William returned to the inn deep in thought of dragon's Lash unaware of the boy following him.
At night William had a dream:
William's feet slapped softly against the smooth black stone, sound swallowed by the endless dark. The air was heavy, humming with unseen pressure, like the world was holding its breath.
He doesn't remember entering. He never does.
The end of the corridor glows — a cold, pale light. He walked toward it without choosing to.
Beyond it:
a black sea, still as glass. An island rised from the center, perfect and round, like a coin laid on ink.
And on that island stands a man.
Tall. Motionless. Clad in a long coat that shifts like living scales — black as night, stitched with veins of silver and flickers of lightning. A bow rests in his hand, curved a symbol of black dragon William knows well,humming with quiet energy
Behind him, the sky tore open.
Thunder roared like the scream of a dying god. Lightning arcs not white, but deep violet and black , crackling outward in jagged tendrils.
And from within that storm, a shape began to form.
A dragon's mouth.
Immense. Silent. Breathing shadow. Its teeth glinted like obsidian daggers. Its eyes burn like twin moons drowned in ink.
William stepped closer to the water's edge, drawn toward the island by some force he doesn't understand.
The man lifted his head. His face remains shrouded, hidden in the hood's shadow — but William felt his gaze, sharp and profound.
The man spoke.
His voice was deep and distant, layered like echoes in a cavern, but it carried across the water as if whispered in William's ear:
"Do you know what it takes to pull the string?"
William didn't answer. His mouth was dry. His body disn't respond.
The dragon behind the man opened its jaws wider , but made no sound.
The man raised the bow. Not to aim to show it. To offer it.
Lightning flashed again, but it didn't light the sky. It lighted the man's face, rising slowly like a dawn made of fire.
William leaned forward, trying to see-
The man's face was almost visible .
"Do you accept the bow ?"
William woke up with a strangled gasp.
His shirt was soaked through. Sweat clung to his skin like ice.
The darkness of his room felt too small, too quiet. The dream slipped from him like water through fingers, but the words remained, pulsing in his skull.
********************
The sunrise pounded down on the caravan track, baking the dust into a fine, choking powder. William walked beside the creaking wagons, his mind still lost in the cold, dark sea of his dream. The ghostly weight of the bow, the ringing question – "Do you accept the bow?" – stayed with him like the sweat on his tunic. He hardly noticed the rhythmic pound of hooves or the merchants' shouting bargains.
He didn't notice Kelen until it was too late.
"Lost in your fantasies, rat?" Kelen's low, malevolent voice punctured William's daze. He emerged from behind a scattering of sun-baked boulders lining the winding pass, backed by his two imposing Mumbra cousins. Their faces hard, hands resting on the grips of massive cudgels. "Time to pay off our little bet. That bow you carry. it belongs to me."
William's hand went involuntarily to the grip of the bow, strapped across his back. His heart pounded against his rib cage, a mad counterpoint to the lingering fear of the dream. "It was fair play, Kelen. You lost."
"Fair?" Kelen spat. "You cheated! Used some trick, no doubt." He took a step forward, his cousins spreading out to block the way back. "Hand it over. Or we take it… and your fingers."
The ambush was swift and brutal. One of the Mumbra lunged forward, his cudgel swinging in a wide arc toward William's head. William ducked, his ear only just clearing it, and drew his bow with a smooth motion. An arrow hissed, thudding into the ground beside the second Mumbra's feet, a clear warning. But Kelen wasn't to be deterred. He came charging, pushing William towards the rocky wall.
They were too close for his bow to be truly effective. William parried a clumsy swing with the shaft, the impact jarring his arm. He kicked sand into the face of the closest Mumbra's eyes, gaining a second and went for the short sword that lay in his waist. But Kelen would not give up, pushing him back, his face contorted with greed and resentment. William moved frantically, his dream-hazed mind struggling to find the nearest danger. He deflected another stroke, but the blow made him stumble, his back thudding against the scorching stone. Cornered.
Kelen smiled, swinging his club high for a finishing blow. "Should've stayed dreaming, boy."
William stood firm, the vision of the dragon's black teeth imprinting in his mind. But the blow was never struck.
A dark, small shape flew from the rocks above like a hurled stone. It hit Kelen's arm as he swung. Kelen bellowed in shock and agony, the cudgel falling from his hand. William blinked, having been stunned briefly.
It is the boy who trailed William yesterday. William vaguely noticed the boy yesterday in Borin cavaran.
He came down softly on his feet between William and his attackers, a sword held low in his hand. He did not glance at William, his eyes on Kelen and the Mumbra brothers, burning with a shocking intensity.
"Leave him alone," the boy said, his voice astonishingly steady.
Kelen snapped out of it first, anger substituting for shock. "Scramble , gutter rat! This doesn't concern you!"
The boy didn't even blink. "It does."
He moved with startling quickness, leaping forward not at Kelen, but at the closest Mumbra, cutting at his legs. The large man roared, stumbling back. It was a whirlwind – of cries, curses, and the boy's frantic, nimble defense. He lacked their strength, but he employed the rocks and dirt, knocking them down, leaping in to hamstring, breaking them apart to divide their attention.
William took advantage. He crawled up, set an arrow, and drew. The string vibrated. He did not mean to kill, but to incapacitate. An arrow struck the second Mumbra in the shoulder, causing him to drop his cudgel with a yell.
Kelen, losing his advantage and enduring the boy's remorseless harassment, growled. "This isn't over!"
He picked up his dropped cudgel and, with a final scowl at William, motioned his injured cousins away.
They limped back towards the boulders, disappearing into the ally.
There was silence, punctuated only by William's gasping breath and the distant creak of the caravan wheels. He lowered his bow, his shaking hands. He looked over at the boy, sheathing his sword, his chest rising and falling.".
"Why?" William croaked, his throat dry. "Why did you save me?"
The boy hesitated, finally gazing at him, a glimmer of something determinate in his dark eyes.
"Name's Jax," he told him, brushing dust off his cheek. "Work for Borin's caravan. Saw you kill Kelen yesterday."
His lips curled into a ghost of a smile. "Borin said you were special. Said you'd reach great heights.Thought perhaps you needed watching. Especially after you won that flashy bow." He shrugged, as if rescuing William from death had been a small task.
"Decided to trail.
To see if Borin had been correct."Jax said.
William gazed in amazement. The saviour was a caravan boy? Gratitude struggled with suspicion and the lingering discomfort of his dream. He did not want followers. He did not want attachment .The bow weighed heavily, the question of the dream resounding.
"Go back to the caravan, Jax," William told him, his voice steady, suppressing the shake. "I don't need a shadow."
Jax's face didn't flicker. He merely nodded slowly. "Alright."
But William turned back to walk on the main road and looked back over his shoulder. Jax was already falling back a respectful distance behind him, his eyes ranged out across the horizon, not at William, but there nonetheless.
William breathed the weight of the meeting and the dream, pressing down on him. He picked up his pace, hoping distance would scare the persistent boy off.
But Jax kept pace with him easily, a quiet, observant presence. They arrived at the planned meeting place just as the last wagons were loaded.
Borin, an old man with flint-chip eyes, gave William a nod. "Cut it close, lad. Black Fang City won't wait."
He did not speak of the scuffle, but he looked at William's rumpled appearance and then shifted his glance to Jax, who had blended into the crowd of porters by the back wagons.
There was an understanding glance between Borin and the boy, too quick for William to notice .
William climbed onto the bench beside the driver of a supply wagon. He kept his eyes forward, refusing to acknowledge Jax's presence.
Yet, as the lead wagon creaked forward, dust pluming in the morning sun, William felt it – the subtle shift in the air, the quiet footfall keeping pace just out of sight.
He closed his eyes, the image of the black sea and the offered bow flooding back, now overlaid with the boy's determined face.
The journey to Black Fang City had begun, and William knew, with a sinking certainty that felt like the dream's cold water, that he wouldn't be making it alone.
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