Chapter Twelve: The Stream

“Pulling elar from your elan while in combat is critical. You’ve already felt the euphoria, which is due to elar sharpening your senses, making you a touch faster, slightly stronger.”

They were paired up differently today. Rosalia, standing across from him, looked more competent with the sword than Nick. Her eyes closed, mouth quivering in concentration, as she attempted to draw her elar. Ash tried to do the same, and once again, he could feel and see the elan within him, that orb of winter light.

But he could not touch it.

“You have two obstacles you will have to overcome. First is controlling the euphoria, and second, the enhanced senses that come with it. You won’t be used to them, and it will take some practice.”

None of which I have to worry about, Ash groused to himself.

Rosalia’s eyes snapped open, and her green eyes were filled with naked pleasure. Ash felt his face heat up, and he tightened his grip on the wooden blade, taking a breath.

Then she attacked him, a red blur he couldn’t track.

He crashed into the ground, his ribs reporting that they were not having a pleasant time. He groaned but stood up, retrieving his blade.

“This is so awesome!” Rosalia called out, twirling her blade.

“I’m sure it is,” Ash muttered.

She came at him again, and this time she missed Ash entirely, tripping past him and falling into the dirt herself. An audible crack sounded out, and she clutched at her head.

“Ow.”

“You need to control your speed, miss Va’Sear.”

Rosalia wrinkled her nose,

“It’s all so much. I can smell everything, and it feels like I have lightning in my body.”

“Ha! Finally, I win a bout!” Nick said across from them.

The dwarf had successfully knocked Will down with a blow from his shield. He spun his hammer into the air, catching it with a grin.

“How are you not overwhelmed?” Will asked.

Nick shrugged,

“Maybe actual skill beats pretty-boy looks.”

Will laughed,

“You wish! Alright, again.”

Rosalia stood up, and Ash and she squared off once more.

This time, for the second time, Ash ended up sprawled in the dirt. He pounded a fist into the dirt, ice flowing through his veins.

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“This is impossible! I can’t use magic! I’ll never be an adventurer!”

He got to his feet and threw the wooden practice sword as hard as he could. It slammed against the tree with a loud crack, like splitting wood. He stalked away from the camp, walking into the woods to the nearby stream they had been bathing in.

On the farm, there was always work to be done. All you needed was your two hands and a touch of good sense, and you were useful. It didn’t take much.

He hadn’t needed magic or anything like it to do the job. He remembered when they finished repairing the fence after a storm. It had been a lot of work, but you could see the finished result and the progress they had made.

It felt good to see that progress. You got to see it in all kinds of ways on the farm.

But out here? With this? He wasn’t making any. He thought maybe he would at least have the sword. He was so much better with it than the others.

His chest swelled slightly as he remembered how easily he had won against Nick the previous day and how Amalia had looked at him. He was good at it. A natural with the sword, even if Amalia didn’t tell him that, he could tell.

A puzzle piece clicked in place when he wielded a blade.

But now that the others could use magic to empower themselves, he didn’t even have that going for him. If all adventurers could use elar in that way, then what possible hope did he have?

On the bank of the stream, a red-orange rock caught his attention. He picked it up. It was bumpy and not as shiny as he preferred, but it was interesting. Too bad he hadn’t brought his pack. He could put it in his pocket.

Either way, he had no desire to discard it. I wanted to look at it later and admire its twists and turns, the way it looked like a mini red mountain.

“Running away from your problems, Master Lorcan? I thought better of you.”

Ash rubbed his face, and his voice was tired.

“Can’t you just leave me alone? You’re no help.”

Amalia watched the stream flow along merrily, fish darting around with it. The sound of the rushing water was a gentle melody in the air.

“I wanted to see what you would do.”

Ash lifted an eyebrow at her, pocketing the stone, he crossed his arms.

Amalia continued,

“I knew you couldn’t draw your elar. I wanted to see how you handled it.”

His heart gained a layer of frost, his eyes narrowed,

“So you knew but said nothing. That’s like expecting a blind man to see! You disgust me sometimes, you know? You keep so many secrets, things that would help us figure out who killed our families! You’re just as culpable in my book, and if I thought I had a snowball’s chance, I would throttle the information out of you.”

Amalia tweaked her lips upward in a wry smile,

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

She flicked a hand, dismissing his anger,

“It took you some time before you gave into the frustration. I expected you to cave that night. Instead, you kept trying.”

She cocked her head,

“Admirable. And stubborn.”

Ash wanted to keep berating her, but it was pointless. The violet-eyed woman didn’t care. No matter what words he threw at her, they just slid off her. He may as well have been trying to insult a wall. Instead, he asked a question.

“Why can’t I use my elar? I see the gap within me, the chasm to my elan that I cannot cross.”

Amalia nodded,

“It has to do with your elar paths.”

She slashed a finger to the side when he opened his mouth. He closed it, scowling, but resolved to let her explain.

She pointed at the stream,

“Where do you think this stream flows into?”

Ash chewed on his tongue for a moment,

“A river?”

“Indeed. What would happen if I added a dam to this stream?”

“It would stop flowing into the river.”

“Yes. The connection to the river would be cut off. Thus, the stream would no longer flow to it. If I wished for the stream to flow again, the dam would need to be removed.”

Ash rubbed at his face,

“You’re saying I have a dam that needs to be removed?”

Amalia shook her head,

“Not quite. With you, the metaphor is in the reverse. You need a bridge, something that connects your elar paths, your inner streams if you will, to your elan.”

Ash stepped forward. Here, finally, was a possible solution to the problem.

“How do I get it? How do I find this bridge?”

“You need something integral to who you are.”

Ash growled,

“More light-cursed vague nonsense. Speak plainly; what do I need? If I am to fulfill your condition, I need this, or else I have no hope.”

Amalia closed her eyes, then she opened them, staring hard at Ash.

“You need what your kind has always needed, Ash.”

She took a breath,

“You need a dragon.”