The Witch's Apprentice: Chapter 27
An Unexpected Meeting
Hello and welcome back to The Witch’s Apprentice. if you’re new here, I recommend starting from chapter 1. Otherwise, welcome back!
In the last chapter, Sarah and Henry shared some downtime camping in the rain, after failing to climb the colossus and securing the elven artifact. This week, we take a step back in time to hear about Henry and his old adventuring party. So come along on this little side quest and hear the tale of that time when the party met a silver dragon in the mountains.
Chapter 27: An Unexpected Meeting
Henry woke up by a firm shake on his shoulder. “Go away,” he mumbled, but Girks sharp voice cut through the haze of his sleep.
“Henry, wake up. Something’s wrong with Elisa.”
Henry blinked his eyes open, squinting against the dim light filtering through the tent’s damp canvas. Rain tapped steadily overhead, like it had for the last few weeks. “What do you mean, something’s wrong?”
“She’s asleep on her watch. We can’t wake her,” Girk said, in a tense voice.
“That makes no sense,” Henry said rubbing his eyes. “Why would she be asleep on her shift?”
Shoving the blanket aside, he sat up and pulled on his boots, the leather still damp from the day before.
The chill of the night air pricked at his skin as he followed Girk outside. The camp looked as miserable as Henry felt. Rain continued to drizzle from a gray sky, pooling in muddy puddles and turning the ground to sludge. Duldren was kneeling by Elisa’s still form near the extinguished campfire, his broad shoulders hunched as he shook her gently by the shoulder.
“She’s breathing,” Duldren said, glancing up as Henry approached, “but I can’t wake her. I’ve tried everything.” He said fidgeting with his holy symbol.
Henry crouched down beside her, the earthy scent of wet moss and mud filling his nose. Elisa’s face was pale, her features slack and too peaceful. Her forehead was cool to the touch, but not cold.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Henry said, his voice tight. “She wouldn’t just fall asleep like this.”
Girk who had been pacing behind Henry and Duldren, stopped and looked at the healer. “Duldren, keep trying to wake her. Henry, you check the perimeter. If someone’s been here, there’ll be plenty of tracks in this muck. I’ll go through our gear and make sure nothing’s missing.”
Henry nodded and stood. His boots squelched in the mud. He scanned the camp’s edge for anything out of place, a broken twig, a footprint, a scrap of cloth. The air was thick with the smell of wet earth, but nothing looked wrong. Circling the camp one more time, his eyes combed the muddy ground. The puddles reflected the gray sky above, but nothing was out of the ordinary.
A sudden shout from Girk tore him out of his search. “They’ve taken our gold. It’s all gone!”
Henry’s head snapped up. He rushed back toward the center of camp, mud flying with every step.
Girk stood by their packs, feathers slicked flat against his body, digging frantically through their supplies. “It was in this pouch,” he said, throwing it aside. “I checked it just last night.”
Henry’s stomach sank. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Girk snapped. “Every last coin is gone.”
Henry knelt and started checking the rest of the gear, tossing open satchels and unrolling bedrolls. “Damn it,” he muttered. “How could someone get this close without us noticing?”
“They must have hit us during the night,” Girk said. “While Elisa was on watch.”
Henry looked toward her, still lying motionless beside the cold fire, her chest rising and falling slowly.
“You think she saw something?” he asked.
“Maybe,” Girk said grimly. “Or maybe whoever did this made sure she wouldn’t.”
Duldren, still kneeling at her side, didn't look up. “I’ve been trying to wake her,” he said. “Nothing works.”
He murmured a soft incantation, hands glowing faintly as he passed them over her forehead and chest. A shimmer of light spread across her skin like a ripple in a pond, then faded. Duldren’s expression darkened. “It’s a magical slumber,” he said at last. “And it must have been a powerful spell to knock her out like this.”
Henry crossed his arms, his gaze flicking between Elisa and Duldren. “There’s no sign of intruders. If someone’s been here, they must have flown in like a bird." He glanced at Girk. "No offense.”
Girk shrugged and looked questioningly at Dulren.
“There’s still a trace of magic in the air. I may be able to track it, but we need to move quickly. It’s already starting to fade.”
Henry exchanged a glance with Girk, his jaw tightening. “Then let’s get going.”
Five minutes later, the camp was packed. Henry glanced at Elisa who was barely breathing. “We can’t leave her here alone,” he said.
Girk nodded. “I know, but we can’t risk splitting up either. Not when we don’t know who, or what, did this.”
Duldren adjusted his pack, his thick fingers still stained with mud from kneeling on the ground. “I’m the only one who can follow the trace of magic. If we leave her, whoever did this could come back and finish what they started.”
Henry ran a hand through his wet hair and looked from Elisa to the foggy gully below. “Agreed. But we can’t wake her up.”
Girk stepped forward, his feathers puffing slightly as he took the horse’s reins. “Then we tie her to the horse. It’s not ideal, but it’ll work.”
Soon after, Elisa was strapped into the saddle, her head resting against the horse’s mane. Girk kept the animal steady as they headed into the gully, Duldren in front, hands out, muttering as he searched for traces of magic.
The path narrowed as they went. Mist curled around their feet and soaked into their cloaks. The gully’s steep walls loomed on either side, their jagged surfaces slick with rain. The air smelled of wet stone and rotting leaves, and every sound, hooves clopping, boots squelching, seemed to echo.
Henry’s gaze darted between the shifting fog and the uneven ground. The faint sound of something moving ahead sent a chill up his spine.
“Hold up,” he whispered, raising a hand.
A massive shape loomed in the mist ahead. Girk tightened his grip on the reins, feathers puffed with tension.
“Stay low,” Duldren hissed, dropping into a crouch.
Before they could advance or retreat, a deep voice rumbled through the gully, low and resonant, like the roll of distant thunder. “There’s no need to hide, little ones. I mean you no harm.”
The group froze, weapons half-drawn, as the mists parted slightly. A massive snout pushed through, silver scales glinting faintly in the filtered light. The dragon’s yellow eyes, slitted like a serpent’s, watched them like a snake watching a mouse.
The horse reared, Elisa’s body shifting dangerously in the saddle. Girk fought to hold the reins, his talons digging into the leather.
“Easy now,” the dragon said, its voice deep but strangely soothing. It muttered a word in a language Henry didn’t recognize, and the horse immediately stilled, its trembling stopping.
The dragon tilted its head, its gaze falling on Elisa. It raised one enormous claw, tracing an elegant gesture in the air. Another word followed, and a faint shimmer of light passed over her body.
Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and dazed.
“That’s better,” the dragon said with something akin to a smile. “Now, let’s get to the heart of this. You’re looking for Caraghal, I assume?”
Henry exchanged a stunned glance with Girk. “We’re looking for whoever attacked our camp,” he said cautiously.
The dragon’s eyes glinted with with something like amusement. “Caraghal,” it said again, “lives in a cave a little further down the gorge. If he’s taken your things, don’t be too harsh with him. I suspect he has other motives. Word is, he plans to propose to Gloiwean.”
“Who?” Henry asked, but before he could get an answer, the dragon spread its massive wings.
“Be kind to him,” it said, and with a powerful sweep of its wings, it lifted into the mist and disappeared, leaving the group standing in stunned silence as the echoes of its departure faded into the gully.
“What the hell was that?” Henry almost shouted, his voice echoing off the slick walls of the gully. His heart was still pounding, his fingers twitching as if they couldn’t decide whether to grab his axe or hold his head in disbelief.
Girk, still clutching the horse’s reins, gave a low whistle, his feathers puffed in agitation. “That,” he said in a shaky voice, “was a real-life, honest-to-the-gods dragon. Did you see the size of it? And the silver scales? I thought dragons were just stories.”
Elisa stirred in the saddle, blinking as she tried to sit up. “Wha… what happened?” she asked, voice thick and groggy. Her hands shook as she gripped the saddle.
The group erupted into a mixture of excitement and worry.
“Did it cast some kind of spell?” Duldren muttered, his brow furrowed as he paced in short, jerky steps.
“Who’s Caraghal?” Henry added, still trying to process the dragon’s parting words. “And why the hell did it tell us to be nice to the thief?”
“It knew about our stolen gear,” Girk said, his talons tapping against his belt. “Which means… what? The thief’s working for the dragon? Or maybe the dragon doesn’t care about our gold and just…”
Elisa’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding despite her dazed expression. “What is going on?” she asked, her green eyes locking onto Henry. “And where is my gryphon feather?”
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