Fifteen took a good, long look around. She carefully surveyed her surroundings, her gaze slowly scanning from left to right and back again. A skilled adventurer, she did not rely on her eyesight alone. She sniffed at the air, listened to the winds, felt the ground under her feet, and did not lick anything because that would be weird. She sucked in every reasonable piece of sensory information at her disposal, wrung it through her learned mind and trained wit, only to arrive at the most obvious conclusion.
She could not see crap.
The sorceress knew there would be snow, but she expected it to be on the ground, not flying into her face with speed rivaling that of Azyra trying to escape the consequences of her actions. The world was so utterly white that she wasn’t even sure where she came from, let alone where she was going. Bahm wasn’t much help, either. This was the first time either of them had encountered such bizarre weather. It was difficult to classify this phenomenon. One might call it a blizzard, but there wasn’t any actual snowfall. The frozen particles flying around were simply fresh powder getting flung to and fro by horrendous winds. It was a good thing Fifteen coated that insulating oil extra thick, otherwise she’d be shivering like a leaf right now. She still couldn’t feel her hands or foot since those wraps weren’t made of sunsilk and didn’t hold the alchemical mixture as effectively.
Well, standing around like a soon-to-be ice sculpture wasn’t going to achieve anything, so the fire mage decided it was time for a spell or two. Usually this would achieve little as any conjured flame would just vanish like a fart in a storm. However, this was no ordinary wind. The snow blocking her vision was laced with faint traces of wild magic. Or so Bahm claimed. She couldn’t tell, but trusted the saber-tooth’s senses. They were much sharper than hers, including his ability to perceive mystical energies. In which case this whiteout was not a natural phenomenon but a magical obstacle requiring a magical solution.
“Ignum adcurata perpeta quatris.”
Holding a staff in one hand and her trusty knife in the other, Fifteen imbued the blade with supernatural heat. It shone red-hot just as the tip of her spell focus cracked and broke in two along its length. Discarding the spent stick, she held the blazing edge out in front as if to defend herself against an assailant and instructed Bahm to get behind her. She carefully retrieved another staff from the sling on her back and casted another, far less strenuous spell that hopefully wouldn’t break the new focus. Indeed, the wood in her grasp shuddered for a moment, but remained firmly intact as she spoke the words of power.
“Ignum expulso trionis.”
All the concentrated energy she had packed into that tiny strip of metal suddenly exploded outward, turning the superheated knife into a blazing greatsword almost as long as she was tall. It extended even further outward as she gave it a swift slash and cleaved straight through the damnable whiteout barring her path and vision. She could see the mountain peaks and blue sky through that narrow gap in the freezing veil. It began to close up like a curtain, but she didn’t let it. Swinging her imbued weapon two more times saw the infuriating snow physically pull back as if the swirling wind was a living entity. The fourth swing was the one that finally revealed the culprits behind this ‘prank.’ Countless shimmering white lights, barely visible amidst the frozen landscape, fled in every direction like neurotic fireflies. They started vanishing into thin air just as the weather returned to what it was five minutes ago – sunny with a stiff breeze. A few of the troublemakers were a bit slow to make themselves scarce, and Fifteen did not miss that chance.
“Bahm. Fetch.”
It was more of an instruction than a command, though the saber-tooth did not hesitate either way. He lunged forward with speed and grace unbefitting his massive stature, and within seconds had one of the little shits pinned under his paw against a boulder. The sorceress approached steadily, some modicum of feeling returning to her limbs. When she got close enough, she saw a tiny creature no bigger than her palm. It was a magical creature that most humans would see as a beautiful, tiny girl with colorful wings akin to a butterfly. As someone who knew its true nature, however, Fifteen wasn’t fooled by the illusion. She saw the snow sprite for what it truly was – a white-coated, four-legged, two-armed, fat-tailed bug-thing that was much closer to a dragonfly than a person. The pest looked as if it was trying to escape, so the wizard mentally requested that her familiar put the squeeze on it a bit.
“Ow, ow, ow!” it squeaked under the paw. “Okay! You got me! I give, I give!”
It was a shrill, high-pitched voice, like a grown man trying to sound like a little kid. An ignorant traveler might hear a beautiful and melodious tone, but this too was part of the illusion. At least the little bastard was smart enough to know when he was beaten and surrendered. This made this next part easier.
“Show me where the lodge is.”
It was more of an order than a request, and the snow fairy had no choice but to comply. It and its buddies challenged the passing wizard to a game and lost resoundingly, so they now had to abide by the victor’s demands. It was almost like a contract, aside from the part where Fifteen and Bahm were included without their consent. The lesser fey-folk loved to pull stunts like that, dragging people into ‘games’ that could leave them injured, maimed, or even dead. They typically did that out of boredom rather than malice, which was hardly an acceptable excuse. The upside of their flippant nature was that they deemed most humans too dull and mundane to ‘play’ with.
Unfortunately for Fifteen, she was their type – a feyblood. As the name suggested, wizards like her derived their power from the fey influence in their bloodline. In her case some ancestor had intimate relations with an elf and, three-to-six generations later, here she was. Or so the apothecaries’ tests said. It was impossible to be certain since she never knew her parents, let alone her ancestry. Not that any of that really mattered at this point. One way or another, things like sprites and fairies always caused her trouble, and she did not hesitate to get some payback afterwards.
“Lodge? Lodge!” the pinned bug-thing said. “Yeah, I got it! I’ll take you, so call off the brute!”
A physical and mental nod was all Bahm needed to release his prisoner. Now freed, the sprite fluttered up to Fifteen’s face and bowed deeply. She had to admit, even without an illusion and despite its insectoid appearance, it wasn’t hideous to look at. The way its pearly skin glistened in the sun was quite pretty, if nothing else.
“Name’s Bud,” it introduced itself. “And you are?”
Rather than answer with words, the sorceress raised her still-flaming blade in a distinctly un–friendly manner. Her spell still had enough power in it for a few more swings and she wouldn’t hesitate to fry this bug if it gave her any more lip.
“Busy! You’re busy!” Bud flailed its limbs in a panic. “Right! No time for chit-chat! Let’s go!”
Finally getting the message, the little shit buzzed away and the two visitors followed. Truth be told, this was somewhat of a lucky break. Before being trapped in that whiteout, Fifteen had a general idea of where she was headed and what she was looking for, but didn’t have exact directions. She expected she’d have to spend some time finding the place, and now she didn’t have to. However, she wasn’t exactly thankful for this turn of events. Time was something she had a fair bit of, but her inner fire was a limited resource. The spells she used to disperse the whiteout were also spells she couldn’t throw at the steam elementals. She judged she still had enough fuel in the tank to get the job done and then some, but would’ve preferred to have more in case of an emergency. She’d be able to recharge a bit of it with a bit of rest and some ashplume tea, but there was only so much power she could squeeze out each day.
Getting there proved fairly simple in and of itself. With a few motivational growls from Bahm, Bud was able to guide Fifteen to her destination in about twenty minutes, then made itself scarce. The lodge was much as the bounty details described it – an enormous three-story wooden cabin that could easily be called a mansion. Sounds of movement could be heard from inside and smoke billowed out the chimney, so someone was definitely home. Fifteen briskly walked up the stairs leading to the building’s main entrance with Bahm close behind. Normally the saber-tooth would steer away from civilized areas, but he too needed a place to warm up. The mage hoped the locals wouldn’t raise a fuss, though she honestly had no idea what kind of reception she’d get in this remote area, so she decided to keep an open mind as she knocked on that massive door.
When someone eventually showed up to answer, she found herself staring up at someone for the first time in a long while. Southlanders like Fifteen were a fair bit taller on average compared to the midlanders around Cherrytown, so she was used to dealing with people shorter than or matching her height. The absolute unit that opened the door was clearly a northlander, however. A full head taller than her, skin as white and rough as granite, built like an ox and just as hairy. His bushy brown beard obscured much of his face and the entirety of his neck, yet that wild look did little to obscure his strangely calming and friendly disposition. Fifteen had never met northlanders before, but in hindsight it should have been obvious she’d find one here. Who else could stand living in this perpetual cold out here in the middle of nowhere? The fact that various aspects of the lodge – steps, doors, windows – seemed a bit too large for even her stature should’ve been another hint.
Regardless, she figured gawking at each other in the cold wasn’t going to get her anywhere, so she offered her usual greeting. She tucked her hands in her sleeves and bowed. The big man must’ve understood the gesture seeing as he smiled broadly behind his bushy beard and spread his arms out in a welcoming manner. He then lunged forward. The movement caught Fifteen completely by surprise so she could not react in time and was snatched up. The guy held her tight against his fur coat as he swung her around like an uncle who was just reunited with a beloved niece.
“Hah-ha!” he laughed merrily. “Hello, little one! Come in, get some breakfast! Brog just made soup!”
His beady-eyed gaze then turned to Bahm, who was not quite sure if his companion was being attacked or not. The swinging bear hug looked rather violent, yet he sensed no aggression or malicious intent, nor was the woman in any pain. She felt profoundly uncomfortable and her limbs flailed and fidgeted, but she wasn’t hurt.
“Ohh! You have a friend! It’s okay! Big kitty can come too!”
And thus, before even a saber-tooth could react, it was snatched up and given similar treatment. Bahm was a proud apex and therefore far less willing, but a mental nudge from Fifteen informed him it was better for everyone involved if he just let it happen. Northlanders had a notoriously… unorthodox understanding of personal space, and rejecting their hospitality could be seen as a grave insult. Thus, neither guest put up a struggle as the stranger carried them inside. He had one under each arm, causing the floorboards to creak loudly under their combined weight. He walked them straight into a mostly empty dining hall before setting them down at one of the stupidly long benches on one side of the equally massive table in the middle. There was another northlander seated on the other end of the hall. He looked almost identical, albeit without any facial hair and clothed in a sleeveless hempen tunic rather than a coat stitched together from an amalgamation of animal hides. His thick arms didn’t seem all that toned, but if he was anything like the other one, that definitely wasn’t blubber under that craggy skin.
“Brog! We have guests!” the bearded one declared.
“I can see that, lump-head!” the other grumbled. “Sorry about Ogg. He gets a bit excited around new faces. Want some soup?”
He gestured at the giant pot sitting in the roaring fireplace next to him – the source of that smoke Fifteen saw earlier. Looking around, she saw a bunch of dirty bowls and spoons stacked up atop a cupboard in the corner of the room. Assuming that was one set of utensils per resident, this lodge was home to eight more people, though she was fairly certain these two were the only ones present at the moment. Northlanders weren’t exactly quiet, based on what she’d seen so far, and she heard nothing from the other rooms or floors. That aside, the stew smelled far more appetizing than the dry rations Fifteen had for breakfast. She ate those when she woke up at dawn, and it was now quite late in the morning. Noon was still a ways off, but she wouldn’t refuse an early lunch.
“Yes, please,” she spoke in her usual, quiet tone.
“What about your friend there?”
She and Bahm exchanged glances before she looked back to her host.
“Do you have any large bones lying around?”
“Sure do! Comin’ right up!”
Both guests were served a generous bowl each. The lady’s had a hefty serving of soup and the familiar received a cooked leg bone of some kind. Brog was using it for the stock, apparently, so it was thoroughly boiled and far chewier than Bahm was used to. This was deemed favorable since the saber-tooth just wanted something to gnaw on to pass the time. Unfortunately, Fifteen realized she had made a slight oversight in all the excitement. She couldn’t eat this chunky stew with her face-wrap in the way and she didn’t want the scars underneath to freak out the clients. She was self-conscious about them, besides. At the same time, she didn’t want to appear rude and ungrateful by not eating the food she herself asked for. Thankfully, Brog and Ogg were seated to her right, and that side of her face was infinitely more presentable than the left. So, she pulled the white-dyed cloth covering her face just low enough to put the spoon in her mouth and ate quickly. Her hope was that they only saw her unblemished profile and didn’t raise a fuss.
Much to her relief, the big guys focused on finishing their shares and saved the conversations for after. She was thus able to enjoy her bowl of meat and vegetable soup. Exactly what kind of meat and vegetables, she wasn’t sure, but they were edible, hot, and hearty. Meals like this were a good way to recover some of that spent inner fire. She’d still like a cup of ashplume tea, but she could make one later. For the moment, everyone was done eating and her face wraps were returned to their family-friendly position.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“So, who are you anyway, stranger?” Brog finally asked. “Long climb for such a puny thing.”
She quietly fished a small document from her pockets and slid it across the table. Both men bent over and squinted at it, then turned to face each other with puzzled expressions.
“Ogg, what’s that say?”
“Dunno. Can’t read.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Thog can! Want me to go get ‘im?”
“Thog ain’t here, lump-head!”
“What? Why not?”
“He went hunting with the rest.”
“Oh. Yeah. I forgot.”
It took every drop of professional courtesy for Fifteen to not groan at that exchange. While it was true that literacy was rather dodgy in rural areas, it wasn’t usually an issue since such clients had to be able to read and write to contact the guild anyway. Unfortunately, it would seem the brains of this particular operation wasn’t here right now, but she tried not to think too harshly of these lads. Just because they seemed to have brick-like intelligence at first glance didn’t mean that was the case. In any event, since it seemed just giving them the receipt wouldn’t work this time, she would unfortunately have to introduce herself with words.
“They call me the Sage of the Sands. I’m from the mages’ guild in Cherrytown. I’m here to get rid of the steam elementals that appeared recently.”
“Woah! A real sparky-hands?! Go on, then! Do a spell!”
Ogg’s excitement stumped the sorceress yet again. It was so pure, so childlike, that she couldn’t help but be reminded of that fireworks show she put on for farmer Zeke’s birthday. His grandkids had more or less the same reaction, and it was more than a little surreal to see that kind of behavior from a man so big that he probably took dumps bigger than those children.
“I’m sorry,” she shook that intrusive thought away. “My magic is limited, and I need to save it for the elementals.”
Plus, casting fire spells in a wooden lodge was courting disaster.
“Aw. That’s boooring!”
Ogg complained loudly, prompting Brog to lean over and slap Ogg so hard that Fifteen felt the floorboards shake.
“Ow! What’s that for!”
“Magic ain’t for show, lump-head!”
“Says who?!”
“Says Mog! And Mog knows best.”
“Oh. Yeah. I forgot.”
“Anyway,” Brog turned to Fifteen, “you’re here to deal with them smoky boys that took our hot cave, right?”
“I… think so?”
There was little doubt who the ‘smoky boys’ were, but she needed some elaboration on that last bit.
“What’s a hot cave?”
“It’s a cave that gets hot.”
Well, that was incredibly unhelpful.
“I see. Anything else you can tell me about the hot cave?”
“Not really. Drog, Kog, and Pog found it a while back. Wanted our help to dig up so we can get hot water without making a fire. Mog said it’s a dumb idea, but we did it anyway.”
“I like digging,” Ogg chimed in. “Smashing rocks is fun. Hot water, less fun.”
“Yeah. Should’ve listened to Mog.”
“Mog knows best.”
The pair nodded and fell silent, prompting Fifteen to coax the details out of them.
“Why? What happened?”
“Well,” Brog spoke again, “Shog was smashing this really big rock, and when he was done a bunch of hot water burst from the ground. Sprayed him real bad. He was pink in the face for a week.”
“It was funny,” Ogg chuckled a bit.
“What happened after that?” Fifteen questioned.
“Not much,” the beardless cook replied. “Tried bringing the hot water back in buckets. Was ice cold by the time we got here. Bit of a waste, but at least we had a blast digging it up.”
“Yeah. Smashing rocks is fun.”
“You said that already, lump-head.”
“Oh. Yeah. I forgot.”
They clammed up as the topic at hand had slipped their dull minds yet again. The adventurer took a deep breath. Questioning these guys was trying her patience. The urge to just blow up this frigid mountaintop and go home was slowly but surely rising.
“How do the elem– What about the smoky boys?” she pressed them once more.
“Right. Those guys. Not sure where they come from, but they moved into the hot cave awhile back,” Brog explained and Ogg nodded along. “Zog, Gog, and Thog went to clear them out, but couldn’t hit any of them. Made of smoke, y’see. So, we decided to leave them alone since they weren’t going anywhere and we weren’t using the hot cave much anyway. But then, all this weird stuff started happening. Like earthquakes, and avral– avalunch– Ah, shit.”
“Avalanches?” she suggested.
“Yeah, those.”
“Lots of new ice all over, too,” Ogg added something useful, for once. “Snow melts in the day, then freezes at night. Didn’t use to do that, but now it does. Real nasty to walk on. Shog slipped and fell off a cliff.”
“Is he alright?”
“He got lucky,” he smirked behind his beard.
“Landed on his head,” the other one elaborated.
Fifteen felt her stomach sink, and wondered how these two were so nonchalant about their friend falling to his death. At least it seemed to be painless. Not much of a silver lining, but there were worse ways to go. Indeed, given how accident-prone this Shog guy seemed to be, he could indeed be considered lucky to have met a quick end.
“My condolences,” she bowed her head, then quickly returned to the matter at hand. “I think I’ve heard all I need. Can you take me to the hot cave?”
“Sure thing. Just gonna get my coat.”
As Brog stood from the table, Fifteen was made distinctly aware of his massive gut. Though, if her intuition was correct, then that too was more muscle than fat. So far her first impression of northlanders more or less matched what rumors and stereotypes she’d heard. They were good, honest folk, strong as bulls and not all that bright. It was easy to mistake them for gentle giants based on those traits alone, but that would be a mistake if the rest of their reputation was as accurate. They were notoriously clumsy and remarkably violent when provoked. It was said the average northlander could break the skull of any southlander, midlander, or highlander with just their hands, and failing that would pummel them into actual paste with their rock-like fists. It was hard for Fifteen to call such claims exaggerated, having seen and experienced just how strong Ogg was firsthand. Thankfully, they were still very much human, and as such were generally unwilling to engage in hostilities against their fellow man.
Wild animals and monsters, however, were fair game. Any feral creature that dared showed up at the lodge would likely find itself folded in half. That was probably why the local wildlife – that roc from yesterday included – steered clear of this place. Even Bahm was willing to let himself be manhandled despite his ‘proud apex’ mentality. Actually, that guy was certainly enjoying himself with that soup bone, wasn’t he? Come to think of it, it wasn’t hard to imagine these people could tame a wild saber-tooth if they wanted to. Regardless, even these ogre-like fellows couldn’t defeat incorporeal creatures like steam elementals, which was why Fifteen was here. Her magic could either wipe out the creatures’ watery constitution or force their inner fire to detonate, and eliminating one would cause the other to disperse. Indeed, composite elementals were actually easier to deal with than purebred ones, but those were extremely rare these days.
Just in case, she questioned the two northlanders if any of them had encountered creatures of pure water or fire. The answer was a firm no, and she had no reason to doubt it. After all, the reason why the guild was so well-informed about these targets in the first place was because these lads challenged them to a fight. Thankfully they weren’t total idiots and retreated once they realized they couldn’t hurt the smoky boys. The monsters seemed satisfied with just chasing them out of the hot cave and didn’t pursue further, allowing the northlanders to escape with just minor injuries.
The next big question was why those things were even here, but Fifteen already figured that out. Based on what she was told about this recently excavated cave, the sorceress deduced it was more than just a natural hot spring. Most likely it was also a place of power – a font of wild magic not unlike Bahm’s old lair. Elementals frequently occupied such areas to feed on that energy and multiply, and their presence was upsetting the natural balance of the mountain. That was the cause of the recent uptick in quakes, ice formations, and avalanches, yet those were only the start. Unless removed, the elementals’ meddling could drastically alter the surrounding environment and trigger a total collapse of the Armal Mountains’ ecosystem. Beast, human, and fey alike would have to abandon the region in that worst case scenario. The good news was such changes took years to become irreversible, so there was plenty of time to intervene before things spiraled out of control. Though, even if the environment wasn’t altered too drastically, there was no telling how many of those things would be born before the font of magic ran dry. Could be twenty, could be two hundred, but all of them would likely stream down the mountain and destroy everything in their path while searching for their next feeding spot like a swarm of locusts.
Given those disastrous outcomes, there was no doubt that these steam elementals deserved to be exterminated. Though, if Fifteen had the chance, she would extend that courtesy to all elementals. They weren’t creatures native to this world, but otherworldly, spiritual entities. They were drawn into the material plane and given physical form by the ancient elves, who sought only to use them as living weapons of war. It was still largely unknown why and how they multiplied by consuming wild magic. Most of the details surrounding the elementals’ genesis were either lost to time or hidden away by the church, but it was nevertheless widely believed that destroying an elemental returned its soul to where it belonged.
That was why Fifteen was so gung-ho about exterminating these things. Normally she felt a bit conflicted about killing sentient creatures even if they were harmful – dragons excluded – and elementals certainly weren’t mindless. They’ve been observed to be at least as social and intelligent as wolves, and there were even legends of elemental lords that surpassed their summoners in terms of power and knowledge. Unfortunately, it was impossible to communicate or otherwise reason with them as they bore intense hostility towards any creature of flesh and blood. One way or another, they had to go, and the fact that she’d just be evicting them rather than killing them was a small load off of Fifteen’s mind. Fire magic only existed to destroy and opportunities to utilize it without snuffing out lives were rare and precious.
The two northlanders must have felt the flame-flinger’s eagerness as they seemed quite enthusiastic to guide her to the hot springs. The sorceress took this opportunity to discreetly brew some ashplume tea by melting snow in her travel mug. She would’ve preferred to enjoy the hot beverage while bundled up at the lodge, but she had a job to do and her comfort level had no impact on the desert herb’s efficacy. Besides, it was really awkward how giddy Ogg got whenever the subject of magic was brought up, hence her attempts to make and down the tea without either of them noticing. Frankly speaking, it was a little concerning how easy it was to pull that off since they never bothered to look back. On the upside, she managed to recover the rest of her spent inner fire without any uncomfortable social interaction.
After a brisk hour-long walk with the fluffed-up saber-tooth in tow, Fifteen was able to confirm her earlier hypothesis. She was now close enough to sense the magic spewing from the place of power somewhere further ahead. Bahm felt it too and confirmed it was similar to how his old home felt. That meant there were probably more targets than originally anticipated since her information was at least two weeks old. The bounty said there were five greater elementals and approximately twenty lesser ones, and that basis made it easy to estimate how much their numbers had grown since. Though exact mechanics of elemental propagation were unknown, the rate of it was well-documented, and the Sage of the Sands had brushed up on the related formulas before leaving Cherrytown. Running the numbers in her head, she concluded that – barring any anomalous influence – her targets would have increased by one. Two at most. Maybe three, if the northlanders were really slow to deliver their information to the guild.
Speaking of which, it was probably a good time to cut those two loose.
“I can handle it from here,” she told them sternly. “Please return to the lodge.”
The two burly fellows in the fur coats stopped in their tracks, turned around, and looked at her as if she’d just dumped a bucket of mud in their soup pot.
“… What?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Why are you telling us to leave?” Brog replied with a question of his own.
“It is dangerous, and I can find my way from here.”
She could sense the direction the hot springs were in, and retracing her steps back to the lodge would be simple considering all those tracks in the snow and the calm weather.
“But I wanna see the sparkle-fingers!”
Fifteen winced at Ogg’s whining. She hadn’t mentioned it earlier since it caught her off guard, but she really wasn’t a fan of that term. It reminded her too much of Azyra calling her ‘Little Miss Sparkles,’ which she used precisely because she knew it got under the desert-dweller’s skin. Wait. Now that she thought about it, wasn’t the loudmouth a northlander? It would certainly explain a lot, like her impressive physique and exceptional thick-headedness. A quick check-in with Bahm confirmed that her and those two did indeed have an oddly similar scent. Fifteen compartmentalized that information for future use and returned her attention to the excitable lummox.
“I want to use big magic. I can’t use the big magic if you’re near since I don’t want to burn you.”
Drawing upon earlier experiences, she simplified her words as if she were talking to a child. It seemed to get the message across, and Ogg slumped over forward in a mix of disappointment and acceptance. Brog wasn’t as easily convinced, however.
“How big is this magic?”
“From here to there, roughly.”
She pointed at her feet and then a tree stump about thirty paces away.
“So, it’s fine if we’re just farther than that, right?”
“… Is the hot cave that big?”
“It wasn’t, but then we dug it up.”
“Smashing rocks was fun!” Ogg proudly declared.
It would seem she had underestimated the space since they called it a ‘cave.’ If that cavern really was wider than her biggest spell, then she’d need to reconsider her plans. Fire magic excelled at area effect attacks so the number of enemies wasn’t much of a concern so long as they were bunched up. Therefore, the tight confines of an underground tunnel were a favorable environment since it was only natural that the elementals would spread out if given ample room. Oh, well. All that meant was that she might have to use more magic than anticipated to wipe them out, in which case there was a slight chance she might run out of fuel. That being the case, it would be wise to have those northlanders nearby.
“Alright, you can follow me, but only on three conditions. Keep a safe distance, don’t attract attention, and if I call for help, come grab me and run away.”
Based on what they said earlier, these people could shrug off boiling water blasts to the face and also fought the elementals without getting seriously hurt. With toughness like that they could easily cover and carry the wizard out of the danger zone in an emergency even if they were a bit slow.
“Alright!”
“Yeeaaah!”
This seemed to be to their satisfaction, given their enthusiastic cheers. Granted, Bahm was with her and could fulfill a similar purpose, but now he could focus on offense. Regardless, the woman was glad to have all the backup she could get. The old Fifteen might have turned her nose up at the notion that she needed help from a pair of morons, but the events at Ascot Village had humbled her tremendously. The loss of her leg proved she had grown too conceited and the actions of the guy she roped into guiding her around really made that lesson sink in. What was his name again? Tim? Tom? Something like that. Though the name eluded her at the moment, she distinctly remembered his timely aid when she had to hobble her way back to the village.
As Fifteen resumed walking towards the hot spring, she realized that having an escape plan that relied on someone else had another benefit besides peace of mind.
If she didn’t need to conserve her energy for a retreat, then perhaps she could really cut loose for once.