Tom was, to put it bluntly, a bundle of nerves at the moment. There were several contributing factors to this. Between coming face-to-face with King Claw and knowing the air had some kind of poison in it, there was no question he was out of his element. He also wasn’t sure if he could stomach the thought of never seeing the scary wizard lady again, which was seeming rather likely. It was already at least half an hour since she left him behind, yet she was still nowhere to be seen. He’d also seen some disturbingly bright flashes from the direction she walked off to, which he could only assume meant she found something that required her to fling her magic repeatedly. It was all quite frightening for various reasons, though perhaps not the simple man’s most pressing concern.
“Shoo! Go away! I won’t taste good anyway!”
A pack of rabid and starving wolves had shown up and surrounded him while he was worrying about the yellow-robed stranger. Thankfully he managed to grab the sage’s luggage and retreat up the side of a barren tree, but now he was stuck up here with the vicious beasts prowling around underneath. There were six or seven of them at least - far too many for one guy with just a hatchet to handle. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been in this sort of predicament, so he knew he’d be fine so long as he waited it out. However, that could very well take until next morning, and it would be unfortunate if the sorceress came back to fetch her things only to fall victim to these mangy fleabags.
“Go on, then! Get!”
So, with no other reasonable recourse at his disposal, Tom resorted to shouting at the wolves from his perch in an effort to scare them off. It didn’t work very well. If anything it seemed to have the opposite effect as it agitated them even more. The biggest and meanest of the bunch even clawed and bit at the rotting trunk’s base in some desperate attempt to bring it down. It didn’t work, of course. Even if the lumber was decaying, the trunk was so thick that even seasoned lumberjacks would struggle to cut it down. It would take something big to knock it over. An explosion could probably do it, which was unfortunate for Tom, since that was precisely what was about to hit it.
“Ignum expulso dionis.”
A devastating blast of heat rocked the tree’s base, setting fire to everything around it. The wolves circling the trunk only got singed, but nevertheless fled from the terrifying phenomenon. They were sick and hungry, but not suicidal. Meanwhile Tom was left coughing and wheezing like mad. He was rather high up, which put him out of reach of the blast, but his elevated position earned him a face-full of hot air and thick smoke to go along with the ringing in his ears.
“Ignum contra unis.”
Thankfully the next spell snuffed out the flames and cleared the air, allowing the poor bastard to recover much quicker. Once he’d wiped the tears from his stinging eyes, he was surprised yet delighted to see a familiar yellow shape waiting for him at the base of the tree.
“Oh, you’re back! Hold on, I’ll be right down!”
He wasted no time and climbed down as quickly as he could, dropping to the ground as soon as he was low enough to safely do so.
“You know, you had me worried for a… Oh…”
It was only when he had both feet on the soil that he noticed the adventurer could no longer experience that luxury. Between her missing limb and the absolute state of her thoroughly soiled outfit, it was almost as if she’d just been through hell and back. Much of her outfit had been ripped to shreds, to the point where there was almost nothing left of that flowing coat of hers. The chainmail shirt and soggy wool tunic underneath were basically on full display, as was the scarred brown skin on her arms and legs. Her head and face were still wrapped up, though she had to use strips from her torn coat to cover them up. Last but not least, the bundle of staves she carried was reduced to two. Well, one and a half, technically. The intact focus was in her right hand and the shattered one in her left was repurposed as a walking stick.
“Are you… okay?”
Stupid question, but what else could Tom say when confronted with this sight?
“Luggage. Give.”
Not exactly an answer, but her glare was full of fire and her words were as steady as ever, so she didn’t seem like she’d drop dead anytime soon.
“Sure, here.”
The relieved man eagerly handed her bag back, which she instantly opened and took out a spare coat that she hurriedly threw on. It wasn’t the exact same as the old one, but close enough. Next she retrieved a roll of bandages and nimbly wrapped up her exposed limbs. Tom could do little but watch, though he did realize a certain practical problem.
“Hey, lady? Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you gonna be able to make it back to the village like that?”
The terrain they crossed on the way here was not exactly even. Slips and trips were common hazards even for people with two feet.
“I will manage,” she bluntly replied.
“I could… carry you, if you want.”
“I will manage,” she repeated, a bit louder.
“I’m not saying you can’t!” he said defensively. “I’m just saying I’d like to get back before nightfall.”
The sage stifled a groan. That was a valid point. Her guide knew his way around these woods, but even he’d be lost without daylight. That would be the least of their worries if that pack of wolves decided to come back. After sunset was when they really got active, after all, and she’d be unable to fend them off with her magic if they snuck up on her in the darkness. It was embarrassing and somewhat demeaning to be treated like a cripple, even though she was one, but practicality had to come before pride. Still, she doubted Tom would actually manage to get her to town. He was as strong as a rural ruffian could get, but the sage was still taller than him, not to mention heavier than she looked.
“… Lend me a shoulder.”
“Yeah, that works too.”
A compromise was thus reached, and the pair hobbled their way back to civilization. Along the way the sage couldn’t help but notice her guide was being strangely respectful and cooperative. Granted, her people skills were far from the best, especially in this strange land with its foreign customs, but it still struck her as odd. By all accounts she’d treated him rather roughly. First she beat him up, then practically strong-armed him into helping her track down the dragon’s lair. In her mind he had every right to try and get back at her somehow, and she couldn’t fathom what could’ve brought on this change of heart. She was thankful for it nonetheless, though she didn’t say it aloud.
“What in the hell?! Tom! What did you do?!”
“Wasn’t me, Uncle! I swear!”
Unsurprisingly, Ascot village’s mayor had quite a few questions when the guest of honor turned up at the celebratory feast one leg lighter.
“Black dragon ambushed me. I won.”
The woman’s curt answer explained much, yet also very little.
“So, Tom didn’t get you in trouble?”
“No. He helped.”
“Really?” he looked at his nephew, genuinely impressed.
“I didn’t do much. All I did was show her around and guard her things. Saw a lot of crazy shit out there, Uncle. It was bad.”
“How bad?”
“Inner forest’s poisoned or something.”
“That’s why you have that napkin on your face?”
“Oh, right. Almost forgot.”
He quickly took off the improvised mask and handed it back to the sage still hanging off his shoulder. He didn’t know what cloth it was made from, but it was surprisingly light and easy to breathe through. Probably the sort of thing a princess would have, he’d wager.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Anyway, ran into King Claw, too. Stories weren’t lying, that thing was huge! I don’t know what Fifteen did to him, but it just let us pass unharmed! It was amazing!”
That certainly sounded wild, and Mike was keen to believe it, but something Tom said caught his attention.
“Fifteen?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s her name, apparently.”
The man had asked her about it on the way back, and she saw no reason to refuse considering all the invaluable aid he’d given her.
“Is it?”
Mike’s quizzically raised eyebrow was answered with a firm nod. Naturally, Fifteen wasn’t her actual name, but she preferred to be called that way. It was less of a mouthful than ‘Two Hundred and Fifteenth Acolyte of the Order of Ash’ and wasn’t anywhere as suspicious as her first official title, Torch-Bearer of Destruction.
“I see. Well, I was intending to ask you once you made it back. Realized I forgot to do so when I was preparing a toast in your honor. That aside, are you sure you’re alright?”
“Need rest.”
She didn’t actually, but this was a good excuse to avoid attending that feast. No offense to Mike and his fellow villagers, but she’d rather fight a third dragon than sit through an evening-long social gathering with a bunch of strangers.
“I understand. Tom, can you bring her up to my guest room and come back to the square after? The others will want to know what happened.”
“Alright. I mean, I didn’t see much, but if you insist. Actually, want me to bring you some grub after?”
“Pork ribs, potatoes, and water.”
Tom’s question was directed at the wizard, who replied instantly and without hesitation. She could smell them grilling an entire pig all the way out here on the fringes of the village. The nosy people she could do without, but she’d gladly scarf down their food. She found this land’s rural cuisine agreed with her quite a bit, especially once she added her own seasonings. She had to do so sparingly, of course. Desert spices weren’t exactly cheap or easy to find this far north. Her supply of rock salt in particular was running quite low, as was her tea. She’d need more potions, as well. Perhaps it was time to send a letter back home and have them ship her some goodies. She could really do with some honey-preserved dates, now that she thought about it.
These kinds of thoughts continued to swirl around the wizard’s head as she subconsciously avoided the subject of her missing leg. Unfortunately, she could not ignore reality once she was alone in that dark bedroom, with nothing to distract her from the constant pain of her seared stump. Self-immolation was nothing new. Burns were a natural consequence of how her magic manifested and her flesh healed quite rapidly from such injuries, yet her missing limb kept pulsing and keeping her awake. The inability to sleep invited all manner of dark thoughts and creeping doubts regarding her future. Would she have to retire from adventuring even though she barely started two years ago? Would she end up like those hopeless sods that begged in dingy alleyways, surviving off of the sympathy of strangers? Or was this merely karma for ignoring those cripples’ plight and not offering them anything? No, it was the result of her arrogance. What the hell was she thinking, wading into that swamp unprepared like that? A sheltered flame never grew, but at least it would not get snuffed out by a whim of fate.
The sorceress eventually passed out and woke up at noon the next day. The rest left her feeling much better in both body and spirit. Her wound had finally stopped throbbing, and the new dawn brought with it a fresh perspective. Rather than succumb to this injury, she would treat it as another hurdle to overcome. The world was a big place with many forgotten secrets, and she imagined there had to be some form of magic that could regrow her lost limb. Finding it was going to be difficult and time-consuming, but it gave her a clear stepping stone towards her ultimate goal of becoming the most powerful sorcerer in history. Her ambition wasn’t so weak that it would be snuffed out by something as trifling as a missing leg. And if her dangerous path led her to an early grave, then that would mean she was never destined to achieve the greatness she desired.
First things first, though. Acolyte Two-Fifteen changed out her filthy bandages, then hobbled down the stairs to ask Mike the mayor for two simple favors. She wanted to borrow the room for several days while she recuperated, and she needed an urgent letter sent to her guild. She offered to pay for both services, but the man turned her down. He had asked the resident ranger to investigate the pond where she fought the black drake, and he came back with quite the tale. The body of water turned stagnant, several puddles of dried blood, a charred crater full of bones, and no sign of King Claw. All evidence pointed to a massive clash between supernatural powers. Mike could not in good conscience take money from someone who had seemingly gone above and beyond for his village. He agreed to the sage’s requests free of charge, saying it was the least he could do. The thrifty adventurer felt like she could take advantage of this goodwill and negotiate a bonus to her payment, but decided not to push her luck.
Ascot village soon learned that having a resident mage was not exactly as pleasant as one might imagine. Fifteen needed to regularly release her inner fire, both to train her mystic muscles and keep her rampant magical energy from making her sick. Unfortunately for the simple village folk, that meant they had to get used to sporadic conflagrations happening in the air far above their homes. Nobody got hurt and there was no property damage, but the fireworks weren’t exactly a calming factor. It didn’t help that the sage barely showed herself the entire time. She confined herself to that guest room, where she alternated between writing a journal, meditating on past mistakes, and physical training. Thankfully for all parties involved, her temporary residence drew to a close when a delivery arrived for her on the fifth day. It was a brass-plated prosthetic foot that was forged to the exacting specifications she sent back to her guild. It fit perfectly and the spring-loaded ankle functioned fairly intuitively. It would take some getting used to, but at least she could walk without a cane.
So, that was precisely what she did. The Sage of the Sands offered her thanks to the mayor and left Ascot village in the same manner she arrived - quietly and uneventfully aside from a sudden confrontation at that stone bridge. Tom was there along with Dick and Harry, though thankfully none of them seemed willing to give the mugging of the wizard another go. If anything, those bulging backpacks they had made it more likely for them to become the victims of banditry rather than the perpetrators. Fifteen wasn’t sure what this was about, but she tried to just pass them by as if she didn’t notice them standing there like a bunch of constipated shaved bears. Naturally, it wasn’t going to be that easy.
“Heya!” Tom greeted her with a wave. “Had a feeling you’d be leaving today. Hope you don’t mind, but the lads and I thought we’d tag along.”
She definitely minded it for nearly a dozen very good reasons, but figured she might as well hear them out since she wasn’t in any particular hurry.
“Why?”
“Well, truth is, we always wanted to try our luck at the adventurer thing.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dick chimed in. “Exploring the wilds, beating up monsters, all that good stuff.”
“And getting paid,” Harry added. “We don’t exactly got a lot of, uh, marketable skills.”
“Never worked up the nerve to actually do it, though,” Tom confessed. “Not until you came along, at least. I know I barely did anything, but that ‘nature walk’ was incredible. Really opened my eyes, y’know?”
In other words, the sage had inadvertently awakened the idiot’s wanderlust and he wouldn’t shut up about it, so it spread to his like-minded siblings. It wasn’t that uncommon to hear such stories, though they usually didn’t end well. ‘Adventurer’ was really just a nice way of saying ‘hired muscle.’ It was difficult, grueling, dangerous work that didn’t pay nearly well enough to warrant the risks involved. The sage’s shiny new leg cost her more than twice the amount she made on this damn outing, though that was mainly her own fault. Not only for losing the limb in the first place, but also for demanding both quality and expedience from the artisans that made it. Regardless, she was well aware that ‘adventurers’ were nowhere near as glamorous as these idiots seemed to think, but that was none of her concern. Or at least, it shouldn’t be, but it seemed as though they were dead set on involving her in their ill-thought-out plans.
“So, what do you say? Think you can show us the ropes, maybe introduce us?” Tom hopefully asked.
“No.”
An obvious answer that he was clearly prepared for.
“Come on. At least let us watch your back. We know you’re strong as hell, but you’re still human. That shiny leg ain’t gonna work as well as the real thing.”
On that they could agree. The prosthetic was an excellent piece of engineering that allowed her to retain full mobility, but it wasn’t exactly built to withstand the rigors of combat. Mud and sand would make its ankle rust and jam, the straps around her knee could come loose, or she could trip on some uneven terrain that the unfeeling foot couldn’t handle. Even though she typically incinerated any threat before it could come close, recent events demonstrated that was a luxury, not a guarantee. It would be thoroughly unwise for her to continue acting solo, at least until she grew more accustomed to the new leg. However, though Tom raised a valid point, he failed to consider something.
“I already have a companion.”
“… Wait, really?”
She nodded firmly.
“Well… They’re not here right now, are they?”
The sage cocked her head slightly, then pointed behind the trio. Tom, Dick, and Harry turned around to spot something large, furry, and ferocious emerge from the cool shade of the stone bridge. It was a feline beast with golden fur and a pair of long, dagger-like fangs protruding from its upper jaw. It was without a doubt the same horse-sized saber-tooth the pair encountered five days ago, though it looked a bit different. The so-called King Claw was a bit smaller and nowhere near as malnourished as it used to be. The infected cuts it received from the black dragon had already healed without a trace aside from the fur around them turning as dark as charcoal. The most noticeable change, and indeed the only one Tom could identify in his scared-shitless state, was that bright yellow cloth from the sage’s old coat was wrapped loosely around the saber-tooth’s left eye and right foreleg as if to indicate its allegiance. The brothers were even more overwhelmed as this was their first meeting with the local apex predator. All three of them would probably run off screaming if the majestic beast so much as growled at them.
Yet it didn’t even seem to register their presence, its only remaining eye fixated on the sorceress it made a blood pact with. Feeling that she’d gotten her point across, Acolyte Two-Fifteen silently carried on walking, her brass heel clacking against the stone bridge with every alternating step. The saber-tooth patiently waited for her to get near, then turned and walked alongside her down the road. It was only when the reckless sage and her new familiar disappeared from sight around a bend further up ahead that the shocked trio dared to say anything.
“… Hey, Tom?”
“What is it, Dick?”
“I don’t think I want to be an adventurer anymore.”
“Same here,” Harry echoed.
“Yeah… On second thought, let’s go see if Uncle Mike still needs help with that front door.”
“Good idea.”
“I might need to wash my pants first.”
The world was a big place with many terrifying secrets, and none of these fools were ready for it just yet.