Slay the Dragon

CHAPTER 21 - MAVE

MAVE KEPT ON LOSING every single round. Why? She was too distracted by those eyes … those stupid, golden eyes staring at her. Seriously, what’s his problem? It made her extremely conscious of her face, wondering if something was wrong with it.

Every time she caught Erys watching her, he would avoid her eyes immediately and pretend to look at the skies, while speaking with his older friend or father or whoever that old man was. She swore she would stab those eyes with Gray Viper if he wouldn’t stop staring.

Sweat trickled down her face, down to her neck as her breath shortened, her throat drying out. Mave had been sparring with Vahlyr for several rounds now, as she wanted to master her ability in creating ice weapons. So far, she could already cast much quicker than before. She also found out that it must come with two conditions. One, her blood flow had to be fast enough, as the quicker the blood flowed, the easier and faster it would be for her to cast a replica. Second, the weapon she desired to copy had to be actually seen by her eyes, except if she already memorized every detail of the weapon in her mind.

However, one problem troubled her—the ice swords were not strong enough to strike against actual weapons. It kept on breaking and shattering into pieces every time Vahlyr would give heavy blows with his saber.

“Had enough, coldheart?” Vahlyr twisted a smirk after owning the match again.  

Mave could feel her heart racing like a galloping stallion—her blood like a wild current rushing endlessly through her pulsing veins. “One more …” She cast another ice rapier to replace the one that had just been broken.

“Mave, you’re pushing yourself too much,” Izan said as he watched them from the side.

“Screw it. She’s pushing more bounty to me,” Vahlyr winked at him, “It’s ten coppers now, mate.”

“I’m fine,” Mave told Izan. “I just need to work harder—” She winced and held her right chest as the pain severed. She was close to dropping both swords. Her headache worsened in fast throbbing pain as her blood ran wilder than before. This was not normal anymore.

“You need to stop now, Mave. Look at you,” Izan said, glancing at her worriedly from head to toe.

Mave wiped the sweat on her forehead using her forearm, then she saw; her veins completely visible from the back of her hands to her elbows. When she touched her neck, she could feel it too, then to her face, and to her forehead. Every pulse was quick and painful.

“She looks fine to me,” Vahlyr said.

“Will you stop making a fool of others for their money?” Izan glared at the sellsword. The next, he walked towards Mave and handed her his waterskin to drink.

Vahlyr shrugged. “I ain’t makin’ a fool of anyone, mate. The lady asked to give her a piece of me, so I did—but with pay, of course.”

Mave dried out the waterskin because of her mad thirst. Her body needed more, but the water had done its job well enough.

“You need a lot of water to provide oxygen in your blood, Mave. Don’t forget that,” Izan informed her, “Now you rest.”

Mave wiped her mouth and then returned the empty waterskin to him. “I can’t. I have to practice more.”

“Later! I said,” Izan grabbed her wrist and raised it between them, “Can’t you see those veins? From the looks of it, they would burst if you continue giving pressure.”

Mave let out a huge breath as she took her arms back. Her entire body fell into ringing exhaustion. When she raised her head to look up, the beast was again staring at her. This time, however, his face seemed more frustrated than before. But she couldn’t care less. As long as she would keep her distance from those dragons, she’d be fine.

Mave picked up her rapier and sheathed it back.

“Ye’ done already? C’mmon, coldheart. We still haven’t reached fifteen coppers.”

Mave shifted her gaze to Vahlyr’s double swords. She wondered if those, too, were Empyreal Weapons. “Where did you get the sabers?” she asked him. She bet he had stolen them, but she kept her mouth shut.

Vahlyr paused in the middle of sheathing his swords, then he lifted an eyebrow to her. With no response, he crossed his arms and flattened his lips, refusing to answer.

Mave turned to Izan after realizing what the sellsword wanted. The chronicler sighed and dug his hands through his pocket, then pulled out a copper sunlar.

“An island quest,” Vahlyr took the coin from Izan’s hand, “Had some pirate mates before, and my old man, a pirate lord and all. We found these on an island. It didn’t fit with anyone but me, so I took it. End of story.”

“So how did you learn to use its Empyreal Ability?” she asked.

Vahlyr c****d his head, “What?”

“The blazing swords you used against me. What is it then?”

“Ah, my Trump Card, you mean.”

“It’s not a trump card. It’s called an Empyreal Ability,” Izan corrected him.

“Huh,” Vahlyr shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, that’s not how I call it.”

“How did you discover its ability?” Mave said.

“Just by the name,” Vahlyr replied. “I spoke the name of these sabers by accident when I saw it the first time.”

“Where did you find the name?” Mave wanted to know. If her blood was indeed an Empyreal Weapon, then it might have a name too.

Vahlyr pulled one of his sabers. The handle was dark-red, carved with fish scales—both guards had a fishtail form, and the long blade was silver and curved.

He showed them the carved writing on the blade near the guard.

“Twin Blades of Agaski?” Mave muttered.

“Aye,” Vahlyr ran his fingers along the surface of the steel, his cognac eyes still admiring its beauty, “Agaski was the first to use these blades. Old fishers and folks have a tale of him. He was a fisherman before, Agaski, living a simple life when one day his village was attacked by the vile nagas, you know, sea serpents. He wanted revenge, so he asked Velarir—the God of Light and Fire—to bless him with the strength to fight for justice. Velarir told Agaski that if he would catch the Horlar—the burning fish—then he would give the fisherman more than what he had asked.

“On that day, Agaski left to sail with his fishing boat to search for the Horlar. Took him years, I guess … some folks have told me he even sailed around the world before he found and caught the burning fish under the sea,” Vahlyr paused to give them a side grin, “Believe me or not, mates, the flames of that fish was alive and blazing, despite being submerged in the waters. He brought it to Velarir, and the God gave him these blades in the form of Horlar. After that, Agaski went to kill the vile nagas who murdered his family … the man became a hero, protecting other villages from those serpents. And like the burning fish, the flames of these blades are immune to water … and every kind.”

Vahlyr sheathed back his saber. “There you have it, mates. All things have names. Every name has life itself, it carries a story, as what my father always tells me … that old pirate lord …” he trailed off, smiling, shaking his head.

“What an interesting tale.” Izan nodded thoughtfully. “I will have to write that one. Mind telling me the story again later?”

Vahlyr’s smile became wicked. “Still gonna cost you. How ‘bout that?”

As the two negotiated, Mave frowned at herself. What about hers? Where in the world could she find the name of her own blood? Did her blood even have a story at all?

“Are they really that important?” Mave spoke, dragging the two men down into silence. “I mean … are names really needed to access the weapon’s magic?

“That’s exactly what I’ve been telling you before,” Izan told Mave, “Empyreal Abilities can be activated by calling the name of the weapon. In fact, their names originated from the actual names of the first wielders, like Agaski, during the Age of the Empyreal Gods.”

“How does it work?”

Izan seemed to be more interested now in the topic. “There are two steps in unlocking an Empyreal Ability, Mave. The first is to speak the Command which is composed of two lines. If you remember Vahlyr using the Command before he unleashed his ability, you’ll know.”

Mave turned to Vahlyr. “Can you say it again?”

Vahlyr shrugged, “I call upon to open your doors, a quarter of my soul becomes yours.”

“You see?” Izan said, “Two lines. The second step is to call the name of your weapon. Empyreal Abilities are both simple and complicated to understand. Basically, the weapon unites with your inner being. Michaelo Bordani called it—Soul Transfusion.”

“Huh,” Vahlyr gave another of his blunt snort, “Another make-up bluffs.”

Izan turned to him, lifting an eyebrow. “Bluffs? Do you think my ten years of studying at the University of Celestia is only a bluff? All information I’m giving here is based on facts, sellsword. I’ve read countless books more than the total numbers your dirty money combined.”

“So ye’ think your facts can feed you? Can they buy you medicine for your sick mother? Pay for your dead father’s debts? Bail out your imprisoned family?” Vahlyr spat. “The world revolves around money, mate. Those who have more will always have the power to control people who have less.”

Izan shook his head, his face showing pity. “You’re underestimating the power of knowledge. It’s beyond limitless compared to money—“

“Can we just go back to the main point?” Mave interrupted, her patience running out. “What is this Soul Transfusion you’re talking about?”

Izan paid Vahlyr a warning glare before answering. “It’s the primary key to unlock the Empyreal Ability. You see, calling the weapon’s name indeed triggers the awakening of its powers—however, it needs a catalyst. This is where your soul energy comes in to use.”

“My soul energy? How do I use it?”

“It’s not that easy, Mave. For you to understand, first, you need to know the basics of Ethereal Trinity … or the Three Pillars of the Soul … which was introduced by Bordani himself. According to him, our souls’ existence has three components—the body, the mind, and the emotion. We have our bodies as the soul projecting itself physically… our minds as the soul projecting itself mentally … and our emotions as the language of the soul as a way of perceiving itself. The soul is our inner being, but all ethereal. These three must integrate to achieve Soul Transfusion.”

Mave massaged her temples. Hearing these only made her headache worse. She didn’t expect that understanding her powers would be this complicated. “So if I learn how to do it, then I can activate my Empyreal Ability?”

Izan nodded. “An amount of your soul energy will be absorbed by your Empyreal Weapon, thus unleashing its power.”

“An amount?” Mave asked, furrowing her brows. “Why can’t I just use my entire soul?”

Izan’s lips curved into a smile. “Haven’t you noticed it in the second line of the Command?”

Mave trailed off, remembering the line. “A quarter of my soul becomes yours …” she mumbled to herself.

“That’s correct. You see, there is a rule. The first line of the command must be consistent. But in the second one, you must specify how much soul energy you want your weapon to use. A quarter, a third, or half of your soul.”

“Why not full?” Mave asked.

“You’ll die, of course! Think about it. The process itself is extremely dangerous—one mistake could be lethal … one wrong word could harm you. It’s your soul and your own existence you are gambling here.

“If the weapon is destroyed by your opponent while it’s still under the ability, it’ll also destroy the amount of soul energy it has in it for good. The consequences will vary. You can lose your memories, your emotions, or a part of your body—worst, you can die. The same goes with overusing your Empyreal Ability. It could drain your soul out of your body that will eventually lead to death. That’s why wielders only use their abilities once every few days at most … or none at all. The soul needs to recover after its use.”  

“Right,” Mave said, though she understood only half of it, “So how do I learn it? Where do I start?”

“Don’t listen to him … he’s only making it sound harder,” Vahlyr told her, cutting in, “It’s easy. Just tell it to take a quarter … the best ratio that is. You shouldn’t go beyond that. Why? You’ll still need more soul energy for your body than for your weapon … that is if you want to survive longer … Then call your weapon’s name and ta-da, the Trump Card comes out.”

Mave frowned, glancing at her hands. She almost forgot that she’d never known the name of her curse. “But if I don’t know the name, then can I give it a new one?”

Vahlyr gave her a look of disbelief. “Wait, you saying you don’t know your rapier’s name?”

“It’s not her rapier,” Izan said. “It’s her blood.”

“Her what?” Vahlyr looked at them both, then he threw his hands up. “Hell, that’s it. I’m done here. Make sure ye’ pay me ten coppers,” he said before turning around to walk towards Erys.

“It’s not possible to change it, Mave,” Izan continued. “The name of the weapon is engraved from the day it was given by the gods.”

“But how will I know my blood’s name? Does it even have a name? I told you, it’s a curse,” Mave said.

“Call it whatever you want. But the fact that you’re able to create these ice weapons makes all sense.”

Mave sighed. She turned around and went to sit on the big roots under the shade of an oak tree. “It’s still no use if I can’t call out its name.”

Izan came to sit beside her. Then he thought for a moment, leaving the air dead silent. “Maybe there is a way. If you got your powers from one of your parents, then you might have heard them say its name before. Try to remember.”

“I can’t,” Mave replied right away.

“Why not?”

“I … I can’t remember anything.” Her eyes fell to the ground. It’s not that she couldn’t remember, it’s just … she didn’t want to remember anything about it. Her dark past had been haunting her, chasing her wherever she went. She was scared. Her fear would consume her and bring back all the trauma. Her entire life she had avoided recalling every bit of memory from her parents. And she’s fine with little or nothing to remember at all.

“Wait.” Izan opened his backpack and, later on, pulled out a notepad. “I’ve read a book before—back in my country and took some notes out of it. Here,” he said, pointing at a page. “It’s called Meditation Memory Recall.”

“Will that help me remember?”

“It might. Basically, you’ll have to meditate and try to remember anything from your parents … their faces, voices, anything. Then you focus on an unforgettable scene with them. Let it play in your mind … it will slowly expand. You see, the memories in our heads are always linked to each other. If you unlock a memory, then you can slowly unlock the others, one at a time.”

Mave swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d been running away to avoid her past, and now she’s turning around to face it. What if she panicked again? What if she lost control? Even so, she still wanted to discover the mystery of her ability. This might help her accept everything and take away her fear for good.

“Can you do it?” Izan asked, looking worried.

“I … I think I can.” Mave pursed her lips after. She positioned herself for meditation with the help of Izan, following whatever steps his notes had said. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and started to recall her parents. She knew they had black hair and blue eyes like her, and so she pictured it out in her mind. It’s all darkness she could see, but visualizing her parents’ faces was like visualizing the form of her rapier.

Seconds later, Mave imagined herself standing on a snow road, with the winds of winter sending chills on her skin. The gloomy, gray clouds showered a gentle snowfall. Wooden houses surrounded her, roofs all covered in snow, people walking in their winter garments. Then she knew. She was back in her village.

When Mave studied the cold environment around, she thought she saw a familiar couple, then her eyes spread wide open. Her parents were there, their backs turned on her. They seemed to be looking at the skies, with tiny snowflakes sprinkling on their raven-black hair.

She froze in shock at seeing them, her breath taken away, but she managed to call them out.

Her parents turned around to look; their faces showed much of a resemblance to her own. She had her father’s aurora-blue eyes and her mother’s black hair.

“Mave, why are you still here?” her father asked, his bearded face painted confusion.

“We told you to go hunt in the woods,” her mother added. “You’ll only get burned here, my dear.” Then her lips drew a sad smile.

“Burned?” All of a sudden, Mave’s ears caught the flapping sound of wings behind her. She flinched at the deafening screech … A dragon, she realized.

She was about to turn around when her mother said, “Don’t look, my dear. Don’t look.” Her smile never faded.

Mave blinked, storming her eyebrows, having no idea what her mother’s talking about. But she knew the dragon was coming to burn them …

And it was right behind her now …

She could hear it …

She could feel it …

Suddenly she was scared.

“Slay the dragon, Mave,” her father said for the last time. “Remember who you are … where you came from …”

Then it all took one blink before an ocean of fire devoured her parents, red flames drowning them and her entire village.

“NOOO!” Mave reached out to them, but she was too late. She looked around in horror. Then she noticed—flames surrounded her like the biggest and deepest ocean, and she was the tiny fish; alone, lost, afraid. She couldn’t breathe. What’s happening? Why was the fire not burning her alive? Why did it have to t*****e her this slowly?

“Mave … Mave … Mave!”

She squeezed her eyes shut, as she couldn’t handle the sight of the flames. Her blood surged once again, heart beating faster … and faster … and faster …

“Mave, WAKE UP!”

Mave snapped her eyes open, panting. She found Erys and the others standing in front of her, each giving a worried look.

“Son of a biscuit,” Vahlyr cursed under his breath, “It’s her blood indeed.”

“Mave,” Izan said, his voice trembling.  

Mave turned to him, only to see his hand frozen by his touch in her arms.

“Oh, no …” She quickly took her arm off his hold, crawled back away from him, then hugged her knees.

Izan winced, shivering. “The cold’s killing me.” His palm and his fingers were pale and blue, covered by a layer of white frost.

“Come here, quick,” Erys reached out to hold the chronicler’s hands. The burning heat of his touch was enough to slowly melt the frost. Water dripped down as white mist flew up.

“I’m … I’m sorry,” Mave held her pounding chest, “I can’t do it … I … I can’t …”

“What happened? What have you done to her?” Erys glared at Izan, his hold squeezing into a grip while still heating the chronicler’s hand.

“Don’t give me that look, man,” he said. “I was only trying to help her remember her past.”

Mave wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes. She couldn’t do it. Her fear had been blocking her from digging into her memories ever since. But what was that smile her mother had shown to her? Why would she smile during the last few seconds of her life?

“Slay the dragon, Mave … Remember who you are … where you came from …” her father’s voice echoed in her head. Was it really a memory? Because as far as she could remember, it was Rakim who had told her to slay the dragon. It must’ve been her imagination. It wasn’t real, but only her fear. And she would never try doing it ever again. She could’ve hurt Izan more, or worse, killed him because of her curse.  

“It’s fine …” Mave said. “I don’t need my Empyreal Ability, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Izan asked. “Maybe we can take it slowly next time … and try again—“

“No,” she cut off, raising her voice, “I said no. I don’t want to face it anymore, okay?”

“Face what?” Erys said, his worried eyes studying her, but she didn’t respond.

“It’s your fear, isn’t it?” Izan lowered his voice into a whisper.

“Her fear?”

Izan sighed. “It’s one of the greatest hindrances in uniting the three pillars of the soul. You see, fear corrupts the mind, prevents the body from taking actions, and takes control over the emotions. If you won’t try overcoming your fear, Mave, you won’t remember anything from your past.”