Chapter Thirty-Four: Dire Wolf

  After visiting various ingredients shops scattered throughout Ivalia and procuring a handful of recipes from a gruff herbalist with fingers stained permanently green, Ash spent the entirety of the next day whipping up potions in his rented room. The air filled with earthy scents and occasional puffs of colored smoke as he worked meticulously over his portable burner.

  First, he prepared a potion of fire resistance, carefully measuring out salamander scales and heating them in oil until they turned translucent. The resulting liquid glowed with a faint orange hue when he held it to the light. It wasn't full-on immunity to flame, but it was certainly better than nothing against a fire dire wolf. The concoction would at least prevent his skin from blistering immediately upon contact with flame.

  Next, he created two healing potions, grinding cura flowers into a fine paste and mixing them with pure spring water. He watched with satisfaction as the mixture turned a deep crimson and began to emit a soft, pulsing glow. The familiar sweet scent of healing potions filled his nostrils, bringing back memories of the farm when his uncle had treated his scraped knee after a fall from an apple tree.

  He could only afford to make one elar potion, as the ingredients for those were exceptionally scarce and prohibitively expensive. The crystallized essence of a storm cloud alone had cost him nearly half a silver piece, and the price had made him wince so hard the merchant had actually laughed at him. Ash had almost abandoned the idea entirely for fear of being in debt for the rest of his existence. But after weighing the dangers ahead, he decided the investment was worth it. The blue-tinged liquid might mean the difference between life and death if his reserves ran low during a fight.

  After finishing the potions, Ash turned his attention to creating wolfsbane oil. This particular concoction was essential; it would work on lycanthropes and dire wolves alike, preventing their notorious healing capabilities. He carefully ground white wolfsbane flowers with a mortar and pestle, adding silver dust and a base of purified animal fat. The mixture gave off an acrid smell that made his eyes water, but he persisted, knowing its value against regenerating creatures.

  He didn't need a blessing as he wasn't dealing with a spirit or wraith. However, he did consider getting scripts added to his weapons. That consideration was short-lived after hearing the price.

  "Two gold?" he choked when the scripter, an elderly man with fingers covered in ink stains and eyes magnified to comical proportions behind thick spectacles, quoted him the price.

  The scripter shrugged, his bony shoulders rising and falling beneath his worn robe. "It's several hours worth of painstaking inscription, plus the aspect stone alone is worth a gold. I don't set the market prices, young man."

  Ash thanked him politely but left the shop empty-handed, the door closing behind him with a soft jingle of bells. There was absolutely no way he would put himself in that much debt for a script. He was already in for a gold and five silver pieces with Skori, and that was stretching his financial limits to the breaking point.

  Before leaving the market district, he purchased a sturdy leather belt that went diagonally across his chest, specially designed with loops and small pouches to store his potions and oils for quick access during combat. The leather felt smooth and well-oiled against his fingers as he tested the clasps and buckles.

  As prepared as he could reasonably be without bankrupting himself completely, Ash planned to meet up with Rosalia, Nick, and Will to say his goodbyes before heading to the mine. Lilith walked beside him, occasionally kicking at pebbles in their path, her thoughts buzzing with excitement about the upcoming battles. She sent him one vivid image of herself standing triumphant, breathing magnificent purple fire into the air over a pile of dire wolf corpses, their bodies limp and defeated at her claws.

  "Glad to see you're confident," he thought at her, his lips curving into a small smile. He'd been doing that frequently lately, thinking words at her rather than speaking aloud. He hoped she would pick up the common tongue eventually if he kept at it, though her dracian responses were becoming clearer in his mind with each passing day.

  Rosalia waved at him enthusiastically from a table near the window of the adventurers guild. Sunlight streamed through the glass, highlighting the red in her hair and making her elven features seem almost ethereal. Ash navigated through the crowded room, nodding at a few fellow students he recognized, and sat down across from his friends.

  "Look at you!" Will exclaimed, pointing dramatically at the new sword hanging at Ash's hip. "You're officially a real boy! And not just some farm kid playing dress-up."

  "New armor, too," Nick observed, eyeing the leather protection visible beneath Ash's open coat. "You look like an experienced adventurer, not a student wetting himself at the thought of a real monster. How did you pay for all of that?"

  Ash rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he'd never quite managed to break. Lilith snickered beside him, a sound that resembled a hiccup combined with a growl.

  Rosalia raised an eyebrow in question, while Will leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "You sold your body, didn't you? It's okay, we won't judge. Much."

  Ash jerked away from him, his face flushing pink. "I did not do that!" he protested, perhaps too loudly, causing several heads to turn in their direction. He lowered his voice. "I made a deal with the blacksmith."

  Nick grunted, taking a swig from his mug before speaking. "Skori? He's good people. You can trust him." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "But he'll bleed every silver piece from a stone, though. Light cursed merchants, the lot of them."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Rosalia bit her lip, her green eyes filled with concern as she studied Ash. "Is it a good idea? Putting yourself in debt like that? You've only just started at the academy."

  Ash held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Not much else I can do. I don't have time to earn it any other way before the hunt. And I really don't want to face a dire wolf with nothing but my charm and good looks."

  "What does he have you doing?" Nick asked, leaning forward with interest.

  Ash looked away, his gaze settling on a worn spot in the wooden table. He hated keeping things from them, especially since they'd been through so much together, but Skori had been very clear about discretion.

  "Sorry, I can't say. I agreed to keep it quiet with Skori," he said finally.

  Nick grunted again, a sound that somehow conveyed both disappointment and understanding. "Light, course he did. Secretive as a tomb, that one." He stroked his short beard thoughtfully. "May as well tell ya how to adapt then. You might need it for whatever you're facing. Also, you should know somethin'."

  Ash gestured for him to continue. Nick shared a loaded glance with the others who nodded almost imperceptibly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before thumbing the handle of his hammer absently.

  "Right. People have been going missing. Just a rumor we all heard, but since you're going off on your own, ya should know," Nick said, his voice unusually serious.

  Ash firmed his lips into a thin line, his previous excitement dampened by this news. People going missing didn't sound good, particularly with what they had encountered in the foundling dungeon. But until he knew more, he would just have to be careful and alert.

  "What do you mean about adapting?" he asked, changing the subject to something more immediately useful.

  It was Rosalia who answered, leaning forward, her voice taking on the instructional tone she often used when explaining complex concepts. "Now that you have access to your elan, you're going to absorb elar from defeating monsters. I don't know why it works that way; the adventuring party we were with just told us that was how it works. It's how you advance in rank. But the elar you get doesn't always align with your elan. You have to adapt it."

  "How do I do that?" Ash asked, genuinely interested.

  "Breathing," Will said with a grin. He sucked in a huge breath, puffing out his chest comically, then blew it out dramatically, making a whooshing sound that caused a nearby adventurer to turn and scowl at them.

  Rosalia giggled despite herself, shoving Will's shoulder. "Not like that, you idiot," she said with obvious affection. She turned back to Ash. "You know how to access your elan, right?"

  Ash nodded, remembering the cold sphere of power within himself.

  "So, you do that, but instead of drawing your elar, you sort of grab the absorbed elar and pull it through your elan. You have to be utterly calm while doing it, which is why it doesn't work in a fight. The group we were with didn't tell us the consequences of trying it in a fight, but they looked pretty grim when we asked and just reiterated that we do not do it, under any circumstances." She paused, flicking a glance at Will. "Breathing helps keep you calm, so that's why Will mentioned it. Even if he was being a jokester about it."

  She shot Will a look that was half exasperation, half fondness.

  Will gave a little bow, a huge grin spreading across his handsome face. "At your service, my lady," he quipped.

  Ash noted all this information carefully in his mind, mentally rehearsing the steps Rosalia had described. He was fairly certain he would be facing numerous wolves in the mines, and knowing how to adapt their elar would be necessary for his advancement.

  Lilith had tuned out most of the conversation, her gaze wandering around the room, occasionally focusing on particularly interesting patrons or the paintings on the wall. Eventually, she grew tired of being ignored and sent Ash a vivid picture of a huge, succulent ham. She was hungry, and when she got hungry, there was absolutely nothing for it but to feed her or she would constantly annoy him with increasingly graphic food imagery until he did.

  "I'll order some food," Ash said, signaling to a server. "What monster are you all going after?" he asked his friends while they waited.

  "A troll. There's one in the mountains that's been terrorizing travelers," Nick said before taking another swallow of his tea, which Ash suspected might be something stronger based on the flush spreading across the dwarf's face.

  "Hobgoblin," Rosalia added simply, tucking a strand of hair behind her pointed ear.

  "A wight," Will said, his voice taking on a dramatic timbre as if he were announcing the villain in a stage play.

  Ash looked at him curiously. "I've never heard of that one."

  Will smiled, always happy to be the center of attention. "It's an undead. A slightly more powerful zombie, with some limited intelligence. There's one by a makeshift graveyard in the forest. Someone wants it taken care of so the Ivalians can visit again. I'm just the hero for the job," he concluded, hooking a thumb at himself with theatrical flair.

  Rosalia snorted, and Ash chuckled a bit as Nick grunted, shaking his head at Will's antics.

  Lilith paid no attention to the conversation, focused entirely on devouring the plate of food that had arrived, tearing into it with gusto that bordered on savagery. A small piece of meat flew across the table, landing near Nick's mug.

  "You're not taking her with you, are you?" Rosalia asked suddenly, her eyes on Lilith with obvious concern.

  "She's going to help," Ash replied, more defensive than he intended.

  Rosalia frowned, her forehead creasing. "Um. Isn't that dangerous? For a little girl?" she asked, genuine worry in her voice.

  Ash looked uncertain for a moment, doubt flickering across his features. He had grown so used to thinking of Lilith as his powerful dragon companion that he sometimes forgot how she appeared to others.

  "She'll be okay," he said finally. "She's more powerful than she looks, trust me."

  His companions exchanged glances, clearly unconvinced, but none of them pressed the issue further. They had all survived enough together to respect each other's judgment, even when they disagreed.

  After the meal, they all said their goodbyes, each wishing the others luck in their respective hunts. Ash departed the guild with Lilith at his side, the weight of his new equipment both reassuring and unfamiliar as he adjusted the straps of his armor.

  He began his trek to the mine, taking care to ensure he wasn't being followed. He wasn't an expert in such matters, but he took several unnecessary turns and doubled back once, reasonably certain that no one was tracking his movements. The last thing he needed was competition for his quarry or, worse, someone with darker intentions.

  The mine looked exactly like what he expected a dangerous creature's lair to be: a foreboding cave opening in the side of a rocky hill, with scattered, discarded pickaxes lying abandoned nearby. Faded warning signs about monsters had been hammered into the ground near the entrance, some tilting at precarious angles.

  Ash took a deep breath, looking down at Lilith who stood beside him, her small form belying the power he knew she possessed. "Try to stay out of the way, okay? If you can, call something out if you see danger that I don't notice."

  Lilith snorted, sending him thoughts that conveyed not only that his concern was unwarranted and unwanted, but that he was the one who should be careful instead. Her mental image showed him tripping over his own feet and landing face-first in the dirt while she watched with draconic disdain.

  Ash chuckled despite the tension building in his shoulders. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

  A slight breeze wafted from the cave, carrying with it the unsettling scent of bones, earth, ash, and iron. The smell of predator and prey, of death and survival.

  Unsheathing his blade, which caught the sunlight with a gleam that seemed almost eager, Ash quickly checked that he had everything he needed. Potions secured on his chest belt, oils in their flasks, blade in hand. He did a final mental inventory, nodding to himself.

  There was no more reason to delay. The excitement of the hunt pulsed through his veins, mingling with healthy caution and determination.

  It was time.

  The dire wolf den awaited, along with whatever secrets and dangers it might hold.