraith's sharp claws tore into the half-elf's flesh once more, drawing another cry of pain from her lips. But at that exact moment, Ash's thrown sword reached its target, piercing through the night maiden's insubstantial back.

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  It was an awkward throw, without the precision or power that elar might have granted it. The blade penetrated the wraith's form and then fell to the sand below, unable to maintain its trajectory through the creature's ethereal substance.

  But it was enough to disrupt the night maiden's concentration, enough to break whatever bonds held her spectral form together in this world.

  Sally of the Water howled, a sound of mingled rage and release that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Her form rippled like water disturbed by a stone, wavering and distorting as the wraith oil on Ash's blade did its work. Then, with a sound like thunder, she exploded in a detonation of ethereal shards that scattered in all directions before dissolving into nothingness.

  Ash was over at Rosalia's side in an instant, his heart hammering against his ribs as he knelt beside her. Her breaths were coming in short, labored bursts, blood spurting from her wounds with each desperate inhale. Her skin had taken on an alarming pallor, and her eyelids fluttered weakly as she struggled to remain conscious.

  With shaking hands, Ash fumbled at his belt for the healing potion he had prepared. The glass vial was cool against his palm as he uncorked it, the faint herbal scent of the liquid briefly cutting through the metallic smell of blood that hung in the air.

  "Stay with me, Rosalia," he murmured, supporting her head with one hand as he held the vial to her lips. "Drink this. It'll help."

  She swallowed the ruby liquid with difficulty, some of it spilling down her chin to mix with the blood already staining her clothes. For a moment, nothing happened, and cold fear gripped Ash's heart. Had he made the potion incorrectly? Was it too late?

  Then, with a soft glow that illuminated her wounds from within, the healing began. Ash let out a shaky sigh of relief as he watched the torn flesh knit itself back together, the edges of the wounds drawing closer until they sealed completely, leaving nothing but healthy skin where moments before there had been bloody gashes. The color returned to her face gradually, the deathly pallor giving way to her normal warm complexion.

  Nick fell to his knees beside Ash, his own wound momentarily forgotten in his concern for their friend. Blood dripped slowly from his injured arm onto the sand, creating small dark patches that were quickly absorbed by the thirsty ground.

  "Light! Oh Light, she's okay!" the dwarf exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion that was unusual for the normally gruff young man.

  Ash nodded, the tight knot of fear in his chest finally beginning to unravel. "Another couple of seconds, and she wouldn't have been." He glanced at Nick's arm, regret washing over him as he realized the extent of the dwarf's injury. "I'm sorry, Nick, I don't have another potion for your arm..."

  Nick shook his head dismissively, though pain still tightened the corners of his eyes. "Forget about it. I've had worse cuts on the farm." He looked back at Rosalia, relief evident in his face. "Light, I'm just happy she's healed."

  "You have defeated the night maiden," Amalia's matter-of-fact voice stated from behind them, cutting through the emotional aftermath of the battle like a cold wind.

  Ash hadn't even noticed her approach, so focused had he been on Rosalia's recovery. He turned to see the violet-eyed woman standing a few paces away, her expression as impassive as ever, her white staff planted firmly in the sand beside her.

  "Hey, what did I miss?" Will's shaky voice drew their attention. The archer was sitting up now, one hand pressed to his head where the night maiden had struck him earlier. One eye was closed in a wince, the other squinting as he tried to make sense of the scene before him.

  "There were several things you could have done better," Amalia continued, ignoring Will's question entirely, "but I suppose you performed adequately."

  Ash was about to deliver a sharp retort, the words rising to his lips like bile. After everything they had just endured, after almost losing two of their friends, all she could offer was this tepid acknowledgment of their efforts? No praise, no relief that they had survived, just a cold assessment that found them wanting?

  Before he could speak, however, Rosalia's eyes fluttered open, distracting him from his anger. Her skin was still pale from blood loss, but she managed to lean up slightly, a soft groan escaping her lips as she tested her newly healed body.

  "Master Lorcan," Amalia said, turning her attention to Ash, "go and collect our fee. I shall take everyone else back to the inn. We have more to discuss." Her tone brooked no argument, as usual.

  Ash took a deep breath, standing up slowly. The familiar frustration with Amalia's attitude bubbled within him, but he found it harder to sustain than usual. Not because what she was doing wasn't worthy of scorn, but rather because he was growing accustomed to her perpetual aloofness. It was simply who she was, as unchanging and immovable as the mountains themselves.

  "Are you all right, Rosalia?" he asked, his concern for his friend overriding his irritation with Amalia for the moment.

  Rosalia nodded, attempting to stand up. She stumbled slightly as her legs threatened to give way beneath her, but Nick was there in an instant, his strong arms steadying her despite his own injury.

  "I got you, slow and steady, now," the dwarf murmured, supporting her with surprising gentleness.

  Rosalia smiled at him gratefully, her usual vibrant energy subdued but returning. Ash made sure she was walking steadily before turning to leave, his mind already shifting to the practical matter of collecting their payment for a job that had nearly cost them everything.

  Eight silver pieces richer, Ash didn't feel like it had been worth it. The weight of the coins in his pouch should have brought him satisfaction, and on some level, it did. This was the most money he had ever possessed at one time, a tangible reward for their efforts and risks.

  But two of his friends had nearly lost their lives tonight. The memory of Rosalia's blood soaking into the sand, of Nick's pained expression as the wraith's claws tore into his arm, overshadowed any pleasure he might have felt at their financial success.

  He was starting to think he should charge more if he did this again. The risks they had taken, the danger they had faced, surely warranted more than a handful of silver pieces. On the other hand, there was an even deeper contentment knowing that no one else would die as a result of their actions. Sally of the Water had been laid to rest, her curse broken, and the shores of Brilehaven would be safe again.

  The contradictory emotions churned within him as he walked back to the inn, his footsteps heavy with fatigue and lingering tension. The night air was cool against his skin, carrying the salt scent of the nearby ocean, but he barely noticed it, lost in his own thoughts.

  He rubbed his face tiredly, then grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling tightly as ice flooded his veins. The familiar cold that was always present inside him intensified with his emotions, a reflection of his inner turmoil.

  He was weak. The realization cut through him like a blade of ice, sharp and merciless. With no elar, he would always be behind, always weak compared to his friends, always the one who contributed least to any fight against supernatural threats. Even if he vowed to get stronger, trained harder than anyone else, it wouldn't matter. His determination, his feelings, they meant nothing in the face of reality. He could never match anything that had magic.

  The evidence had been clear tonight. Nick with his scripted shield, Rosalia with her elar-enhanced speed, even Will, who hadn't participated in the fight, had shown himself capable of techniques that Ash could only dream of. Meanwhile, all he had managed was a desperate, lucky throw that had happened to hit at the right moment.

  Maybe potions could help him bridge the gap, but that was something external, outside of himself. It wasn't his power, but something borrowed, something that could be taken away as easily as it was given.

  He didn't view that as true strength. True strength came from within, was an integral part of oneself, not a crutch to be leaned on.

  Despite these feelings, he knew he would go that route if needed. Pride was a luxury he couldn't afford if he wanted to protect his friends and discover the truth about his past. Or he could focus on what Amalia had told him, find everything out about dragons that he could. Perhaps there lay the key to accessing the elar that seemed to be locked within him.

  When he reached the inn, he found everyone gathered in one of the rooms they had rented. Nick and Will sat on one of the beds, the dwarf's arm now properly bandaged. Rosalia reclined in a chair by the window, her color much improved though she still looked tired. Amalia stood by the table, turning as Ash entered the room.

  "You've returned. Good. We have next steps to discuss," she said without preamble, her violet eyes unreadable as always.

  The violet-eyed woman stepped forward, addressing them all with the same calm authority she always displayed. "Tomorrow we will be parting ways. Masters Al'Smith, Al'Seen, and Miss Va'Sear will be going onward to Wyrmhaven academy. I have already purchased you passage on a carriage headed that way. Master Lorcan will be coming with me."

  Ash looked up sharply, surprise momentarily overriding his fatigue. "Why? What?" The question burst from him before he could consider it, his mind struggling to process this unexpected development.

  Amalia held up a hand, her eyes closing briefly before she opened them again, her expression unchanged. "I know you have many questions. Suffice it to say that this is necessary. You handled the night maiden, so I am confident in your abilities to handle anything from here to Wyrmhaven. You could argue, but you will end up giving in, because as it has been since the start of our journey, I hold all of the cards."

  Her blunt assessment of the power dynamic between them stung, but Ash couldn't deny its truth. From the beginning, Amalia had dictated the terms of their relationship, doling out information and assistance as she saw fit, always holding something back, always maintaining the upper hand.

  Nick, Rosalia, and Will shared a look, a silent communication passing between them that spoke of resignation and acceptance.

  Will was the first to break the silence, shrugging his shoulders with feigned nonchalance. "As long as I get my beauty sleep, I can't complain. As she said, we don't have a choice." His attempt at humor fell flat, his usual lighthearted tone unable to mask the uncertainty in his eyes.

  Nick grunted, his thick fingers drumming against his bandaged arm. "We were headed there anyway. But we still have two months before the entrance exam. It will take us two weeks to get there. What do we do?" The practical question reflected the dwarf's straightforward nature, always looking for the clearest path forward.

  "I suggest you keep up with your training, otherwise your time is your own," Amalia replied. "I will give you the silver earned from the hunt, and a little more besides. You should have everything you need before we return." She moved toward the door, her black robes swirling around her ankles like liquid shadow. "Now then, I bid you good night. We leave in the morning, Master Lorcan. I suggest you be ready."

  "Wait!" Ash called out, unsatisfied with her vague explanations. "Where are we going?"

  Amalia paused at the threshold, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her violet eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the room, ancient and knowing.

  "Drakosia," was her answer, the single word hanging in the air like a promise or a threat, before she slipped out of the room, leaving them with more questions than answers.

  The name echoed in Ash's mind, stirring something deep within him. Drakosia, the ruined city of the dragon lords, burned to ash sixteen years ago for reasons no one seemed to know. What could possibly await them there? And why did hearing the name fill him with such strange anticipation, as if some part of him had been waiting for this all along?