The Novel's Sidekick

Yeriel woke to find a smiling face greeting her. The moment her mind came to recognition, her body tried to jolt away, however, a powerful arm clung to her hard, rendering all her effort futile.

“Now that’s just hurtful,” William said, biting his lower lip, showing a hurtful expression. “All I did was drugged you a little. Trust me, I had no bad intention.”

Yeriel didn’t listen to him or just didn’t care. She was about to cast a spell, only to notice her channels were still sealed. She couldn’t even hold a trickle of spirit energy, much less cast a spell. However, there’s still something she could try, all that matters were her willingness, or how effective it would be.

“So full of energy,” William said, letting go of her arm, as Yeriel jolted back against the wall, chest heaving up and down in panic. “That’s why I like you.”

Yeriel calmed her breathing and looked around to find the familiar place, though it was wrecked badly in the time she passed out. There were holes in the ceilings, spreading chilly air with snow into the room. The wooden walls were damaged with black scarred burned marks in them. Even though the camp seemed to hold off for now, she was not sure how long it would stay that way.

Then she noticed Lord Kirien, standing across from her with his sword at his side, eyes weary, face pale with blood leaking from his mouth and nostrils. Noticing her gaze, the elderly Knight looked away and didn’t meet her gaze. However, Yeriel had a glimpse of his eyes. That look in his eyes told that he had failed, and something more. Guilt.

Yeriel took a deep breath and found the sick lady on the bed to return to her capturer. “What do you want with me?” she found herself asking.

“Straight to the point, I like you,” William said, laughing. “What I want is to liberate you, but before that, you need to complete a task first.”

“Never,” Yeriel said at once, her voice particularly clear. “I won’t do any of your biddings.”

“Even when it’s curing that poor lady over there?”

Yeriel’s mouth hung open as she stared back and forth between the warlock and her patient. What kind of game he is playing, she thought. She couldn’t make out anything from Lord Kirien’s expression either, that the elderly knight was not particularly helpful for not meeting her eyes. What really happened after she passed out? Even though she had never encountered a warlock before, she had heard stories, and she was old enough to know a warlock like William rarely does anything without motives.

William smirked. “Why, you don’t want to heal her?” he asked, still with his grin. “Well, that would save a lot of my time. I’ve taken an oath, but if the healer doesn’t want to heal, it has nothing to do with me. Isn’t that right, Lord Kirien?”

The elderly Knight’s face, which was pale red, turned grotesque, hearing William. “Lady Yeriel,” he called, “I . . .”

“Come on, let’s leave this old pair of husband-wife to die,” William said, trying to pull Yeriel’s arm yet again. “We have a lot more important stuff to do.”

Yeriel yelped again, trying hard to fend off William, however, her strength was minuscule with the weakness she was feeling to get her freedom.

“Lady Yeriel, please,” Lord Kirien called, bowing his head against the cold floor. “Please save my wife, please . . .”

“Huh, look at this hypocrite,” the warlock mocked, his grip on Yeriel’s arm softened. “Face full of guilt and shame. I was right, I know a hypocrite when I see one. Lady Yeriel, how hard you worked to cure his family, yet so easily he gave up on you, on his duty, just to cure his wife. You would be better off leaving people like him, Lady Yeriel.”

Getting her chance, Yeriel fended off William’s arm. “I will heal,” she said, jaw clenching hard.

William’s eyes widened. “Why?” he asked, “Didn’t you hear, the knight sold you out to cure his loved one?”

Yeriel ignored his question and stared into his eyes. Her conviction strengthened. She didn’t know what William’s end game was, what he was intending to do with her after he finishes, why was he even trying hard to make sure she hates Lord Kirien, but for this particular moment, she didn’t care. All she cared about was healing her patient.

“What did you agree upon?”

William flinched and looked away from her stare. “Well, I agreed to let you cure the poor lady and would have nothing to do with her or Lord Kirien. In return, Lord Kirien won’t fight me when I take you away. This old fool was quite through with his oath, didn’t leave any hole for me to exploit. Well, either way, it’s only you that I want. You’re precious to me, to my plan.”

Yeriel felt sick in her stomach, but nodded with a masked expression. She knew about oaths; when two spirit practitioners took agreed on an oath, an ethereal binding was placed on their soul, and that binding stayed in place for eternity or until the agreement is met. These oaths are only applicable to Spirit practitioners, and breaking the oaths would put the oathbreaker in a hazardous situation, as his spirit arts and energy wouldn’t work as before and soon he would start to lose potential. That was why, in the academy, they were taught to take oaths seriously and take no oaths on a whim.

“I would need my channel free to concoct the cure,” she said with a straight face.

“Do you?” William said, tilting his head, “Apologies, Precious, I won’t do that. You're still a threat.”

Lord Kirien, who was feeling relief just now, grunted angrily. “William, you promised . . .”

“Did I?” William snorted. “Did I promise to free her? Besides, I don’t think she needs her channels free to concoct a cure, and if it's a dire necessity, I won’t mind helping. I’m quite a good chemist myself, though my calling was never healing, still, I would do my best. I’ve taken oath after all.”

Yeriel’s lips quivered, finding the last hope dying. Well, anyway, even if she frees her channel, could she fight against a warlock? She only knew one or two self-preserving spells, which would never be enough.

“Fine,” she said and stood up, but her legs were weak and were about to fall when William caught her.

“Slow down, Precious.”

Yeriel scowled at the warlock and fended his arm from her. She steadied herself and moved to organise her instruments again. Even though a fight between a Warlock and Knight transpired here, most of her instruments seemed in a fair state. As she organised her instruments, Lord Kirien thanked her and also apologised to her, over and over. She, of course, ignored him entirely, not to spite him. It's just that her mind needed time to figure out everything of the ingredients and instruments she would need was alright.

“It’s alright, Lord Kirien,” she said to the elderly knight finally, checking everything was alright. A few of the glass flasks were shattered, but most of her stuff was alright. “Thank me when I cure your wife.”

“Ishar bless you,” Lord Kirien said with teary eyes, head bowing low to the ground.

- - -

William snorted at the hypocrite. Did she not see the hypocrisy of these nobles? He questioned, eyes glued to the healer working. He would take no chances here. Yeriel was an accomplished healer, also an excellent chemist and alchemist; she might be able to concoct something that would assist in her escape. Luckily, he had a good grasp on that subject and could make sure she concocts nothing but the cure.

“Manas help me,” the healer muttered, and busied herself in the task.

Two individual eyes glued on her from the start, one with suspicions while the other was weary and worried.

“Can you hurry?” William said, only a quarter of an hour later.

Yeriel lifted her head from stirring a solution in a flask. “Help me,” she said, holding out a flask and a vial, containing a colourless solution and a blue liquid, respectively. “You’re skilled in Spirit Cloud? Make sure you saturated this solution well and don’t even think about mixing something into it.”

“Yes, my Precious,” William gave her a brilliant smile, taking the flask and vial. As usual, Yeriel didn’t reply to his flirty comment and returned to her task.

Lord Kirien was about to argue about that. How could he let a warlock, whose transgressions were at fault for everything wrong, help? However, finding the stern stare from Yeriel, he kept his silence. It didn’t appear he could do anything more, either.

William stirred his spirit energy with a few strands of dark energy, however, he felt a surreal, suffocating feeling just showing the intention of doing something ill into the solution. He smiled and withdrew the dark energy to draw some pure energy to cast as an invisible cloud in the flask. He didn’t really want to do anything to the solution. The sick lady lives or dies, it had nothing to do with him. He just likes to see how dominant the oath is.

“Lady Yeriel, why are you helping someone who sold you out?” William asked, while mixing the blue liquid into the colourless solution. Yeriel was not creating anything to assist her in escape, but it was the cure—that fascinates him. Wouldn’t a normal person just spout in anger with such behaviour?

Yeriel didn’t reply, of course.

“If you stray away from your initial purpose, no one will blame you, then why?”

Yeriel lifted her head in his direction. “You like to hear your voice all the time, isn’t that right?”

William raised an eyebrow, smiling. ‘As a matter of fact, I do.' That revelation only made him smile ear to ear.

“How about shut your mouth for the time, I’m working?”

Abruptly, a bombardment boomed as Yeriel stirred on her spot.

“What was that?” she asked, eyes drawn towards the way it came from.

“Looks like we have no time,” William said in the same tone, giving back the solution. “Complete your concoction now.”

Yeriel jolted, but took the solution. She ignored the worries she felt for Oscar and others and dropped three drips of liquid blood asparagus into the solution to complete the cure. White and red smoke came out in rings as her concoction finished in success. The ingredients were just difficult to find, but the concocting was not that difficult. She had tried to waste as much time as she could, but in the end, no help came in.

The bombardment only proved that William was more organised and thoughtful about this assault than she had assumed. She was sure by now that, like her, others were in trouble.

Sighing, she moved to cure her patient.

_ _ _

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