Chapter Fourteen: Sally of the Water

  "Villagers sometimes give local monsters plaguing them names. Perhaps this is a coping method. Naming a thing familiarizes it and lessens the fear of the unknown. Regardless, this one is known as Sally of The Water." Amalia tapped the contract, which listed the name in large, bold letters that were crudely written. Her violet eyes swept over the parchment, analyzing every detail as the small group gathered around the wooden table in the dimly lit corner of the inn.

  The flickering light of nearby candles cast long shadows across her stoic features as she continued, "Villagers will often deal with the monster for months before adventurers come along to kill it. Ending the monster's life is a process. One adventurers call 'The Hunt.' The hunt is broken down into two parts. Preparation, and finally, the kill. Preparation is by far the most involved of the process, and you will be splitting the burden of it amongst yourselves."

  The scent of ale and stew permeated the air around them. From nearby tables, the murmur of conversations and occasional bursts of laughter created a stark contrast to the serious discussion happening in their corner. A serving girl passed by, plates balanced precariously on her arms, shooting them a curious glance before moving on.

  Amalia shifted her gaze to Ash, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You will speak to the one who posted the notice; in this case, it is the village elder, Egard. It says he can be found in his home on the wharf. You will negotiate a price with him and inquire as to whether or not there are any live witnesses or any other information that may be important." She leaned forward, her voice lowering. "Make sure to ask inquisitive questions, Master Lorcan, as you and the elder lack knowledge. You do not know what information is important or what isn't."

  Ash scowled, his fingers tightening around the wooden cup before him. His blue eyes hardened like ice as he felt the familiar frustration rise within him. The winter within his veins stirred, though he fought to keep it at bay. It wasn't their fault that getting information out of Amalia was like trying to get information from a wall. Still, he found himself nodding in compliance. Arguments with her had proven fruitless thus far, and he needed to learn what he could.

  "The rest of you will also ask about, seeing what you can learn," Amalia continued, addressing the others. "Once we can identify the monster, we can discuss next steps. Off you go, children."

  Ash stood first, followed by Rosalia, whose red hair caught the candlelight like living flame. Nick grumbled something under his breath, his dark features set in their familiar scowl. Will stretched languidly, making a show of his reluctance though his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

  "Come on," Ash said, gesturing to the door. "No sense wasting daylight."

  They departed the inn, stepping out into the coastal air of Brilehaven. The scent of salt and fish hit them immediately, carried on a brisk wind that tugged at their clothes and hair. Seagulls circled overhead, their cries piercing the general bustle of the town. Ash adjusted his leather armor, which was still new enough to creak with each movement.

  "Should we split up?" Rosalia asked, her green eyes studying Ash's face with concern. "You seem tense."

  Ash nodded. "I'll head to the wharf to find the elder. The rest of you should spread out, see what the townspeople know. Someone might know something they don't even realize is important."

  Nick nodded. "I'll check the taverns. People talk when they drink."

  "I'll try the market," Will offered. "Traders hear things."

  Rosalia hesitated. "I could come with you, Ash. Two sets of ears are better than one."

  Part of Ash wanted to accept her offer. Her presence was always calming, and he enjoyed being near her. But Amalia's instructions had been clear, and he didn't want to waste an opportunity to gather more information from different sources.

  "Better if we split up," he said finally. "Try the local craftspeople. They often know more than they let on about town matters."

  She seemed disappointed but nodded her agreement. "Be careful."

  "Always am," he replied with a forced smile.

  They parted ways, and Ash headed directly to the wharf. The harbor bustled with activity. Fishermen unloaded their catch from boats bobbing gently in the waters. Their weathered hands worked with practiced efficiency, sorting fish by size and type. The smell of brine and fresh catch filled the air, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Gulls swooped and screeched overhead, hoping for scraps.

  Ash scanned the area, noting the various wooden structures dotting the shoreline. Several houses stood overlooking the sea, their weathered exteriors speaking of years withstanding the coastal elements. He approached a middle-aged woman carrying a basket of dried herbs, her hair tied back with a faded blue scarf.

  "Excuse me," he said, offering a respectful nod. "Could you direct me to Elder Egard's home?"

  She looked him up and down, taking in his youthful appearance and the sword at his hip. "That one there, young man," she pointed to a simple one-story house set slightly apart from the others. "Mind your manners with him. He doesn't suffer fools gladly."

  "Thank you," Ash replied, already moving in the indicated direction.

  The home was well-maintained and made of good-quality dark wood that had been weathered by years of salt air. A small garden of hardy coastal plants lined the path to the front door, carefully tended despite the challenging growing conditions. Smoke curled lazily from a stone chimney.

  On the porch sat an old man in a rocking chair. His silver hair caught the sunlight, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His skin was deeply tanned and weathered from decades under the sun, creased into permanent lines that spoke of both laughter and hardship. He wore simple brown robes, faded but clean. His blue eyes, holding a hint of grey like storm clouds on a clear day, stared out at the ocean, seemingly oblivious to Ash's approach.

  Ash stopped at the foot of the porch steps, clearing his throat. "Hello, sir. I'm Ash."

  The old man didn't turn, didn't even blink. "Hm." The sound was barely acknowledgment, a mere vibration in the air.

  Ash followed the elder's gaze out to the water. Gentle waves lapped against the shore, creating a rhythmic soundtrack to the harbor's activities. Far out, where the water met the sky, a fishing boat was making its way back to port.

  "I'm here about the notice," Ash tried again, stepping onto the first porch step. "For Sally of the Water?"

  This seemed to coax a slightly more substantial response from the elder. His grey-blue eyes slowly turned from the waves to look at Ash, taking in every detail of the young man before him.

  "Young," he stated flatly, his voice like dry leaves rustling in autumn.

  Ash blinked, taken aback by the simple assessment. "Yes... Is anyone alive who may have seen the monster, or maybe can tell us more about it?"

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  The elder's eyes narrowed slightly, and he turned back to the sea. "Young. Go away, boy."

  Ash felt a surge of cold irritation flood his veins. He clenched his jaw, working to keep his expression neutral. Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out, watching it form a small cloud in the cool air.

  "I am young," Ash conceded, keeping his voice level. "But I have a... teacher. I am here on her behalf."

  He hated having to explain himself; sixteen was nearly an adult by Alerian standards. His uncle had been running farm operations alone by that age. Plus, it wasn't as if anyone else was offering to slay the beast. The notice had been posted for weeks according to the date on the parchment.

  Egard scrutinized him for several long moments, the only sound between them the creak of his rocking chair and the distant calls of seabirds. Finally, he spoke, his voice slightly softer.

  "Hm. There's a fisherman. He's recovering at the healer's home in the square. He was attacked just last night."

  With that, the elder returned to his contemplation of the ocean, rocking gently, looking away from Ash as if their conversation was through. Ash stood his ground, though. The business wasn't concluded.

  "Right. We need to talk price." Ash crossed his arms, planting his feet firmly.

  Egard didn't so much as blink, his weathered profile unmoving against the backdrop of the sea. "Two silver is the price."

  Ash considered this. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how much to ask for. He had no idea what the going rate for monster slaying was. Amalia hadn't given him an amount he should try to get, either. The lack of guidance irritated him.

  With her, it's probably some test, Ash thought bitterly. Everything seemed to be a test with Amalia, layers upon layers of lessons hidden within simple tasks.

  He decided to try to get as much as possible. After all, they were risking their lives, and the skills they brought were valuable. Plus, they needed supplies, potions, and possibly specialized equipment depending on what the monster turned out to be.

  "Eight silver," Ash countered, watching carefully for the elder's reaction.

  Egard's eyes narrowed dangerously, the lines around them deepening like crevasses. "No. Go away."

  Ash was starting to strongly dislike the old man, but beneath his annoyance, he had a nagging feeling that this was a facade. This man was called the village elder, meaning he was some leader or at least well-respected in the village. He cared about the people here, and turning away help like this would be irresponsible. Ash observed the way Egard's gnarled fingers gripped the arms of his rocking chair, the tension in his shoulders.

  He's worried about the cost to his people, but also about the danger to them if the monster isn't dealt with, Ash realized.

  "Look, sir," Ash began, his voice gentler now, "I get it. This money is coming from the villagers. You need to keep them in mind." He stepped closer, looking directly into the old man's eyes. "But you also have to understand that we are risking our lives here, and ultimately, what's more important to you, money or the lives of your people?"

  Egard stared at him, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the creak of the rocking chair and the distant sound of waves.

  Then, slowly, almost reluctantly, he smiled. The expression transformed his face, softening the hard lines and illuminating his eyes. "Like you, boy. You know how to use leverage in a negotiation." He nodded approvingly. "Eight silver, then."

  Relief washed through Ash. He stepped forward, extending his hand. Egard took it, his grip surprisingly strong for one so aged. His palm was callused, the skin rough from decades of hard work.

  "Thank you, sir," Ash said, meaning it. "We'll take care of Sally of the Water."

  "See that you do," Egard replied, releasing his hand. "Too many have been hurt already."

  Ash nodded and turned to leave.

  "Boy," Egard called after him.

  Ash paused, looking back.

  The elder's face was serious once more. "Be careful. The sea gives life, but it takes it just as easily."

  With those ominous words ringing in his ears, Ash made his way toward the healer's home in the town square.

  The square was bustling with midday activity. Vendors called out their wares, children darted between stalls, and townsfolk moved about their business with the unhurried pace of people whose lives were dictated by tides and seasons rather than clocks.

  The healer's home stood in stark contrast to the elder's modest dwelling. Whereas Egard's home was made of dark wood and simple in design, this structure was made of polished stone and featured elegant archways and large, glass-paned windows. Carefully tended flowers bloomed in window boxes, their bright colors a cheerful greeting to those seeking help.

  Inside was a reception area with polished floors and comfortable-looking chairs. A young blonde woman sat behind a desk, carefully recording something in a large ledger. Her hair was done up in a neat bun, and her warm brown eyes reflected both intelligence and compassion.

  There was also a line of villagers waiting their turn to see the healer. Some bore visible injuries, others clutched small children, while still others simply looked unwell. Ash sighed inwardly.

  "Well. This is going to take a minute," he muttered to himself, taking a position at the end of the line.

  After nearly half an hour of watching people come and go, listening to snippets of conversation about ailments and treatments, it was finally Ash's turn to talk to the receptionist. Up close, he could see that she was younger than he initially thought, perhaps only a few years older than himself.

  "Hello! Welcome to Healer Shawna's, how may I help you?" She closed her brown eyes briefly as she smiled at him, the gesture warm and practiced.

  "I'm here to see an injured fisherman," Ash explained. "He saw a monster I'm looking into, so I want to ask him some questions."

  Recognition flashed across her face. "Oh, you must mean Bert. The monster would be Sally of the Water, I'm assuming."

  Ash nodded, surprised and relieved that his task might be easier than expected. "Yes, that's right."

  The receptionist glanced over her shoulder toward a door on her right. "Straight through there you'll find his room. We don't keep many patients here, but Healer Shawna wanted to keep a close eye on him." She lowered her voice, leaning slightly forward. "His wounds are... unusual. I've never seen anything like them before."

  A chill ran down Ash's spine. "Thank you," he said, moving toward the indicated door.

  Beyond was a hallway with three separate open rooms. The rooms were largely empty, with just a small single bed in each. In the first room was a broad-shouldered man with the same weathered skin Ash was getting used to seeing around Brilehaven. His hair was sandy brown, and he was staring off into space, wearing nothing but a white gown.

  As Ash got closer, he noticed that the bed had scripts etched into the frame. They were glowing a pink-red, pulsating gently like a heartbeat. He recognized healing scripts, though these were more complex than any he'd seen before. Whatever was wrong with this man, it was serious enough to require constant magical intervention.

  "Hello, Mr. Bert. I'm Ash," he said, stepping into the room.

  Bert turned his head to look at him, his green eyes dull and listless. Dark circles hung beneath them, speaking of sleepless nights and constant pain.

  "Yeah? What do ya want, kid?" His voice was rough, like he'd been screaming recently.

  Ash suppressed the cold irritation he felt at being called kid. This man was suffering; he could overlook the slight.

  "I'm here to ask you about the monster you saw."

  A visible shudder passed through Bert's entire body, and the fisherman looked away, his gaze finding the window and the sliver of ocean visible through it.

  "I don't really want to talk about it. Scram, kid."

  Ash frowned, considering his approach. He could see the fear etched into Bert's features, the way his hands trembled slightly where they rested on the blanket. This man was terrified, but Ash needed information if they were going to stop Sally of the Water from hurting anyone else.

  "Do you want it to happen again?" Ash asked, his voice quiet but firm.

  Bert shot a scowl his way, color rising in his pallid cheeks. "What?! Of course, I don't, ya stupid kid."

  Ash crossed his arms, meeting the fisherman's angry gaze without flinching. "I'm here with a team and our teacher to kill it. If you don't tell me about it, we can't do that. So come on, cough up the information."

  For a moment, Bert continued to glare at him. Then, as the meaning of Ash's words sank in, his expression changed. The anger drained away, replaced by a cautious hope mingled with fear. He closed his eyes briefly, swallowing hard. There was a visible struggle in his features as he came to a decision.

  "Okay, fine. But I'm not repeating this, yeah?" His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper.

  Ash bobbed his head in acceptance of his terms. "Just once. Tell me what happened."

  Bert took a deep breath, his eyes unfocusing as he recalled the memory. "It was night. I was off, so I was enjoying myself with a drink on the shore. Then I heard it," he swallowed again, his voice suddenly hoarse, "This singin'. Never heard anythin' like it before, ya know? It was so... so... beautiful."

  His face took on a dreamy quality, lost in the recollection. "I couldn't tear my attention away, and I wanted to hear more. So I... followed it."

  Bert stared at the wall, clearly lost in the memory. Ash waited patiently, knowing the man needed time to get through this. The only sounds in the room were their breathing and the faint hum of the healing scripts embedded in the bed.

  After what seemed like an eternity, he continued. "Over the water was this woman. Most beautiful woman I've ever lain my eyes on, I swear it on my dead Ma." His voice took on a reverent quality. "She was lookin' at me with this... like she wanted me, ya know what I mean." A blush crawled up his neck. "I... wanted her... and I wasn't exactly thinkin' straight. I got closer..."

  His voice started to quiver, the dreamy quality evaporating as his face contorted with remembered terror. "She changed. Her hands morphed into these terrible claws, and the next thing I knew, I was lyin' there, bleedin' and in so much pain. If my fellow fishermen hadn't heard my screamin' and come to take me as quick as they could to the healer, I'd be dead."

  Ash listened intently, piecing together the information. A beautiful woman, singing, luring men to their doom. It matched several creatures he'd read about in the few monster lore books he'd managed to get his hands on.

  Bert lifted his gown up, and Ash was grateful he had pants on beneath it. What Ash saw made his blood run cold.

  Large scars like slashes from a huge creature ran from hip to shoulder. They were angry red, like thick leeches growing fat off his blood and about to burst at any moment. Unlike normal wounds, these seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of their own.

  "They open up at night," Bert said, his voice hollow. "It ain't natural, and I wake up bleedin' and screamin'. Healer Shawna says she's waitin' on an adventurer healer to come check me out. She had this bed with these scripts, and it's the only thing keepin' me alive." His eyes, filled with desperation, sought Ash's. "Does that answer your questions, boy?"

  Ash felt a pang of sympathy for the man. He couldn't imagine living in such a way, knowing that each night would bring fresh agony, never knowing if he would survive until morning. For a moment, his own troubles seemed insignificant compared to Bert's suffering.

  "Almost," he said gently. "Where, exactly, did you see her?"

  Bert let the gown fall back down, covering the horrible wounds. "It was past the elder's home aways, the empty stretch of shore." He looked away. "Now, go. Please. I wanna get what rest I can afore the screamin' starts again."

  Ash winced at the blunt reminder of what awaited the fisherman once darkness fell. He nodded, respecting the man's wish. He had bothered the poor man enough. As he turned to leave, he wanted to say something, offer even a little comfort. What could he say that wouldn't sound hollow in the face of such suffering?

  In the end, all he could offer was a promise. "If it helps at all, we will kill this thing."

  Bert grunted, turning his face to the wall.

  Ash slipped out of the room quietly, his mind racing with all he had learned. The receptionist glanced up as he passed, her expression questioning, but he didn't stop to chat. He needed to find the others and share what he'd discovered.

  As he stepped back out into the sunlight, squinting against the sudden brightness, Ash felt a weight settle on his shoulders. This wasn't just about fulfilling Amalia's conditions anymore. Real people were suffering, and he now carried the responsibility of stopping it. Somewhere out in those deceptively calm waters lurked a monster, and he was determined to end its reign of terror.

  With purposeful strides, he headed back toward the inn to report his findings to the others. Sally of the Water's days were numbered.