I watch in disbelief as the salamander keeps the two wraiths at bay.

Here in this maze, we can see something only because I fixed a light orb to a bat flying ahead of Ronan. I'm not carrying a torch, but unlike slimes, these creatures aren't vulnerable to just any fire—only to magical fire. I don't know if my light orb would hurt them; I assume heal would, but I'm not getting my hand anywhere close to find out. The only thing that comes to mind is the fire dart spell, since there is no room to fight with my sword or bow.

I cast a couple of darts, one at each wraith. They vanish before the spells can touch them. The magical projectiles continue on their path and strike the nearby wall. Good thing that, unlike channeled arrows, these are not high-level enough to explode.

"What's with that salamander?" I ask Ronan.

He is still holding it with one arm. The pet (if it really is one) stops spewing fire as soon as the enemies disappear.

"Later, my lady. And your wolf pup?"

I reach for my backpack, but I already know what I am going to find in that pocket: nothing.

I frown as I confirm it.

"He's gone."

"There are at least four more wraiths. They've taken out several of my smaller golems. Can you assist Tom and the golems in the rear?"

"Of course."

"Thank you very much. Please be careful," he tells me, then walks forward.

His creatures shift aside to let him pass. I can see several of those wraiths ahead.

I prepare a light orb to throw it toward the rear, so I can get a better view. As I turn around, I hear a chant. Ronan is casting a spell too.

I turn back around the previous corner and spot Tom in the dim light filtering through the corridor. The skeleton doesn't seem to be under attack by any wraith. He presses himself against the wall and lets me pass. As I do, I toss the orb toward the rear golems, who are firing either shards or ice bolts at a ghost draining mana from a zombie golem.

Its mouth is wide open, and I can see a bluish stream of energy flowing from the zombie to the wraith. The expression of ecstasy on the wraith's face is so feral it gives me chills.

Damn! That almost happened to me. Since my bow is still channeling flames, I grab it and smack the spectral being with it.

Reluctantly, the creature releases its prey and turns to face me. Its eyes glare with hatred—and a hunger that seems even more ravenous now that it has tasted the dark mana of Ronan.

I strike it again.

Between my two hits and the attacks from the golems, its HP bar is almost gone. Before it can vanish, I land a third blow.

With a high-pitched screech that makes my eardrums ache, the creature disappears. Literally. It stretches out by like twenty percent, then bursts like an overinflated balloon.

Brutal.

But if Ronan wanted a souvenir from the creature, there's nothing here. It vanished without leaving a trace.

Immediately, two more wraiths—probably the same ones from before—come straight for me. Since the bow is on my back again, they phase through the wall right in front of me. There's no room to dodge or jump. I grab the bow hanging off my shoulder and block them with it.

Mentally, I thank those agility points.

The spectral beings hiss as they crash into the channeled fire, and as I focus, I can see their HP bars dropping. They retreat backward. I move forward with the bow in hand, maintaining contact with them. If my intuition is right, they cannot dematerialize as long as they're touching the bow.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

A pair of ice bolts rains down on them, courtesy of the two large golems behind me. They zip past my face—maybe half a foot away on either side; good thing I was only moving to keep the pressure forward.

One of the ghosts, the more injured one, bursts and vanishes. The other keeps trying to escape, in vain. It's stuck against the wall and cannot pass through it. I think I've found a weakness the army didn't catch.

If you attack them, they go intangible to avoid being hit—or just vanish altogether. That's what makes them so dangerous. But if the trick is to keep contact with something that's burning (because otherwise they'll freeze it, and you along with your sword or whatever that "something" is), then they are not so bad.

Smiling at the opportunity to keep practicing my healing spell, I release my right hand from the bow, bring it close to the creature without touching it, and cast.

"Heal," I say aloud, finishing my casting.

A white light bursts from my palm and strikes the wraith. As expected, it doesn't heal it. Instead, the ghost screams and writhes in pain.

I look away. I don't like causing pain.

I hear a burst and assume that's it—three down now. I sling the bow back over my shoulder using the strap I never let go of, and move ahead to check if Ronan needs help.

Tom presses against the wall again to let me pass.

I hope he is not feeling useless—against these creatures, all he can do is donate mana and die.

As I round the corner, I find Ronan immobilized, with one of the wraiths trying to drain his mana. However, I can clearly see another stream of energy—more powerful—flowing from Ronan's hands into the creature's core. I have no idea what the hell my friend was thinking when he decided to try something like that.

It looks like a magical drain battle, each one fighting to feed off the other.

The salamander is slumped to the side, apparently injured. The bats have bitten a wraith that's attacking one of the small golems, and they're frozen mid-motion, stuck to it. They must have finished off the other enemies, because I only see those two left.

A plan starts forming in my head. If the wraith has creatures in contact, it isn't intangible. I fire a flame dart at it, then another, and another one after that.

I bet it cannot vanish to dodge them.

They hit. All of them. By the third, the wraith starts to swell—then bursts.

I turn toward Ronan. He is still locked in battle with a specter so pale and translucent it is barely visible. A few more seconds pass, and then only Ronan remains. Since there is no pop or burst, I glance around, worried it might have escaped—maybe to attack me from above or behind.

"It is gone. I drained it completely," Ronan says, and I could swear he sounds regretful.

"Are you okay?" I ask, concerned.

"Yes. It is just that I wanted to keep it. My lady, the ones you slew—did they leave anything behind?"

"No."

Seriously, the disappointment on his face... I get it—those were powerful creatures. Of course he would have wanted them as minions.

Speaking of pets...

"Your salamander," I say, offering him my hand to help him up.

"It fought well, but there were five of them. It was eventually defeated."

"It's still alive, but I cannot use heal again until tomorrow. Can you heal it?"

He pauses for a few seconds, as if weighing the idea, then nods. He pulls a health potion from his backpack and gently pours it into the creature's mouth.

"How many potions did you bring?" I ask him.

"Only one healing potion."

And he uses it on a pet that—if it died—he could just raise as a zombie and control however he wants? For a second, I feel guilty. Maybe he did it just because I asked.

A few seconds pass before the potion takes effect. The salamander opens its eyes and looks at Ronan. It doesn't move. If I had not seen it fighting beside him, I would swear it's afraid of him.

"Where did you find it?"

"When we read the mission info, I figured we would need some way to fight in case the unthinkable happened and wraiths showed up. So while you were picking out the bow—do you remember I disappeared for a few minutes?"

I nod. Honestly, I was so absorbed in my own stuff that I just figured he'd gone to the bathroom.

"I went to the pet shop on that same street."

"Then it must've been expensive," I murmur, recalling the prices I saw in the display window.

Ronan shrugs.

"We will get more loot in here anyway."

"And where were you keeping it?" I'm referring to the salamander.

"Under my cloak. She is very well-behaved—ever since I saw her in the store, she has done nothing but stay still and stare at me. I do not understand why the clerk kept warning me she was aggressive."

Well… with all that dark magic of his, the poor salamander is probably terrified.

"Can I?" I ask, holding out my arms.

Ronan places his pet in them. She's heavier than I expected. I pet her gently, and the creature sticks out her tongue and presses her cheek to mine as if begging me to save her.

"Shhh, it's okay," I whisper. "Ronan is a good master."

Or at least I think so.

Either way, I hand her back without saying a word. Let him keep believing she's just a sweet, obedient little girl.

Or maybe…?

"Ronan, if she swears fealty to me, she can become your soldier—and then you'll be able to communicate with her without waiting for her to die first."

"Oh, would you really, my lady?" His eyes light up.

"Of course. Set her down."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.