“ . . . No clue to where?’

  “‘Fraid not.”

  “She’s not going to be happy . . .”

  “Edard thought she was dead. He had no reason to stay.”

  Edard? Vel’s eyes flew open, heart jumping forward at the name. Blinking away blurriness, she found herself in a relatively small room that’d been crammed with three cots. Hers was directly against the far wall from the door, Sigurd’s was at the other end, leaving one cot between them.

  He looked better, more color to his face, but wore a grim expression. His dire hazel eyes stared at Vel with lips downturned. Pennant, who sat on the center cot, turned to her.

  “Ah,” he said, adjusting his spectacles. “You heard that, did you?”

  “Edard?” Vel croaked. With a stiff arm, she pushed herself upright, a thin fleece falling from over her form.

  “He left, Velmira,” Sigurd said.

  “Left?” Left me? she thought, an old fear striking her as it did once before. No! she retaliated. He didn’t leave me, they tried to kill him! “Because he thought I was dead,” she said factually, piecing together the puzzle. Yes, she knew her Edard━never would she doubt him again.

  “Yes,” Pennant said. “He didn’t say where to. I did, however, direct him towards the Wayward Company. It’s a trading caravan that came through here five days ago, and they’re known for picking up stragglers that have nowhere left to go.”

  “They’ve passed through before━someone’s bound to know their route, just━” Sigurd grunted, pushing himself up. Pennant shook his head, placing a hand on the hunter’s shoulder to force him back down.

  “You need more rest,” the healer scolded.

  Sigurd sighed, but nodded. “Ask around. Someone’s bound to know where the company went.”

  “Neither of you should be up and moving around,” Pennant said.

  “I have to,” Vel said, the words spilling out before she’d even thought them up.

  With a dismayed expression, the healer moved around the cot to sit facing her. He clasped his hands together, and gave Vel a haggard look. “Has no one taught you the limitations of magic?” he asked.

  “Will they prevent me from finding out where Edard went?” Vel asked.

  “Yes and no. You used too much magic yesterday, more than your body could support. All magic has a cost, each specific to the power, and some more severe than others. There are signs to the limitations, but left unheeded, you will faint again, or worse.”

  “I believe I have discovered this already. I’m awake now, I can━”

  “Try standing up, lass,” Pennant interjected.

  Vel furrowed her brow, certain there was a point he was getting to. She shifted, muscles aching and bones popping, and once her feet touched the ground, a grimace played across her face. Yes, there was a point. She was stiff as stone, and when she stood, it was as if all her bones and muscles locked into place. Legs completely frozen in place, Vel groaned and ran her stiff hands down her face.

  Pennant placed a supporting hand on her upper back, and with his other, he slowly pushed her back onto the cot. It took a moment for her knees to unlock, creaking as the joint rotated.

  “Why?” she asked, “Why does magic do this?”

  “We don’t exactly know,” Pennant said. “However, it has been speculated that your stats play a part in how magic affects you, and certain skills can be of assistance as well. Nonetheless, no matter how high your stats, there is a point at which magic can still be overused.”

  “And some magic has worse costs than others?” Vel asked, considering how [rock throw] didn’t necessarily inhibit her in some way. Rather, she could use its cost as an advantage.

  Pennant gave a nod.

  “Okay, so . . .” Vel hummed, frowning. “I’m not using magic right now, so why am I still suffering a cost?”

  “Normally, taking frequent breaks in magic use mitigates such severe consequences. No breaks, however, may have more lasting effects. For now, sleep, stretching, and maybe a massage might help.”

  Right, but I already slept, Vel huffed. No way was she going to just sit here and wait while Edard moved further and further away. Placing her legs back up on the bed, she leaned towards her toes. The tightness that inhibited her movement felt awful! Persisting, however, loosened sore muscles bit by bit.

  Vel looked at Sigurd, mid stretch. “Once I can walk, I’ll go look for information.”

  “In that?” Sigurd asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Vel looked down at herself. Right. She wore nothing but tattered undergarments and a jerkin that was barely keeping it together.

  “My wife will be back from the market soon. She might have something to spare,” Pennant said, then scratched his chin. “Actually, upon your recovery, perhaps you can trade me some of your silk for a dress?”

  “My silk?”

  “Yes, that rope you made in the mines was of superb quality. A handkerchief for my wife would be sufficient.”

  “Don’t I already owe you for healing us?” Vel asked.

  “You’re a lousy negotiator,” Sigurd grumbled, eyes closed, as if he was going to get more rest. “The old man’s already sifted through my pockets for loose change.”

  Pennant smiled. “My services have already been paid for.”

  “Vel,” Sigurd said, opening his eyes. “Do you even know how much silk sells for?”

  Vel shook her head.

  “More than his healing cost me, and plenty more than a dress. Why do you think he’s asking for just a handkerchief?”

  “Because my [create silk] skill isn’t a high enough level for much more?”

  “The t━” Sigurd paused, giving Pennant a distrusting side eye, one that reminded Vel that it was probably better that these people didn’t know who she was. “Your parents really taught you nothing, did they,” he said, looking at her with narrowed eyes and a nod, expecting.

  “They didn’t think it wise for me to handle money until I was older.”

  Sigurd gave a small smile. He looked at the healer, and said, “How about she makes you a silk handkerchief for the dress and the heals, and you give me my money back.”

  “Two handkerchiefs,” Pennant held up his thumb and forefinger.

  “A handkerchief and a spool of thread,” Sigurd bartered.

  “Deal.” Pennant looked back at Vel. “When you’re feeling better, of course. Wait until your muscles have relaxed before using magic again.” He patted Vel’s shoulder, then stood up. “I’ll let you two rest.” Finally, the healer left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Vel,” Sigurd said, grunting as he pushed himself upright. Then he huffed and relaxed back again, his expression conveying the second thoughts he had about getting up. “We need to leave sooner rather than later. I get the feeling we can’t trust this guy━Edard never told him who you are.”

  “You’re in no shape to leave,” Vel said.

  “I will be after he finishes healing me,” Sigurd said.

  “He didn’t finish?”

  The hunter shook his head. “He said he had to take a break. I still have a few bad gashes. The worst of it has already been healed.”

  “Okay, so how do I find out where we’re leaving to?”

  “Depends on how many priests are crawling the streets looking for you. We can ask the old man’s wife if she knows anything about the Wayward Company’s route. Otherwise, anyone who purchases from them would know, or perhaps vendors in the marketplace. Alternatively, if those are closed out . . .” Sigurd looked towards the window, the afternoon sun lighting the room, “by the time we can get out of here, our best chance might be asking around in a tavern. Just don’t go without me.”

  “Do you think he’s probably heading to that place you spoke of previously?” Vel asked.

  “Ymrillia?” Sigurd asked, Vel nodding. “That’s my best guess.”

  She couldn’t imagine Edard going back to the army after everything that happened. Not to mention that the military probably wouldn’t let him back in anyways, given that the military served the country and the country served the church.

  Please be safe, Vel thought, continuing to stretch. She mulled over Edard for a good portion of her time spent stretching, and once she’d thoroughly beaten that subject with a mental club, she moved onto something that didn’t sadden her quite as much━she pulled up her stat sheet.

  [Name: Velmira]

  [Class: Dark Avenger]

  [Level: 1

  [Age: 18]

  [Stats]

  [Strength: 1.5]

  [Dexterity: 3.5]

  [Constitution: 2.5]

  [Acuity: 0.5]

  [Magic: 3.5]

  If Pennant was right about other stats playing a role in the costs of her magic, Vel could already see a correlation. She assumed, given her stiffness, that her [dexterity] had something to do with [create silk], [sticky thread], and [webshot]. Somehow that made sense to her, given how many more times she could use those skills than [fireball] before suffering severe consequences.

  [Fireball], seeing as it sucked up her heat, probably needed a higher constitution stat to sustain as much as her webs were. But what about [rock throw]? Vel wondered, furrowing her brow. It was a skill that used her body weight against her, and the cost was minimal. Or maybe . . .

  If my strength stat was higher, would it always throw me? she thought, and saved that idea to test later as she laid down.

  Her muscles were still sore, but at least they weren’t so tight. While she thought she could sleep more, she was deterred by it when she heard doors opening and closing. Pushing herself up, she moved to the door, and heard Pennant’s voice along with an elderly woman’s before she even placed her hand on the handle.

  The door creaked as she opened it, revealing a small dining room and kitchen that the house’s front door led straight into. Pennant and a silver haired woman looked her way.

  “You walked,” Pennant said.

  Vel glanced back at her cot, then down to her feet, and back up to the healer. “I suppose I did,” she said, not having realized just how much stretching helped already.

  “By the gods, child!” the woman exclaimed, “Have you nothing proper to wear?”

  A warmth came to Vel’s cheeks, and she gave an innocent smile. “It’s been a rough couple of days,” she said, though a voice in the back of her head called out, Couple?!

  No. She did not want to think how many days it’d been already.

  “Yes, dear,” Pennant started, “as I was saying, do you have any dresses to spare?”

  “Oh, hmm,” the woman turned around, entering a door on the opposite side of the house. Vel stepped out from her room, slowly closing the door behind her, then followed after. From what she could tell, this home was a small three-room home. At least she had half a brain not to ask if it was the normal size for homes━a normal person would know that already.

  “Let’s see here,” the woman said, and walked out of her room with not only a dress, but a new set of undergarments as well. “You’re a bit tall to fit into one of my dresses, but my late daughter was of a similar stature.”

  Vel accepted the garments as they were offered to her, then looked up into the woman’s gray eyes. “Late daughter?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

  “Cati was her name. Loved this dark green,” the woman ran a hand over the neatly folded dress, a smile accompanied with a far off look on her face. “Gave me three grandsons, you know. Sweet little rascals. Died in childbirth.”

  “Did the child survive?” Vel asked.

  “Sadly, no. Too many complications. Now then, come on, lets get you changed and do something about your hair?”

  “My hair?” Vel asked, cringing. Oh no. What could her hair possibly look like now?

  It didn’t take long for her to find out after the elderly woman ushered her into the room and closed the door. After she was changed with a bit of help━embarrassingly, Vel didn’t know how to tie a proper bow at the collar━the elderly woman sat her down in front of a vanity mirror.

  Vel turned white, pale as the clouds in the sky themselves!

  “My hair looks awful!” she exclaimed, receiving a chuckle from the woman.

  “Nothing a bit of brushing won’t fix. Now, you don’t have lice, do you?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Trust me, you’d know, dear.” The elderly woman picked up a wooden brush, and pulled Vel’s braid free. She was gentle as she started at the ends. “What brought you to my husband?” she asked.

  “Spiders,” Vel said. “Big ones.”

  “From the mines?”

  “You know about them?”

  “Yes. Those guards at the mines aren’t just for show. Things sneak out from time to time. Certainly gives my husband good job security.” The woman smiled at Vel through the mirror.

  “Yeah,” Vel said. “What’s your name?”

  “Iona. Most call me Mama Rosie around here though. Been growing them roses out front since my first born was a wee baby.”

  “I’ll have to give them a look when I get the chance.”

  “Oh, I’d appreciate that. Now then, what were you doing in the mines?”

  “A bear chased us in, my companion and I. We didn’t wait it out, and went all the way through,” Vel lied.

  “Good heavens, child, a bear?” Rosie asked. “A normal bear?”

  “No, more dangerous, with fire.”

  “A dire bear. It’s a good thing you escaped that! Where were you traveling to to begin with?”

  “Here, Limone.”

  Iona finished brushing through Vel’s hair, which for once, finally looked so nice. Unbelievably so. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, she thought. It’s just hair. She managed to hold the tears in, though they would have been tears of relief. Why did she care about her hair so much?

  “Will you be doing more traveling?” Rosie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Let me get you some pins and a hair comb.” Rosie opened a drawer in the vanity, then pulled out a few hair pins and a plain wooden comb. “Have you put your hair up with this before?”

  “No,” Vel said.

  After receiving a long lesson and making a few attempts, Vel had her hair twisted up and secured into place on the back of her head. She smiled, amazed by the object.

  “Thank you,” Vel said, and standing up, she looked at herself one last time, even running her hands over the dark green fabric twice. She felt like a proper woman again. “I have something to make you before we’re done here.”

  “To make?” Rosie asked.

  Vel hovered her hands over the desk. She’d only managed to make threads with [create silk] so far━thick ones at that━but she envisioned smaller ones locking together, interwoven. Already, she could feel her body stiffening at the attempt, and the threads materialized, stretching from her fingers until they were the length Vel expected of a handkerchief.

  [Create Silk level 43]

  [Create Silk level 44]

  [Create Silk level 45]

  [Create Silk level 46]

  [Create Silk level 47]

  Collapsing back to her chair, the handkerchief sat before Vel, the threads locked so tightly that she wasn’t concerned about it fraying. She picked it up, and while she was stiff, she could still move. Turning on the stool, she handed the handkerchief to Rosie.

  “This is amazing,” Rosie said, awe twinkling in her gray eyes.

  “Do you have an empty spool?” Vel asked next.

  From another drawer in the vanity, Rosie retrieved a well-loved wooden spool. Taking it, Vel made a continuous thick thread, being slow and intentional so that she wrapped it around the spool in its entirety.

  [Create Silk level 48]

  Once that was complete, she handed the spool to Rosie as well, then stood back up and tossed her right arm across her chest to stretch a tight shoulder.

  “Thank you,” Rosie smiled.

  A knock came to the door, and Rosie opened it up, Pennant holding a parchment on the other side. He wore an inquisitive look, adjusting his spectacles as he glanced at Vel first, then looked at his wife.

  “A delivery boy came by with news,” Pennant said, handing the parchment to Rosie.

  Vel moved towards them, and as she did, Rosie snapped her eyes up to Vel. Pennant grabbed Rosie’s arm, and pulled her from the room.

  “Wait!” Vel rushed to them, the door slamming shut in her face. Her heart plummeted, a sick feeling coming to her stomach. They know, they have to know! she thought, trying to pry the door open, but someone was holding it shut on the other side.

  “Quickly, Rosie, retrieve a priest!”