Chapter 45

That night, Ashlara and I sat by the fire, the small flames barely holding the cold at bay. The temperature had dropped and heavy gray clouds were rolling in from the west. The moon had just risen - its familiar pale green face deeper and brighter than usual, like it was closer tonight.

“Hey, Ashie,” I said after a while. “What do you want?”

She turned to look at me, confusion flickering across her face.

I frowned slightly, trying to put the feeling into words. “Mirri wanted kids. She hasn’t had any of her own, but… I think she’s getting a taste of that now. And she seems happy.” I smiled despite myself. “And Serah - she needed things with her father to be cleared up. It’s not fixed, not really, but she’s smiled more in the past few days than in all the time I’ve known her. And I barely even see her anymore, being this far out.”

I stared into the fire. “I think this is what I wanted. What I needed. A family. Friends.” I glanced at her. “You. Mirri. Serah. Lilae. You’re my family now. The last one I had…” I shook my head. “That didn’t end well. But this - this works.”

I exhaled slowly. “I’m content. Happy, in a way I never thought I would be. Even with everything so messed up. Even being this far from home. Even after nearly dying - what, five times now?” I gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “I know you’re here. That you’ve got my back. And that I’ve got yours.”

I looked over at her again. “Everyone’s gotten at least part of what they want. Everyone but you. So - what is it that you want?”

Ashlara didn’t answer right away. She sat there in silence, eyes on the fire, the wind tugging at her hair. A long time passed.

“I don’t know,” she said at last, her voice barely louder than the crackle of the flames.

* * *

Sometime after midnight, the weather turned ugly. Rain came first, then sleet - cold, miserable sheets of it that soaked everything before sealing it beneath a brittle skin of ice. My tent started leaking not long after. My newfound resistance to the cold kept me from the worst of it, but wet clothes and damp bedding are their own kind of ****, and sleep never really came.

When I finally crawled out, sharp needles of ice stung my face. I crouched by the fire and tossed on a handful of sticks, coaxing the nearly drowned embers back to life. It took time, but the flames eventually caught and began to push back the cold and dark.

A moment later, Ashlara emerged from her tent. Her hair hung wet against her shoulders, and her lips and the skin around her eyes had taken on an unsettling blue-green cast. She didn’t shiver. She simply crouched by the fire and held her hands out to the heat.

I sat beside her and poked at the fire with a stick. We sat like that in silence for a while.

“You’re warm,” she said at last, her eyes fixed on the flames.

I smiled faintly. “I don’t feel cold much anymore. The wet’s just annoying.”

“You’re radiating heat,” she said. After a pause, “More than normal.”

“Do I normally radiate heat?” I asked.

“Most people do,” she replied. “But you more than most. And now more than before.”

I frowned, thinking it over. Of course people had body heat. You could feel it if you were close to someone on a cold night. But was I really warmer than others? I’d always preferred the cold to the heat. You could layer up when it was chilly; summer was another matter entirely. Being heavy and out of shape meant I usually ran hot, sweating even while shoveling snow.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that cold didn’t really affect me anymore. Was that a manifestation of my Faith? Or maybe because I could breathe fire? Was that a side effect of the Rite of Shared Flame? I didn’t know.

Without saying anything, I reached out and draped the end of my cloak over her shoulders, then wrapped my arms around her and pulled her toward me. She was balanced on the balls of her feet, and the sudden movement tipped her over. She landed solidly against my chest.

She tried to pull away, but I tightened my arms. She looked up at me, her face only a breath from mine.

“You’re freezing,” I said quietly, rubbing her cold arms under my damp cloak. “Let me warm you.”

She flushed and turned her eyes away, her body stiff for a long while. Slowly - almost imperceptibly - she began to relax. She shifted, settling more comfortably. She rested her head against my chest. And eventually she fell asleep

She laid there, my arms around her, while the fire crackled and the sleet whispered against the frozen ground.

* * *

The sleet was still falling in the early hours of the morning. We were warm and damp - an improvement over cold and damp, at least. Ashlara shifted against me, then stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

“Good morning, beautiful,” I said softly, smiling.

Her eyes snapped wide and she scrambled upright, driving her knee straight into my groin in the process. I folded with a groan, the air rushing out of me as nausea surged.

“Hell of a way to wake up,” I managed, teeth clenched.

She stared anywhere but at me. “Sorry,” she said quietly.

“That one’s on me,” I wheezed, rolling onto my hands and knees. It took a long moment to get my breathing back under control before I staggered to my feet. “We should get an inn tonight,” I added. “If the weather keeps this up.”

She nodded, distracted.

We broke camp and headed for the northern gate around what I assumed was dawn. With the sky choked with clouds, it was hard to tell. The timing lined up, at least - the guards were just opening the gates to let people in.

They stopped us to ask questions - how long we’d be staying, what our business was, the usual. All the things they hadn’t bothered with when I’d come through alone.

Once inside, we found an inn and rented a room. After dropping our packs and getting some warm breakfast, we headed for the public baths nearby. They were nothing like the baths in Woodshome.

Instead of a longhouse filled with oblong barrels, Northgate’s bathhouse was a massive stone building with dozens of private rooms. To the right were chambers with sunken tubs, each about six feet square, the water bubbling and steaming. Some of those rooms had tables set up for massages.

At the center of the building was a large pool where people could swim or soak, steam rising into the cool, humid air. Signs pointed toward gender-specific pools as well, for those who preferred them.

The left side held more massage tables and additional private rooms.

There was no crew hauling jugs of hot water. Most of the attendants were there to provide soft, white towels, with a handful tending the massage tables. The place was nearly empty - still too early for most patrons - but I could imagine it packed later in the day.

I paid for a room for each of us and had our clothes cleaned and dried while we soaked. Ashlara protested, but I told her she could cover the next one. It cost me three silver, leaving me with three gold and some change.

Sinking into the hot water after a night of freezing rain was bliss. I scrubbed dirt and dried blood from my skin, washed my hair, and let the heat work the stiffness out of my muscles.

An hour later, we were clean, warm, and dressed in fresh clothes. I felt like a new man, and Ashlara looked more at ease than she had in days. We returned to the inn, then split up - she went shopping while I headed to see Nanders before returning to the archive.

I asked Nanders if he could recommend books on learning magic. He graciously lent me a few spare textbooks - more advanced than I could comfortably handle, but close enough that I thought I might puzzle them out soon. We talked a bit more about Earth, and he ran a few additional tests on me before I took my leave.

I made my way back to the massive gothic structure that housed the Grand Archive and stepped up to the information desk to ask for help. This time I was greeted by a short, heavyset woman in her fifties, her faded brown hair pulled back and her eyes warm and kind. She listened patiently as I explained what I was looking for, then guided me through the Archive’s maze of knowledge.

She started me with the general history of Arvellia - wars fought and forgotten, borders redrawn, kings crowned and buried. From there I was led, almost inevitably, into the history of magic itself, then into the social customs and physical traits of different cultures and peoples, and finally into the habitats and behaviors of the animals and monsters that shared the world with us.

Hours slipped by as I read, asked questions, and tried to cram as much information into my head as I could manage. It felt like the kind of place where a person could spend a lifetime and still discover something new every day.

Eventually the light through the stained glass dimmed and the sun sank beyond the horizon. Reluctantly, I gathered my things and left. I made my way back to the inn, where Ashlara and I shared a quiet dinner.

* * *

We had finished eating and were passing the time with conversation that amounted to very little. I was hoping there might be news about the bandits’ loot tomorrow, but if not I planned to return to the Archive. Ashlara would likely leave the city for a walk - city crowds unsettled her, and she had no desire to spend the entire day cooped up in an inn room. We also briefly talked about looking for another job, just to pad our purses a bit in case of emergencies.

That was when the man approached.

He wasn’t subtle - he was far too drunk for that. He hadn’t bothered to hide the hostile looks he’d been sending our way all evening. Or his distaste for orcs that crept across the dining room, along with his remarks about the two of us. His friends laughed whenever they thought he’d come up with a particularly clever insult at Ashlara’s expense.

We did our best to ignore it. Despite the anger, the self-consciousness, and the sadness I could see her fighting to keep off her face. Despite the fact that every instinct I had was screaming at me to walk over there and beat the shit out of that asshole. Ashlara didn’t need me to protect her - but that didn’t stop me from wanting to.

“Ya know,” he slurred as he slammed his hands onto our table, “I thought I smelt somethin’ when I came in ‘ere.” Drool spilled from his mouth and dribbled on the tabletop, completely unnoticed by him. “Looks like someone took a green shit an’ left it ‘ere.” His gaze settled on Ashlara. She met it with cold, furious defiance.

Before she could respond, I spoke. “We don’t want any trouble. Go back to your friends.”

He turned toward me, his eyes lagging a moment behind his head. “If ya didn’ want any trouble, ya shouldn’ta come in ‘ere wit’ an orc.” Spit flecked my face as he spoke.

I stood and reached for Adhaneth, where it leaned against the wall beside me. He slapped his hand down on it, as though that alone could keep it from moving.

I smiled sadistically and released my grip. “Please,” I said, my voice pleading despite the malice in my eyes. “Just give me my staff back and we’ll leave.”

“Ya wan’ this thing back?” He grinned like a bully - completely sure of his dominance in a situation. He gave the staff a sharp tug, expecting it to come free. It didn’t move. He yanked again, harder, with the same result.

“Yeah, please,” I said, leaning into the act. “My father gave me that staff,” I lied.

I saw his muscles tense as he adjusted his grip. As he pulled with everything he had, I shifted my foot just enough to touch the base of Adhaneth.

The staff snapped back with brutal ****, smashing into his face. I heard the crack of his nose before he hit the floor. He landed hard on his back, his head striking the boards as he screamed and cursed. I moved my foot away, breaking contact - and the enchantment took hold.

When he realized he couldn’t get up - that the simple length of wood pinning him to the floor might as well have been a boulder - he panicked. He thrashed and screamed, shoving uselessly at the staff. Chairs scraped as his friends surged to their feet - five of them, the same men who had laughed and encouraged him all night.

Two tried to haul him up and failed. Three others stepped between him and me. Several patrons made for the exit. The servers disappeared into the kitchen. The innkeeper reached beneath the bar.

“I think the lady deserves an apology,” I said calmly.

The man on the floor answered with a curse - and then a cry of pain.

Something shifted. Not in the room, but somewhere deeper. Or perhaps farther away. Anger - not mine. Adhaneth’s?

I focused on it. The staff wasn’t just holding him in place. It was pressing down. Was that even possible?

I’d felt hints of this before. The way it responded when I called it. The first time I threw it and felt something resist the arc, as if it had a will of its own - something I had to persuade rather than command. Was this the same thing?

“I’m waiting,” I said.

He ground his teeth, straining uselessly against the crushing pressure.

His companions drew knives. Ashlara stood, axe in hand.

“That would be a very bad decision,” I said. I called Adhaneth back to my grasp. “Get out of here. If I see you again, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

They didn’t argue. They dragged their bloodied friend to his feet and staggered out of the inn.

I crossed to the bar and set three silver coins down in front of the innkeeper, whose hand still hadn’t left whatever lay beneath the counter. “Sorry about the commotion,” I said.

Ashlara and I went upstairs without another word.