Chapter Twenty-Nine: Frost Dragon Wings

Ash ducked a swinging blade, weaving through the homunculi as he attempted to use a technique. He had wanted to use it before attempting to retrieve the flag, but Amalia had nixed that plan.

“You need to be able to call upon techniques in the heat of battle,” she had said.

Pushing his elar out of his body was proving harder than he first thought it would be. He would have found it easy, but focusing on not getting smashed in the face by solid wooden swords, spears, and staffs was making it really difficult.

He moved under another blade but couldn’t dodge the staff that caught him in the side. He was spun away as agony tore through his ribs. He cried out, clutching his side. The effects of his elar flared up and nearly overwhelmed him.

He groaned, his control slipping. A wooden foot smashed into the same area the staff had hit him, his body rolling as more pain lanced through him like a fiery spear.

He screamed and was about to give up when a curious thought forked into his mind. Images followed it: his uncle standing up to certain death, the people on his farm dead, and pools of blood.

Was he going to give up? That thought seemed to ask. Ash looked out from the corner of his eyes, seeing Lilith looking at him with unblinking eyes, burning like green fire with determination.

Ribs pulsating with pain, Ash focused his mind, rolling away. He pushed himself to his feet just as more homunculi closed in. The animated statues possessed no emotions, yet Ash felt an aura of menace from them anyway.

There were at least a dozen, with even more spread up the hill. He hadn’t even made it ten feet up. They were about as fast as any mortal without elar, which gave him a slight advantage. Or it would if it weren’t for the fact that there were so many.

He moved around them, hand clutching his side. Once more, he tried to push his elar outside himself, but as soon as he tried, the light-cursed statues closed in. He was starting to believe they could sense when he tried to do anything with his elar and redoubled their efforts to hit him.

Throbbing agony in his side didn’t do him any favors, either.

His uncle had died quickly to that mysterious stranger at his farm nearly a month past, but there hadn’t been defeat in his eyes. His uncle hadn’t given up.

If he wanted to reach bronze rank, if he wanted to become strong enough to hunt down that man with cinder eyes, he had to deal with the pain. Gritting his teeth, he drew more elar, intensifying the feeling of elation. He increased what he could sense, not sharpening them but hearing and smelling even more.

The ever-so-slight creak of the wood from which the homunculi were formed and the smell of the stone and dirt became even more acute.

But it also made him slightly faster, and he was able to get away from the assault. He bent his mind toward pushing out his elar, pushing the cold from within out around himself like a billowing cloak.

Nothing happened.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

His frustration, coupled with the shock because he had done exactly what Amalia had told him to do, was enough to distract him. That distraction cost him as one of the homunculi bashed his shoulder blade with a club,

“ARGH!”

The excruciation of his shoulder, feeling like it was crushed, brought him to his knees. His vision was blurred, and tears were in his eyes. He blinked, trying to clear the burning water.

Red pulsated like a fat leech in his mind.

His nails dug into his palm.

No.

He wouldn’t give up.

He drew more elar, the numbness of winter pouring through his veins. His body shook. A high-pitched growl rolled through his mind.

Pleasure like lightning rode through him, mixing with the pain; it became a discordance of feeling he couldn’t control.

His head hit the ground, darkness closing in.

He succumbed to it.

_____________

“I wondered when you might do that,” Amalia said.

Ash’s eyes slowly blinked open. His body immediately reported to him that it was sore, tired, and unhappy. Lilith lay unmoving beside him in her dragon form, and just like that he couldn’t care less about how he felt.

He was wide awake as he bolted to her side,

“Lilith!” He placed a hand on her side.

Ash blew out a breath as he sagged, tension draining. She was breathing!

“Your dragon is merely tired, but it could have been worse.”

He shot her a look, mouth agape,

“What? Why did this happen?!”

“Because of you, Master Lorcan.”

No words came from him. He looked down at Lilith, then back up at his teacher.

“I did this?” His words sounded hollow.

Amalia nodded,

“Yes, you did. I am glad you feel ashamed. Unlike what happened at the farm, this is your fault.”

The storyteller didn’t sound angry, but her words may as well have been hammer blows. She went on,

“Can you not put it together? You drew too much elar. You and Lilith,” she pointed at the dragon hatchling, “Are connected. You share an intimate bond, one you do not yet fully understand. While she may not share your pain, your elan and elar are connected. When you draw too much, you risk dying. That means she also dies. Or, when you knock yourself out by drawing near your limit, she, too, goes unconscious.”

Ash looked at his dragon. He placed a hand on her tiny form, feeling the warmth of her body and the smooth hardness of her scales.

“I am sorry, Lilith,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

“I once met a man long a go with hair like wildfire and eyes as green as your young dragons there. He told me something I committed to memory. Determination is important, but in battle, you need control and focus far more. Perhaps you will find this useful as you attempt the trial again. Right now.”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Perhaps, how would I know if I am? I will give you an elar potion, but it will not make your body any less sore.” She produced a clear blue potion, handing it to him.

He drank it, not feeling better physically, but he confirmed that he could draw on his elar, and Lilith began to stir. Her green eyes found his cold blue ones, and she blinked once before snorting.

Ash laughed,

“Okay then, I guess I’m ready to try again.”

He stood, facing the homunculi. He stepped to the base of the hill, and the wooden monsters burst into sudden life once more.

Ash rolled his stiff neck.

Then he began to draw his elar.

_____________

It was still hard, but he tried to focus his mind. Amalia had forbidden him to use his sword, and thus, the clarity of focus that came to him while he held a blade eluded him. Trying to recall the feeling, Ash pictured himself holding a sword, moving as if he had one.

He partially succeeded. He couldn’t recall perfect clarity, but he got a piece of it.

That was enough.

Focus came to him, shaken but not broken this time, as he avoided the wooden soldiers.

He didn’t try to engulf himself in his elar as before, mainly because Lilith pushed thoughts into his mind suggesting a different path.

She showed him an image of a dragon flying through the air; wings glorious in the light of a new day.

Yes, that’s right, Ash thought.

His elar surged forth as if eager to fulfill that image.

Elar pushed itself out of his back, manifesting as swirling winter blue and silver-white ice with veins of crystalline purple. Billowing from his back, the power morphed as if winter itself were shaping to his will.

Frost detonated from him, coating the front row of soldiers in layers of frost. Lilith let out a shrill cry of joy.

He now had frost dragon wings billowing from his back, radiating cold power.

Ash grinned.

He had done it!