The Witch of Thornvale Chapter 15: The Cost of Holding

The Witch of Thornvale is a literary portal fantasy featuring two distinct characters. It allegorizes Ludwig von Mises’ Six Lessons.

If you haven’t read the first 14 chapters of The Witch of Thornvale, catch them below. Then read Chapter 15, the Act II finale. See how Drake Ridgeback navigates Eirwyn Starweaver’s medieval-like world that’s more like ours than we might think.

Find out what led to the Act II climax here in Cinderglen, which may wind up as the “Birthplace of Liberty” in Eirwyn’s world if its people are drawn to the idea, and if Drake and Eirwyn survive this next encounter.

The Witch of Thornvale Chapter 15: The Cost of Holding

The first scream came from the village.

Drake turned at the sharp, guttural sound breaking through the chaos. A man stumbled backward, clutching his head, as one of the crystal nodes at his feet flickered violently, its blue light stuttering like a dying pulse.

Then it again went dark. A second node followed, then a third. The threads between those thin lines of blue that had once carried quiet order through Cinderglen snapped one by one, unraveling in midair like burned rope.

The air shifted around the witch nearest to Drake, wrong in a way he couldn’t name. It was like the surrounding forest held its breath.

Eirwyn gasped and her arm found Drake’s as the witches joined their leader and closed in. Her hand burned against his arm, like that red-hot pain inside her wanted to tear its way out. She tried to stand but her legs gave out as the witches drew to within yards.

Drake stood firm, planting his boots into the earth as he glowered at the incoming witches. He anticipated one or all of them moving him with one wave of their hand or with an energy blast.

Something rubbed against Drake’s pantleg, and from the corners of his eyes, Eirwyn eased herself upward, shaking as she dug her bare feet into the ground.

The witches stopped in unison and raised their right hands outward, as if seeking to hit their prey with a collective blast.

“Thought we’d do this the easy way,” the lead witch said. “Don’t make us hurt you further, Starweaver.”

Blue light flickered across Eirwyn’s palm. It surged, stuttered, then snapped into focus like a flame catching after too many failed sparks. Eirwyn took two steps forward as the witches sent a series of fireballs at her, but the energy in her hand absorbed them.

They shot another volley. Eirwyn stumbled and screamed in agony, but her energy again caught them. Her voice, when it came, was strained—but it carried. “You’ll either need to kill me, or I’ll make my magic collapse onto itself.”

Drake did a double take as his mind processed the weight of her words. “Eirwyn, no—”

“I’d die before I’d serve Malcor,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice barely audible. Eirwyn’s hand trembled as the light flared and the air snapped.

Whatever Eirwyn was doing, Drake had no idea. It was a brand of magic she hadn’t used. But the entire group of witches threw hurried looks at their leader.

In their hesitation, Eirwyn drove her hand downward as every crystal in the village relit themselves. Light tore across the ground in a jagged fracture of energy that split the gap between her and the witches.

The nearest witch shouted something and raised her hand. The others followed, but Eirwyn’s energy blast through the ground exploded with so much force that the entire village shook. A collective death scream erupted from the witches, but the lead witch planted her hand into the earth and absorbed the rest of Eirwyn’s onslaught.

The witch fired back, but Eirwyn, somehow, was quick enough to retaliate. The village quaked again as two forces grinded against each other with no room to give.

Drake staggered back a step and tripped, the shockwave ripping through the dirt beneath his boots.

Eirwyn screamed in a mixture of pain and effort. The light around her surged again—brighter, wilder, and uncontrolled. She was serious about her threat, and there was nothing Drake could do to stop her.

Every second cost what remained of her energy. Drake saw it as Eirwyn’s eyes again lost their focus. Her stance weakened, her shoulders dipped, and the glow in her hand, so powerful a moment ago, faded at the edge.

The lead witch saw this and grinned, pushing her own energy blast toward Eirwyn.

“Eirwyn—” Drake started.

“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice cracking on the word. But she held, finding a way to reflect her stagnating energy against the witch.

She fell to her knees and after one final shuttering scream, she encompassed the witch in a ball of energy, which transformed into an inferno. Now, the witch’s scream echoed across the village and the surrounding forest. She emitted energy beam after energy beam as the pale skin melted from her body until nothing but a charred skeleton remained.

Eirwyn swayed, and the light in her hand extinguished, snuffing out like a candle while the witch’s bone fragments dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

Then Eirwyn collapsed. Drake caught her again—this time with no resistance. Her body went slack against him.

“Eirwyn—hey—” His voice sharpened, panic breaking through. “Eirwyn, stay with me.”

Her breathing was shallow, but there. Barely, but that was enough. For now, at least.

He lifted her—arms under her back and legs—and turned toward the inn.

“Out of the way!” he barked at anyone who left the confines of their homes to view the damage. “Now!”

***

The inn smelled like smoke and damp wood. Drake forced the door open with his shoulder and carried Eirwyn inside.

“Upstairs,” the innkeeper said. “I have your room ready for you. I’ll make sure nobody goes up there tonight.”

Drake sprinted up the stairs into their small, minimalist room. It had a bed, a basin, and a chair. Drake always slept in the chair while he gave Eirwyn the bed. But tonight, there was no way he’d sleep until he knew if she’d be okay.

He laid her down carefully, pulling the thin blanket to her waist as her body trembled—then stilled.

Her face had gone even more pale. Too pale. But he heaved a sigh of relief when the back of his hand felt her cheek and the skin was still warm.

He took a cloth from the basin, rang it out, and dabbed it against her forehead, cleaning off the sweat, smudges of dirt, and other residue. Drake kept checking her breathing every few minutes as he wiped her neck and arms. He then carefully pried off the bottom part of her cloak and examined the branding, from which that blackish residue still seeped.

***

At some point throughout the night, Drake, now sitting, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head bowed—not asleep, but not fully awake.

The first light of morning crept through the window in thin, gray lines some hours later.

“Drake.” Eirwyn’s voice was barely there, but it cut through everything.

He looked up.

She was awake, her eyes half-lidded, and still unfocused—but aware.

“Hey,” he said, too fast as his heart skipped a beat. “Hey—don’t move.”

Her hand shifted slightly against the blanket, but the glow in her rib cage had gone. Still, she winced.

“How bad?” he said.

She exhaled slowly. “Fading. Better than it was. But he’ll send another batch when they don’t return. Might send an entire brigade of them.”

Drake nodded, his jaw tight.

Eirwyn’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling. “They won’t leave me alone. Not after this.”

Drake leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair.

Eirwyn’s gaze shifted back to him. “They were watching that vector. If they weren’t outright with him.”

“Yeah.”

“Malcor will punish the whole village for this.”

Drake let out a breath, then nodded. “Good.”

She frowned slightly. “Good?”

“Because now we know exactly what we’re dealing with. What this village will be dealing with. At some point.” He eased himself off the chair and stepped closer to the bed. “They don’t just want control. They need dependency, predictability, and systems they can monitor and break. That’s why they sent the vector in first.”

Eirwyn watched him, her eyes wide.

“So we don’t give them that. We don’t build something they can shut down. We build something they can’t control in the first place.”

Eirwyn’s brow furrowed and she fidgeted with the blanket. “You’re still thinking about the network.”

“Bigger than that.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of the bed. Part of him wanted to set one hand on Eirwyn’s shoulder, but he resisted the temptation. “We need to stay.”

Eirwyn bit her lower lip.

“We need to stay, help them, and fix what we broke. But not the same way. It can’t be so fragile.” He met her eyes. “We turn this place into something Malcor can’t overrun.”

Eirwyn studied him for a long moment, still grasping the covers with shaking hands. “You’re asking them to trust something that just failed.”

“No. I’m asking them to build something that can survive failure.”

Eirwyn shifted slightly—pain still there, but the look in her eyes carried a sense of resolve. “And when Malcor comes?”

“We make sure he regrets it. Just like he’s regretting sending those witches.”

Eirwyn closed her eyes again. “Okay then. We stay.”

Catch Chapter 16 and dive deeper into Drake’s conversation with Eirwyn