

_Legends of Windemere_ _:_

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Copyright © 2004 by Charles Yallowitz

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design & Illustration by Jason Pedersen

Dedication

To everyone who has entered Windemere

And left their mark upon its soul
Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

####  Prologue

A shrill bell echoes in the darkness that covers the riverside town of Rodillen. Very few people walk the empty streets while eerie noises drift through the murky air. A dull wind snakes its way among the buildings, carrying a luminous mist that clings to everything it touches. The bell ringer stops and retreats to his stone shack as a lone, brown-haired man stumbles his way into the first tavern he can find. The tavern is silent as every guest stares at the newcomer, their eyes filled with suspicion. His muddy traveler's cloak is torn in several places, but his clothes have retained some of their refined appearance. Everyone watches as the nervous man takes a seat at the bar and pulls out a gold coin with a jester cap symbol on it. He skillfully juggles the coin along his knuckles and lifts his arm, letting the coin slide into his sleeve. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a few women at the bar are licking their lips. Their attention is on the coin and most of the men have begun to unsheathe daggers of various sizes and shapes.

"Are you a follower of Cessia? She's a good goddess to have at this time," the bartender announces, his loud voice making the man jump in surprise. "The Day of Darkness is no time to be outdoors with all the undead walking around like they own all of Windemere. If you need a place to stay, I have a few rooms left upstairs. The beds are hard and the floors creak, but it beats getting eaten on the street."

"Thank you for the room and board. This humble traveler appreciates your kindness. I hope this covers what I require from your establishment," the man timidly says. With a slow movement, he pulls out four pieces of gold, placing them in the bartender's hand. A few murmurs rustle through the room when a glint of torchlight reflects off one of the pieces. The bartender lets his hand fall under the bar, which causes the whispering and stares to stop.

The bartender cautiously eyes the other patrons as he pockets the gold. "My pleasure, but you better be careful showing this kind of money out in the open. Thieves and crooked merchants are what Rodillen is famous for. Nobody would think twice about the looted body of a traveler. Anyway, I'll be back with some food. Looks to me like you haven't eaten in days. Give me a few minutes to prepare something quick."

As his host goes to the kitchen, the man slips the jester coin back into his hand and stares at it. He dwells on the events that brought him to this point in his life and comes to the conclusion that he should have stayed in Gods' Voice. A primal howl erupts from outside, causing the tavern to plunge into silence for a few seconds. Everyone goes back to his or her business, except for the traveler who is still quivering in fear. He grips the coin with all of his strength, the edge of it cutting into his palm.

"I should never have taken this assignment," the man mutters to himself. "There were so many messengers who move faster than I do. I don't even know how much longer I have to go. If I hadn't lost my map and compass, I would feel so much better. This assignment must be a test from Cessia herself to confirm my faith."

"What assignment?" asks a female voice from his left. Holding his breath, the traveler shifts his gaze to a short, redheaded woman in a low-cut shirt and tight pants. Her cool hands are already performing a gentle massage on his leg and hip.

"I didn't know your people could have red hair," the man admits, noticing her pointy ears. A sense of dread washes over him and he tries to locate the quickest exit.

"You must not travel the world because elves come in more flavors than humans. Though, all elves have the same talents in bed. Care for some company tonight, your majesty? Since this is such a dangerous night, I'm willing to reduce my fee. We'll say eleven gold coins for everything. What do you say? I can give you a taste of what lies ahead."

The elf thrusts her face forward for a kiss, but the jittery man bounces his barstool away, slipping out of her grasp. A small amount of laughter erupts from a nearby table of dwarves. He looks at the drunken group of bearded men and they raise their mugs in a friendly salute. The elf hops off her barstool, walking over to him with a playful look in her eyes.

"That's it, boy! Don't go elf on us!" one of the dwarves hollers.

She continues to move closer, her tongue slipping out like that of a reptile. "Don't listen to them. Dwarves don't know how to enjoy the soft and sensual touch of an elf. It's entirely foreign to them. Besides, if you saw their women then you would understand why they like the dark. Now, come back to the bar and spend some time with someone who is more than willing to make your night a relaxing one."

"Let the man eat, ma'am. He's obviously had a rough night and I think he needs rest more than pleasure," the bartender requests, returning with a plate of food and a mug of ale. "Don't make me toss you out on a night like this. It would make me feel bad."

The elf glares at the burly bartender and storms out of the tavern. With the woman gone, the traveler is free to crawl back to the bar and eat the barely edible food. The stew is watery with very few vegetables and the bread is stale, but he silently admits that it is better than nothing. The bartender helps a few more customers before returning to the man, who is vaguely unaware that he has been the center of attention since he arrived.

"Sorry about that woman. Can't go anywhere in this town without seeing the bottom of society's barrel," the bartender claims, wiping down the counter. "Like I said before, this town is known for thieves. The city has gone downhill over the years with all the corruption and crime. I'm guessing a man like yourself doesn't care about the woes of a local merchant, so I won't bore you any more." The bartender pauses to clear his throat. "Mind if I ask you something, mister?"

"I have nothing to hide."

"What is a messenger of Duke Solomon doing in Rodillen?" the bartender asks, cautiously scanning the room and leaning over the bar. "I saw your colors under the cloak and I'm sure a few of the local predators have too. That's not something you should let people see around here. It makes this night all the more dangerous for you, so I'm hoping you can protect yourself. Only a very brave or very foolish man would openly wear royal colors in this town. I'm also wondering what has you so spooked. It may be the Day of Darkness, but your average undead doesn't scare adults enough to turn them white like you."

The man nervously taps his finger on the bar, his breathing becoming ragged. "I am passing through to meet with someone, so the less time I spend in one spot the better. I only know who I am supposed to meet and where. As for what has me spooked . . . a Lich has been following me since I left the safety of Gods' Voice."

The bartender turns pale and a few patrons move away from the traveler. He can sense eyes boring into his back with malice and he hears a few people get out of their seats. Two male half-orcs, identified by their pronounced lower jaws and wide eyes, roughly lift the messenger from the barstool. They hurl him out the door, watching him skid on his back through the muddy street. The bartender walks to the doorway and looks out at the man who is nothing more than a vague form in the darkness.

"No offense, sir, but I have my own life to think about here," he declares, closing the door and opening a grate to talk through. "I can deal with most kinds of common undead, but I draw the line at Liches. Those are necrocasters of the worst kind and I don't plan on meeting one in my lifetime. I wish you the best of luck, but I suggest that you keep running until this night is over. I'm sorry it had to come to this, but it's nothing against you. May Cessia protect you through this night because nobody in this town will bother with you."

"How can my life get any worse?" the messenger wonders, getting to his feet and brushing the mud off his clothes. He stops when he realizes he is only smearing the mud around his clothes.

A guttural cough wafts out of the shadows and the man turns to face the group of dwarves from the tavern. Their weapons are drawn and the smell of ale is like a thick fog around them. The stocky men have a wild look in their eyes that paralyzes the traveler with fear.

"No sense in wasting time with formalities or the usual flare," one of the dwarves states. The other dwarves stumble into position around the messenger, trapping him in a ring of greedy thieves. "We saw those shiny pieces you gave the bartender. We also heard you work for the Duke. That means you have money and we want it. Hand it over and we'll let you live through this . . . transaction."

"Take it all!" the man cries, throwing his money pouch to one of the dwarves. The thief moves to catch it, but trips over his own foot and the coin-filled bag hits him in the face. The crunch of a broken nose echoes in the night as the pouch bounces off the dwarf.

"How dare you attack one of us!" the biggest dwarf yells, inciting them into a drunken charge.

Three of them are grabbed around the ankles by unseen hands, causing them to fall into the mud. Everyone stops as the fallen dwarves are dragged under the mud, their screams ripping through the air. The sounds of crunching bones and skin being shredded abruptly cut the screams off. The messenger incoherently shrieks before sprinting in the direction of the western gates. The two remaining dwarves follow him when they see the silhouettes of four zombies crawling out of the earth. A half-cough, half-hiss slithers from the exposed throat of one of the zombies as it follows the retreating men.

Turning a corner, the messenger sees the wooden gates of Rodillen loom in the distance. He can hear the wheezing and coughing of the dwarves a few yards behind him. Against his better judgment, he glances back to see the zombies are following the drunks, the undead moving at a steady pace. Panicking, the man pulls out a yellow potion and swallows it in one gulp. Feeling a surge of energy, he closes the gap between him and the inviting gates. Hoping to escape without a trace, he tries to run into the shadows only to trip over someone's foot. He bounces off the solid gate with body-numbing force and lands face down in the mud.

"You should have accepted my earlier offer, mister," says a familiar female voice, its seductive tone replaced by cold callousness. "Your death would have been quicker and a lot less painful."

The dwarves skid to a halt a few feet away as the redheaded elf from the tavern walks into the light. She signals for the zombies to stop, the monsters groaning as they obey. Turning her attention to the terrified man, she shoves the two drunks out of her way. The elf stops and swears when she hears a low growl from behind her. The dwarves howl and charge with their weapons swinging wildly, driven by alcohol-fueled machismo.

"Stop!" the messenger shouts.

The elf pounces on the drunken pair with lightning speed. She stabs one of them through the eye with a slender dagger and his friend is taken down by a savage spin-kick to the throat. He sputters blood and bone chips, collapsing at her feet. She viciously stomps on the back of his neck, stopping when she hears a loud snap and his body spasms.

"Now, for the messeng . . . son of a troll," the elf mutters, watching the man disappear into the forest outside the gate. Her face becomes very pale as a whirl of magic surrounds her, a telltale sign that her employer is watching her.

"I'm in a lot of trouble now," she whispers in Elven as she vanishes from the street.

*****

The elf reappears in a large room with arcane symbols on the floor and a single chair against the far wall. Each symbol looks like it is bleeding along the floor and swirling into itself, shadows licking at their edges. The stench of spell components and blood rise from the red-tinted stone beneath her feet. Grimacing at the foul odor, she removes a simple, golden ring from her finger like her queen asked her to do when not in the field. Once the jewelry is off, her form changes to that of a cobalt-skinned elf with ebony hair and glowing, green eyes. She holds up her left arm to watch her ivory soul marking spiral back into view. The marking is a detailed serpent coiling from her right shoulder to her right palm. She gives a soft kiss to the serpent's head as magic ripples down her shifting body. Her clothing changes into leather armor with several daggers attached to her belt. The elf hugs her body, but her joy of returning to normal is short-lived when she remembers where she is. Sweat forms on the chaos elf's brow as a half-hour passes with no sign of her employer.

The chaos elf examines the room, silently scoffing at its bland and unkempt style. The only interesting parts of the room are the bleeding and squirming demonic symbols painted on the floor. She would not be surprised if a master painter was kidnapped to make them. Though, she is sure the poor bastard was the first to be sacrificed on this evil altar. She nervously taps her foot, wondering why she is spending so much time analyzing the décor. The morbid answer comes to her and sours her mood. She could very well die here, so she might as well enjoy the better parts of the scenery.

"You have failed me, Garna," hisses an eerie voice. "You claimed you could stop the messenger and now he is in the wild. We can no longer stop him from reaching the Paladin."

The chaos elf feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I am sorry, sir. I will try my best to track the messenger and eliminate him. I will even eliminate the Paladin if given the opportunity. I swear this on the suffering of my people and the honor of my queen."

Garna nods toward a shadowy figure who steps out of a billowing cloud of smoke. Layers of black and gray robes cover the taut-skinned body of the Lich. He flexes his hands and the chaos elf can see several gaudy rings adorning his gnarled fingers. His boney feet appear briefly as he sits in the solitary chair, adjusting his moldy robes. She cannot stop herself from staring at the red eyes, flickering with unbridled greed from underneath his dusty hood.

"Why should I believe you will accomplish your goals when you wasted your time with a pair of dwarves?" the Lich asks as he leans forward.

"They attacked me and I needed to defend myself. I still bleed and get hurt like other living things. Taking an axe to the spine would have made it difficult for me to eliminate the messenger," Garna answers while standing at attention. "Besides, they did not delay me too long and I saw where the messenger went. If you had not teleported me away, I could have caught up with him and this conversation wouldn't be happening." She stops once she realizes her blunder. "Uh, what I meant was . . ."

The necrocaster seems to grow in size as he screams, "You dare to place blame on my head!"

"No, sir, I merely ask that you give me more time. Taking me away before I have time to reverse my mistakes does not prove I am a worthless agent."

"You and your ilk are invaluable agents, Garna," the Lich agrees, folding his hands on his lap. "Chaos elves have been loyal to the darkness for a very long time. Garna, can you tell me why your people are so good at what they do? Please refresh my dusty memory."

She cautiously walks around the circular room, her attention never wandering away from the Lich. She stops on the far side of the room and takes out a dagger to twirl in her hand. She can tell he is up to something, but she knows too little about the creature to predict him. All she remembers is that her queen warned her that a wrong move would land her in this position. The thought of her queen and how she may have failed her brings tears to Garna's eyes.

The chaos elf clears her drying throat and stops spinning her dagger. "My people are the stealthiest warriors in the world. We thrive in the shadows while improving our . . . unique survival techniques. There are no better spies in all of Windemere and we are the best assassins in the Post Cataclysm era. Does that answer your question, sir?"

"Full of pride and arrogance as I expected," her employer replies as he clacks his bony fingers together. "Chaos elves always see themselves as the greatest race in all of Windemere. Personally, I don't believe you are as talented as you think. Do you agree?"

"I swear I will do better next time. I promi-" Garna begins. Her voice is cut off by a quick spell from the Lich, who rises to his feet. His crimson eyes bore into her and she can see a vague, skeletal sneer beneath his hood. An eerie chill creeps up Garna's spine, taking root in the back of her skull.

A raspy cough passes through the air as the decaying necrocaster circles the room. "You have had your chance to prove yourself. Trinity told me you could do this job and you have failed me. Now, I must bring in something more powerful and dangerous. I need an assassin who can finish this job and serve me without failure until all my goals have been achieved." The Lich stops walking and faces the nervous woman, his rotting arms weaving in the air. "To be honest, I agree with you that chaos elves are the best mortal assassins, but I need a demon. You are dismissed."

Thick chains lance out of the shadows, wrapping around Garna's legs and dragging her across the floor. Several of the arcane symbols light up as she is pulled toward the middle of what she now realizes is a demon-summoning circle. She struggles against the chains, but small bursts of electricity pulse through her body with every twist. All she can do is panic, feeling her strength get rapidly sapped by the chains. Out of desperation, Garna digs her fingernails into the space between two stone tiles. The chains violently yank her with enough force to break off a few nails, hurling her into the center of the circle. As she stands, the chains wrap around her entire body, leaving only her left eye uncovered. Terror fills the single orb as its pupil frantically moves in every direction, hoping to see a way out.

"As you know, a sacrifice is necessary when calling forth a minion from the Chaos Void," the Lich says, running his hand over a faded symbol on the wall. "You may have failed me as an assassin, but you will make a perfect offering. Wouldn't you agree, vermin?"

Garna cries as the Lich chants the incantation, the bleeding symbols pulsating with crimson light. Her scream echoes throughout the chamber as a spiral of blood-like magic curls up from beneath her. The chains around the chaos elf transform into a suit of gothic platemail as she grows taller and more muscular. The sickening bursting of skin fills the air, her body becoming too large for her cobalt flesh. Her ears gain sharper points and red streaks form in her ebony hair. A final surge of magic ends her agony, leaving a green-skinned, elf-like figure standing in her place. All that is left of the woman are bloody shreds of cobalt skin strewn around the fire-eyed demon's feet.

"Perfect," hisses the grinning necrocaster.

"What are your commands, master?" the demonic assassin asks in a low, predatory voice.

The Lich returns to his chair and conjures a goblet of vile smelling liquid. "I require the destruction of a Paladin who will be getting in my way if allowed to live. There is also a messenger of Duke Solomon who you can ignore. Without the Paladin, he is nothing but a scared fool in the woods." He pauses for a moment and reconsiders his second order. "On second thought, you can put the fool out of his misery since he has caused me some trouble. Take some of my zombies to help you, but they do not have to return. Return as soon as the Paladin and the messenger are dead. Any questions?"

The demon draws a curved sword made out of ebony metal, swinging it to see how it moves outside of the Chaos Void. "The Hellfire Elves have been the most feared assassins for centuries. I will not return until I have destroyed my prey. Do you wish for me to be seen by my target?"

"No," the Lich angrily snaps, his teeth clacking together. "Make sure nobody sees you. I do not know how strong this Paladin is. He might be able to banish you if you give him time to react. Also, the messenger is under the Goddess of Luck's protection and has managed to evade my minions thanks to her blessing. It will be easier to dispatch him if he does not know you are there. Use my zombies as decoys."

With a low bow, the Hellfire Elf vanishes in a puff of brimstone. The Lich calmly sits in his chair as the sound of heavy footsteps pass through an illusionary wall. A shadow separates from the gloom, silently slipping through a crack in the floor. The rotting necrocaster lets out an ear-rending laugh and his revelry is joined by another voice that emanates raw, terrifying power. The deeper voice vanishes, leaving the Lich to lift his goblet of foul liquid toward the ceiling.

"It appears someone has been eavesdropping. I propose a toast to Gabriel the Destiny Weaver. May he be entertained by what is about to happen to his pawns."

*****

"Unnatural beast," growls a silky voice that passes over the oceans and returns to the throat of its patient mistress.

A gorgeous Elven woman with chocolate brown hair stands on the pristine shores of Ambervale. The goddess turns away from the open ocean, forcing her mind to focus on the sound of nearby music. She takes a deep breath to calm herself while her regal companion lets his mood sink into darkness. A storm brewing on the horizon grows stronger with every snarl that escapes the male god's lips. An earth-shaking rumble stops the joyous music for a few seconds, but the other gods quickly go back to their blissful celebrations. Only a few lesser gods venture to the high cliffs and peer down on their serious brethren. The elf-woman waves them away before her companion decides to take his anger out on them.

The goddess turns back to the man who is staring at her with a wild glimmer in his green eyes. He grins wide enough for his ivory teeth to shimmer in the sunlight. She returns the expression with a feral growl that causes his lips to transform into an amused smirk. The goddess knows what the raven-haired man is going to ask without him uttering a word. It has been the same argument for the last month and it is finally time for her to graciously lose the debate. If she were stronger then she would deny his request, but nobody can stand up to this god and walk away in one piece. Even the other gods fear the power of Gabriel, the Tri-Fold God who rules Hell, the Chaos Void, and forges the destiny of mortals.

"Speak your mind, Uli," he requests.

"I do not like this course of action, Gabriel," she declares, her golden eyes narrowing to slits. "He is not ready for this. Send the other one and give the boy more time."

The god turns his back with a flourish of his cape and pats the hilt of his crystalline longsword. A whistle from his lips causes a painful tremor to pass through Uli's well-toned body. Facing her again, Gabriel's eyes change from emerald to a pale green.

"Excuse me, my dear, but I am the God of Destiny. It is time to put an end to this and we need our most powerful tools on the board. Even the effect of free will cannot stop these events from reaching their climax. The boy is the heir to a great legacy, which I have spent centuries forging. He will be ready by the time his power and courage is needed. If he does fail then he will give us a few more years to prepare a stronger set of champions."

Uli clenches her fist and swears in an archaic form of Elven. "This does not mean I have to approve of it. He is one of my devoted and I feel he is not ready. The boy has not accomplished any heroic deeds and his skills are barely above average. His potential is great, but you cannot guarantee he will mature in time to meet his destiny."

"I do not care whose devoted he is. That boy has an important role to play in the coming storm," Gabriel snaps, waving his hand to silence her. The look of insulted honor on Uli's face makes him lick his lips. "Most of the other gods are turning a blind eye toward the danger on the horizon. We are two of the few who have bothered to get as involved as we can without breaking the law of influence. This boy is important to our plans, so we will use him. I have already sent an emissary to point him in the right direction. He is going in the proper direction as we speak, but he needs a little . . . inspiration. If your predictions of failure come to fruition then maybe the other gods will see the importance of our work and help. My point, dearest Uli, is that something good will come from the boy even if he dies."

Sick of the conversation, the Destiny God walks away and whistles an angry tune. A ripple of magic flows from his lips, changing a passing robin into a fearsome tiger that crashes into the shifting water. The confused beast panics and attempts to fly while the strong currents drag it out to sea. Uli extends a calloused hand toward the tiger and uses her magic to bring it to shore. The large cat rubs against her leg while chirping and singing like a bird.

"Send him to what may be his death, but I will be watching over him," she claims, storming away with the tiger in tow. "Unlike you, Hell Lord, I care about my devoted."

"Your devoted?" Gabriel says, chuckling in amusement. He creates a golden orb that hovers in front of his face. Deep inside the scrying globe is the image of a young half-elf running through a distant forest. "Last time I checked, dear Uli, his path was in my hands."
1

Visindor Forest remains at peace as it has every morning for centuries. Birds sing and shimmering pixies play tag in the warm sunlight. Glistening droplets of dew cover the leaves and grass as animals venture from their homes. A low grunt echoes throughout the wilderness, causing all other sounds to stop for a few seconds. The grunt returns minutes later, but it is too far away to scare the timid forest creatures. It is a landscape of serenity that painters strive to capture.

No place is more peaceful than where a tumbling brook cascades into a deep lake. It is an isolated area where slender naiads bathe and a herd of red-hide deer drink. The only sound that does not fit with the rest of the morning stirrings comes from the lakeshore. This constant, steady grinding noise catches the attention of several pixies, who cautiously approach the lone swordsman. They soon realize they have nothing to fear as the youth smells like the forest and emits an aura of calm. Instinctually, the pixies know he is trained in the ways of the wild and would never hurt them. It is the adult noble shepherd curled by the smoking remains of a fire that makes the tiny creatures nervous. The pixies tiptoe through the air, trying to get a closer look at the youth without disturbing the dog. They are within a few feet of the swordsman when the dog stirs and barks, shattering the morning peace.

"You sleep through the call of a dread boar, but sneaking pixies wake you?" the young warrior asks, patting the beast on the rump. In response, the stubborn dog barks louder at the pixies. "Calm down, Stiletto. They don't mean any harm. Grandpa said pixies never attack unless their soul tree is threatened. So be careful where you relieve yourself."

The youth's face and body show very few signs of battle or harsh traveling. The pieces of leather armor on his forearms and torso are as smooth and pristine as the day they were crafted. His dirty face is handsome with none of the scars or stress lines one would expect to find on a wandering warrior. Even his dark blond hair is well groomed, which is incredibly rare among adventurers. Most people would think he was new to the road, but his boots tell a different tale. Once high-grade leather with silver embroidery, they are beaten shadows of their former glory. Dried mud covers much of the leather and only flecks of silver remain of what must have been an intricate pattern. To say these boots were well-used would be an understatement.

Getting tired of the noise, the young man puts down his twin sabers and tosses a piece of dried meat to the dog. A blue pixie lands on one of the youth's pointy ears and walks around his cheek to inspect his face. It gently wipes at a smudge of dirt on his nose. With a giggle, the tiny creature returns to its friends, who are hiding behind the wide leaf of an oak. They rejoin the larger group of pixies that are playing a game of tag through the trees.

"Now, this is the freedom we were meant to have," the young warrior declares. "Beats being stuck home and not seeing anything beyond Haven's borders. Right, Stiletto?"

The swordsman goes back to sharpening his blades, taking some time to buff the smooth ruby embedded in the pommel of each weapon. Tucking the rag into his belt, the youth makes a final inspection of the beautiful blades. He stops abruptly and sheaths the sabers with a muttered curse.

"Who the hell am I kidding? This isn't what I want at all! We left home six months ago and I haven't done anything heroic yet. All of my ancestors were great heroes of Windemere, so why should I be any different? The bards make adventuring seem so glamorous and easy, but there is so much competition. All these mercenaries and experienced heroes keep beating me to the big jobs. They get to fight demons, Weapon Dragons, and trolls while I'm left with scraps. All I want is to go down in history as a great hero who saved some part of Windemere. Not some pathetic slayer of nuisances like skeletons and rabid goblins. Is it so wrong to want to be as great as your ancestors?"

The dog rolls his eyes as if he has heard this rant many times before. He yawns and snorts as his friend paces between two maple trees.

"Don't start! All I've done so far is stop goblin raids and minor undead from destroying nearby farms. Look at me! I haven't even been touched, so people don't believe I've even been in a fight. I know I'm helping people, but I need something bigger. The dangers around here are far too easy to defeat. Look, Stiletto, we both know I'm highly skilled and that nothing frightens me. At least, nothing I've seen so far. Still, I didn't run when I faced my first zombie or my first orc, which has to count for something. When do I get to prove to all of Windemere that I have what it takes to be a great hero?" He stops pacing and stares at the morning sky, a few wispy clouds passing overhead. "I'm fed up doing small jobs. Today, I'm going to find an actual adventure and start on my path to being a hero. Are you with me, old friend?"

The young man bends down to pat Stiletto on the head while the dog chews on the piece of dried meat. "Lots of help you are. The least you can do is stop eating while I talk. It was a good rant too."

The snap of a twig catches the warrior's attention and he whirls around with both sabers drawn. Standing next to a tree is a slender woman wearing an elegant gown of silver satin, which contrasts with her long, fiery hair. The youth is slightly taken aback by her ethereal beauty, but finally manages to peer directly into her sapphire eyes. Something about her is familiar, but he cannot concentrate long enough to remember where he has seen her before. He feels like he is compelled to break eye contact by something deep within his bones.

"I heard that forest trackers have some of the fastest reactions in the mortal world, but I never had the pleasure of meeting one before today," the woman says, looking a little worried and concerned. "You are Luke Callindor, right? I would feel very foolish if I approached the wrong half-elf. There are so many more of your kind on Windemere since the last time I left Ambervale."

Luke stares in awe for a few seconds, struggling to find his voice. "Yes, I am. This is incredible. I never met a goddess before. I've heard of people meeting with gods and goddesses, but I never thought I would, especially with Zaria. The Goddess of Purity is one of the patron deities of my hometown. I mean, you are one of our patron deities."

"I am impressed you recognized me so quickly," the goddess says with a warm smile. "I typically have to give mortals a hint or introduce myself. It is all because those silly artists insist on giving me blonde hair instead of red."

"I saw a gemstone statue of you when I was five. I never forgot what it looked like. You probably already know this, but I have bard's memory. So, I remember every detail I ever see. It may take a few minutes for me to recall the information, but it's stuck in my brain somewhere. It comes in handy when wandering the wilderness." Luke blushes when he realizes he is rambling to the deity and clears his throat. "So, why are you looking for me? I'm a forest tracker who wants an adventure. You don't happen to have one for me, do you?"

His bright, green eyes give away his joy at possibly receiving a mission from the gods. Zaria cannot help but smile at the ecstatic expression on his face. Her smile covers the misgivings she has about what she must do to the boy. Like Uli, she is unconvinced that the young warrior is ready for what Gabriel wishes to put him through. Unlike her friend, Zaria knows there is no stopping events from unfolding. She would rather send Luke off with hope and excitement instead of whatever horrible method Gabriel would use. Her focus faltering, the goddess dwells on how much she loathes the God of Destiny and how she has to work with him to solve their mutual problem. Remembering the half-elf, Zaria snaps out of her trance with a gentle shake of her head, her red hair leaving sparks in the air.

"Your enthusiasm is very alarming, as is the announcement of your abilities. You are a friendly person, Luke, but you cannot trust everyone with your secrets," the goddess warns him while touching his arm. "I have been sent to converse with you on the behalf of the gods. We know you desire to be a great hero and we believe you will reach your goal. You have many of the qualities and skills a hero needs, but you lack the discipline that will bring you to victory. In truth, I do not believe you are mentally ready for the adventures you seek."

Luke shakes his hand free of the goddess, stepping as close to her as he can without touching her. He is a little taller than Zaria, so he moves back in order to look her in the eye. He stares long and hard at the goddess, never breaking eye contact. The half-elf attempts to speak once or twice, but no words come out. It is unclear to Zaria whether facing a god has caused his near silence or he is unsure what to say.

"It is impressive that you can stand up to a goddess of my caliber. You are a brave boy, but you need more than that to succeed," the goddess states, her hand falling to where a sword would normally be worn. "If it was my choice, I would give you more time to mature, but the choice is not mine. Please, do not mistake my statement as an obstacle to your success. I simply worry that you are being sent to a premature death, but it is out of my hands. I am a mere messenger this day."

Luke takes a few more steps back as Stiletto walks over to lick his hand. "Why are the gods interested in me?"

"You will uncover that answer one day, but I can only point you in the right direction," the Pure One replies as she senses a few prying eyes in the sky. She takes a deep breath and fights the temptation to wave to her curious brethren. "Your life's journey is about to begin and it will be a difficult journey to the end. That is if you are able to make it all the way down your path in the first place. I will not lie to you and say it is predetermined that you will succeed or live through the adventures ahead."

Luke bends down to scratch Stiletto behind his ears, causing Zaria to frown and cross her arms at his casualness. He silently nods and goes into his backpack to pull out a brown, Elven flute. The half-elf plays a slow song on the curvy instrument, earning a response from a songbird, and tucks it into a belt loop

"How old are you, Luke?"

"I turned eighteen on the ninth of Kruma. That's six months ago if I've been reading the sky correctly. Why do you ask?"

The goddess sighs and her body slowly fades away as she speaks. "Most adventurers are older. Your youth is another reason for me to have doubts about directing you toward your destiny. Sadly, less patient gods will step in if I refuse to do this. Your path goes east toward the Hamilton Military Academy where a retired mercenary named Selenia Hamilton rules. That will be where you find your adventure."

"Wait a second! How am I going to get inside the academy? I've heard of places like this! They won't let me through the front door for free, Zaria! I'm too poor to afford this quest!"

Luke gets no response, so the half-elf tightens the fraying straps of his boots and gazes to the east. "Guess we're on our own, Stiletto. At least the academy is in the direction we were already heading. If nothing turns up and we can't do anything at the academy then we can go into the Caster Swamp. I've heard all about the necrocasters, giltris, and other nasty monsters living there. Sounds like there's enough in that place to keep veteran warriors busy for a few days, which means I can easily find a challenge."

Taking some time to stretch beforehand, Luke breaths deeply and sprints through Visindor Forest. Stiletto is at his heels, but the pace is very difficult for the lumbering dog to maintain for too long. The panting beast falls a few feet behind while Luke gracefully runs around trees and leaps over rocks that get in his way.

*****

"What is this important mission that Duke Solomon has for me?" asks a tall man in shiny platemail.

The towering warrior stands in the middle of a clearing with the remains of a large campsite scattered around him. A gray stallion quietly grazes nearby while the shuddering messenger uses the beast's saddle as a chair. The terrified man is incredibly pale and his bloodshot eyes rarely blink, effects of having barely slept since escaping Rodillen. He takes several deep breaths and gives a scroll to the Paladin, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"That is a sketch of the person you are to protect," the messenger says as the warrior unrolls the parchment. "It's a terrible picture, but all of the important features will be recognizable. I am sorry that I cannot go into any more detail out loud. We don't know who or what could be listening, so I must remain vague, sir."

"Who is this person? Has some vile villain captured him? I will use all my powers to rescue him and make sure he is safely returned to your lord. You have my word as a Paladin of Ram. The God of War does not permit the weak to become his devoted, so you can rest assured that I am one of the strongest warriors in these parts."

The messenger stares at the shiny warrior with a tired, numb expression. "I will take your word for it. I have another scroll that explains your mission. Again, I do not wish to speak of the particulars. All I can say is that the life of Duke Solomon's heir is in danger. You will be going to a military academy and working as a guest instructor. Nobody in the academy must be aware of your true mission and it must remain that way for the heir's safety. The gods themselves have told Duke Solomon that this should be a secret."

"I excel at secret missions. One time I pretended to be a treasury guard in order to apprehend a great guild master. That thief did not have the slightest idea that a Paladin was waiting for him," the towering warrior gloats, tucking the picture into an armor compartment. "Furthermore, I have years of experience instructing young warriors in the ways of combat. Many of my students have died a hero's death in the thick of battle, which is the sign of a great teacher. I promise that during this mission I will be watching out for this young man and protecting him with my life. That will be both my first and second priority. Is there anything else of importance?"

Rising to his feet, the messenger takes a drink from a waterskin and shudders at the taste of stale water. An old heron bursts from the trees, startling the jittery man. His loud shriek echoes throughout the forest as he scurries behind the Paladin. He regains his composure while he watches the bird fly toward a distant lake.

"My apologies, sir, but this mission has done great damage to my nerves. Between you and me, I wish you would take this mission with less bravado," the messenger requests, struggling to choke down his fear. "I regret to inform you that a persistent Lich is trying to capture the heir and it is closing in on the academy. We do not know what kinds of agents he uses to get his information, so you must be cautious. Are you willing to take on this mission with such a monster in the shadows?"

"A Lich is nothing compared to the denizens of the Chaos Void I have defeated in my time," the Paladin declares, picking up a broadsword and a shield with a rearing bull emblazoned on it. He swings his weapons as if acting out an old battle, his motions consisting of slow blocks and slashes at an invisible foe. "One time I came across a Spurge. The bulbous demon was attacking a pig farm outside of Gods' Voice when I happened to be passing by. It took me days to defeat that demon because I had no way to hinder its regenerative abilities. I eventually cornered the monster in a nearby cave and slew it. Then, I sealed the cave to make sure nobody could revive the demon. Let me tell you that it was a fight worthy of my title."

"I should give you the other scroll, so you have more information on this mission," the messenger says, trying to hold back his nervous laughter.

As the man hands the second scroll to the Paladin, a strange sound cuts through the natural voice of Visindor. The noise reminds both men of dirt being shoveled, but it is much louder and coming from beneath their feet. They look in time to see the stallion dragged underground by decaying hands, the horse shrieking in terror.

"Oh no! They found me! We have to hide!" the messenger cries, clambering up the nearest tree. From the hole that the stallion was pulled into, several rotting corpses emerge to shamble toward the Paladin.

"Ha! They are zombies," announces the warrior, unimpressed by the monsters. "Their rotting flesh and stench of the grave have no effect on a warrior with my experience and courage. I have slain thousands of them in my lifetime. There is not a zombie in the world that could defeat a seasoned Paladin of my caliber. Take this!"

The holy warrior lifts his broadsword over his head and a searing blast of light erupts from the crossguard. Three of the zombies burst into white flames, the others averting their eyes until the light is gone. A low snicker can be heard from the forests, but neither of the men can locate the source of the noise.

The Paladin stares at the remaining zombies, his confusion evident. "This is not right. My power should have destroyed them all unless they are not normal zombies. I suppose more basic tactics are in order. Charge!"

He leaps into the moaning cluster of undead, his wordless battle cry echoing among the trees. The seasoned warrior hacks and slashes while the monsters beat dents into his shiny armor. The messenger watches from the branches, his heart leaping into his throat when he feels the tree lurch to one side. He looks down to see a pair of persistent zombies trying to push his hiding place down.

"I hate my life," the messenger mutters as the tree falls. Luckily, his tunic catches on a towering oak, tangling him in its branches. Groaning in dismay, the zombies follow their prey and attempt to knock this much thicker tree down.

The Paladin continues to fight the undead when he hears a horse neighing behind him. With a hopeful smile on his face, he turns to see the bleeding corpse of his loyal stallion galloping out of the earth. The Paladin's face pales at the sight of the undead horse standing at the edge of the gaping hole, the beast staring at its former master. Blood oozes out of its open throat and chunks of flesh are missing from its belly and hindquarters.

"This is not possible! Nothing can create a zombie so quickly. What dark magic is at work here? Show yourself, foul demon!"

The Paladin gets his shield up to defend against the charge of the zombie horse, but a stabbing pain hits him in the back of his neck. He drops his shield and feebly grabs for whatever punched through the chainmail protecting his armor's weak point. He finds a long, wooden shaft and sharp feathers sticking out of his neck, a chill running through his bones at its touch. The warrior feels his blood churn inside him, the precious liquid getting magically expelled from his body.

"This is not possible! I am a Paladin!" he screams, blood spewing from his eyes. The warrior is unable to see the stallion charging at him and he is crushed to death by his once loyal steed.

"Cessia protect me. Cessia protect me," the messenger whimpers as the tree falls to the ground. He bounces off a flexible branch and lands unharmed on a patch of soft ground. The zombies are almost on top of him when a flash of motion cuts their heads off. Both bodies fall on the messenger, who scrambles away from the foul-smelling remains.

"Are you hurt?" Luke asks, stepping over the twitching corpses. Stiletto is quietly watching the other zombies feast on the Paladin, urgently barking as soon as the monsters turn toward the half-elf.

"Run into the forest and I'll find you!" Luke yells as he calmly approaches the hungry zombies. "Watch over him, Stiletto! I'll be fine!"

The undead horse is the first to reach the forest tracker, knocking him into a large maple with a swing of its bloodied head. The young warrior jumps onto a low branch and leaps onto the horse's back, ignoring the mild pain in his shoulders. Luke slices the monster's head off and pounces at the other groaning zombies. He spins in mid-air, hacking two of them down and gracefully landing in front of the others.

"No time for showing off here," Luke whispers, his sabers rapidly cut through the remaining undead. Every one of his fluid motions melts into the next, turning all of the zombies into rotting pieces of flesh in the blackening grass.

"His speed and agility are incredible for someone so young," the messenger says, observing the brief battle. "It's like he is made out of water or is one with the air around him. Thank you, Cessia, for sending him to me."

Turning to yell at the lingering messenger, Luke notices a shadow moving on the other side of the clearing. He is ready to give chase, but the mysterious form fires a black arrow before he can take a step. The half-elf deflects it with his sabers, the projectile thudding into a nearby birch. Only Stiletto is watching as the arrow burrows into the tree, turning the leaves black. By the time the young warrior reaches the far side of the clearing, the shadow is gone, having left a deep sword gouge in a boulder.

Luke sprints back to the messenger, his senses focused on his surroundings. "We have to go now before something worse than zombies arrives."

"I whole-heartedly agree, young man," the messenger says, obediently following the forest tracker.

An hour passes and the clearing remains as silent and ominous as a graveyard. The quiet is destroyed when one of the decapitated zombies explodes and the Lich rises out of the bloody mist. He can barely believe what he has seen through his scrying, so he carefully inspects the carnage around him. The zombies rot at his touch as he checks their fresh injuries and removes all evidence they were there.

"The Hellfire Elf did well against the Paladin, but I did not expect another warrior to get involved in my affairs so quickly. I should have told my pet to remove all threats instead of naming specific targets," the necrocaster whispers, as if he is talking to an invisible ally. He rips the cracked skull of the Paladin out of the trampled corpse, tucking it into his sleeve. "No matter. Cessia must have used him to save her follower. If the boy gets in my way again then I will have my assassin take care of him. The heir of Duke Solomon will be ours, but for now I will safely watch events unfold and let my servant do his job."

*****

Luke stops running when he comes to a river, turning to check on the sobbing messenger limping a few feet behind him. Stiletto trots next to the stranger, keeping a cautious eye on him. The protective dog walks away to get a drink, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to growl at the messenger. He barks as a small river shark leaps out of the water and grabs a passing sparrow. The sudden noise startles the nervous man while Luke watches the current take the scattered feathers away.

"Don't worry. River sharks would never attack anything bigger than a crow or a young rabbit," the half-elf says, taking a seat on a tree stump. Stiletto saunters over and lies down in the grass at his feet, enjoying a gentle pat on the head.

"You were incredible back there. I have never seen anyone fight like you," the messenger declares, an exhilarating surge of excitement in his heart. Without warning, the man hugs Luke and kisses him on the cheek. "You destroyed those zombies without wasting a single motion. May I ask where you learned such an amazing style?"

"Calm down there! I was taught the Whirlwind of Uli style by my grandfather, Talos Callindor. My name is Luke Callindor," the young adventurer replies, struggling with the clingy messenger. "There's no need to invade my personal space. Stop it! I told you what you wanted! Let me go!"

"You mean the great forest tracker, Talos 'Doubleblade' Callindor? He is your grandfather? This is perfect! The Paladin is dead, so I need another great warrior. Cessia's dice must be in my favor today. You are a great hero, right?"

Luke manages to push the grateful man off and takes a few steps back. He is about to tell the messenger the truth, but remembers Zaria sent him in this direction. A charming smile crosses the young warrior's face as he grabs the messenger's hand, pumping it up and down in a firm handshake.

"I'd be happy to help you with whatever you need," Luke announces. Stiletto rolls his eyes and goes to sit by the river as if he does not want to be a part of this. "I have been wandering these woods for a long time now and I have fought many . . . uh . . . things."

The man frees his sore hands from the young warrior's tight grip. "Such as? You are rather young, but I'm not one to make such a judgment when it comes to heroes. Maybe you can give me some examples of your deeds."

"I started with stopping goblin attacks and the occasional zombie infestation in the surrounding areas. You know, the usual jobs that all warriors begin with," Luke explains as he rubs the pommels of his swords against his palms. "My first big adventure was rescuing a priestess from a band of kobolds. I went to save her only to find they were obeying an ogre, which I wasn't ready for it. I won, but the priestess had to drag me back to the village where I spent the next two days being healed. Then there was the time I was ambushed by giltris and spent a few days as their prisoner. I escaped by using swamp mud to hide myself from them since their vision is based on body heat. They almost caught me when it started raining, but I left some pit traps and snares behind to keep them busy. Lately, I've been doing small skirmish control around the Gaian farmlands and forests. It feels good to take it easy, but I'm getting . . . restless."

"I'm impressed considering you have no visible scars. The giltris should have left some marks unless you know a powerful healer."

"The priestess I saved was kind enough to care for me a second time. She has since moved on to Canst's Field, so I have to be more careful these days," the half-elf lies without hesitation. A pang of guilt makes him cringe, but he covers it with a fake sneeze. "Now, nothing would please me more than to help Duke Solomon. His kindness and wisdom are well known in my village and my parents have only told me good things about him. What is this assignment?"

"The heir to the Serabic kingdom is being hunted by a Lich. Our agents have kept the heir in a safe place, but we fear it is only a matter of time until the Lich strikes," the messenger says, sitting down on the tree stump. "Forgive me, but I cannot say the heir's name or anything about this person due to the magic at the Lich's disposal. We believe that while the Lich knows where the heir is, it does not know what the heir looks like. In any case, the Duke needs someone to get into Hamilton Military Academy and protect the heir. Have you had any dealings with Liches before?"

"Sorry. I haven't had any encounters with powerful undead," Luke admits, relieved that he can be honest for once. The disappointment on the man's face brings another lie bubbling to his lips. "I have fought casters and, thankfully, I'm quick enough to dodge most combat spells. Casters are mortal, so a stab to the vitals works on them. Of course, a Lich is more complicated, but I'm sure I'll figure something out. Do you have a picture of the heir?"

"Give me a minute."

He rummages through his pockets and whines when he remembers that both scrolls were with the Paladin. Calming down, he pulls out a fresh piece of parchment and a magical quill from a cloak pocket. The messenger writes as carefully as he can, his tongue peeking out from between his lips. Once he is done, he uses a ring from a belt component to create a wax seal and hands the scroll to Luke. A sudden splashing makes the man jump and spin around to see Stiletto trying to catch a trout in the river. The dog yelps when the fish leaps out of the water and slaps him with its tail.

"That is your letter of introduction," he tells Luke, becoming less jumpy as the dream of going home becomes more of a reality. "Both of the original scrolls were with the Paladin who was killed by those zombies. On your scroll I have stated your name and previous training. A copy has been magically sent to the Duke, so he is aware of the situation. His majesty will be paying for your enrollment in the academy because you won a tournament held in the city of Freedom. Enrollment to the academy was your request upon victory. You will be placed in the advanced classes, so I hope you are prepared for tough lessons."

"I've survived worse than anything this academy can dish out," the forest tracker claims with a confident smirk.

"Selenia Hamilton is a very strict headmistress and you will have to be careful to keep your true purpose a secret from everyone, especially her. She will not be happy to know that this mission is going on without her approval. So, please be careful because the life of the heir depends on you staying in charge of the situation. Furthermore, do not tell any students or instructors about why you are really there. If they find out then they might attempt to locate the heir themselves. The Duke does not want the heir to know he has sent an agent into the academy or that there is danger. My lord desires minimal interference with the heir's studies. Do you understand all that I have said?"

Luke scratches his head and tucks the scroll into his belt. "I think I understand, but I need a picture of the heir."

The messenger stares at his feet, kicking at a few stones. "I lost the sketch when the Paladin was killed and I have never personally seen the heir. I do not even know what the heir's gender is. All I know is that the heir is a first year student at the academy, which is always the largest class of the semester. This mission is becoming a disaster."

"I swear I'll protect this person with my life," the half-elf says while putting his hand on the messenger's shoulder. He looks the man in the eye in the hope of coming off as more mature and serious. "I've seen Duke Solomon in passing when he visited Haven to personally purchase weapons from my father. Maybe I can use what I remember of his appearance to help me. On my honor as a forest tracker and a member of the Callindor family, I will succeed."

"Thank you, young sir!" the man exclaims, giving the warrior a brief hug. "I shall leave immediately to tell the Duke of your courage and see if any assistance can be sent."

With a final handshake, the messenger walks away and happily whistles as he goes. He is practically skipping by the time he is a faint form beyond the trees.

"That is one traumatized man, Stiletto. He sounded pretty scatter-brained, but I think I got the basics," Luke mentions, pulling out some stale rations to eat. He grimaces at the taste of the hard bread and dried beef. "If I remember my maps correctly, the academy shouldn't be too far away. Probably no more than half a day from here, so we will get some sleep and leave at night. That way we can arrive in time for a free breakfast. That's the best plan since I'm almost out of trail rations and hunting will waste time."

The pair yawn and scratch their heads in unison, proof that they have been together for years. "By the gods, running at top speed for a few miles then fighting zombies was more tiring than I thought. I must be out of shape, so a military academy will have some extra benefits. I'll take first watch and you take the second. Try not to get in a fight with a hawk this time, you big lug. You're allergic to their feathers and I don't want to carry you again. You aren't a puppy any more."

Stiletto stares at the half-elf before going back to wrestling with a small river shark he caught. The lively fish is thrashing its tail fin, but the dog keeps it pinned with his front paws. A victorious look is on the noble shepherd's face as he takes a bite out of the long dorsal fin.

"Don't look at me like that. I know exactly what I'm doing. Aside from the Lich and whatever shot at me, this should be easy. Besides, the heir could be killed if I don't take this job. So what if I lied about my experience? A person has to take opportunities when they get them. A few fibs used to earn an assignment to protect an innocent are a means to a noble end. So stop looking at me like that and go to sleep."

The dog finishes eating and rolls onto his side, falling asleep within minutes. Luke closes his eyes, contently absorbing the surrounding noises of Visindor Forest. The running water and singing birds make him drowsy, so he opens his eyes and draws his sabers to check them. His left hand saber is flawless while his right hand saber has a fresh scuffmark. The half-elf growls in annoyance and glances at Stiletto, who is peacefully smacking his lips in his sleep.

"That last zombie's ribcage was tougher than I expected. Guess I'll have to clean this blade before we get to the academy. Mom always said first impressions are essential."

He buffs and sharpens the weapon for a few minutes, sheathing the blade once it looks pristine. Lying down, the warm sunlight causes Luke to doze off. It is a few hours later when Stiletto wakes up to the smell of fresh blood, the dog following the scent to the riverbank. The half-elf remains in a deep sleep as his companion barks with all his might. Eventually, the dog gives up trying to get Luke's attention and sits on his haunches. Stiletto watches helplessly as the messenger's mutilated body is carried away by the strong currents. Several river sharks are already nibbling on the corpse as it fades into the distance.
2

The grass is still moist with dew by the time Luke and Stiletto come within sight of the military academy. The young warrior is awestruck by the academy, which is surrounded by an enormous wooden wall. Even more impressive than the fortification is the hundred-yard kill zone around the complex. The forest tracker feels exposed and defenseless as he crosses the space where nothing is taller than a blade of grass. There are no guards on the wall and the doors open to a peaceful courtyard where a few leafy shrubs have been planted. The grass of the courtyard is a crisp green, but it has been matted down from being constantly walked on by the students and instructors.

Most of the structures are one-story buildings with their fronts to the courtyard and their backs to the wall. Luke looks around, the half-elf can see a dark plume of smoke rising from behind a building with yellow flags along the roof. He assumes the smoke is coming from a blacksmith studio, but the smithy is out of sight. The only person in view is an elderly woman, who is peeling vegetables by a building with open windows and a cauldron sign above the door. Fearing that he will miss breakfast, Luke hurries past a lonely fountain and stops in front of a four-story building of gray stone. The central building resembles a gothic castle with gargoyles adorning the corner towers and two Elven knight statues standing guard at the entrance. The heavily reinforced doors open into a brightly lit lobby that leads the adventurer to a cluttered desk.

"Hello! Is anyone in here?" the half-elf calls out.

His voice echoes throughout the building as a lantern is turned on behind a nearby door. A gravelly, male voice swears in several languages and the door is kicked open. A middle-aged man steps out of the back room, limping to the desk with the help of a cane. His clothes are wrinkled and the ring of salt-and-pepper hair around his head is filled with knots. Only his black beard and mustache are neatly trimmed and groomed. The cane groans every time the muscular man puts his full weight on the flimsy tool. Luke takes note of the predatory look in the veteran's light brown eyes. As the man stops behind the desk, the only thought going through the forest tracker's mind is that this warrior must be a legend.

"Of course someone is here. Why would I leave the door open if nobody was in here? Now, what the hell do you want?" the grizzled man demands, clearing his throat and spitting into a vase. "You better not be some brat come to challenge Selenia. If so then you got another think coming because you look like you can barely hold your own against a five-year-old halfling who lost his favored arm to a rabid cat. So, what the hell do you want here?"

The old warrior slumps behind the oak desk, swinging his bum leg on top and knocking over a pile of scrolls. This accident leads to more swearing and a strong fist putting a small dent in the hardwood desk.

"Do you need some help, sir?" Luke asks, bending down to grab a scroll. Before he can register the sounds of movement, the man's cane strikes him in the back of the neck. The half-elf slowly gets up from the floor, rubbing the throbbing bruise.

"Some of my parts may be damaged, but that doesn't mean my speed and reflexes are destroyed. I don't need some puppy warrior to be my helper," the man snarls, using the cane to flip the scrolls back onto the desk. "So, do you have a name or should I make something up for you? Better make it quick because I don't have any patience this morning."

The young warrior bows and puts his hands behind his back, his best attempt at standing at attention. "My name is Luke Callindor and I have come to train at this academy. Here is-"

The man laughs before the half-elf can finish his long-rehearsed introduction. "You're a Callindor? I should have known from those twin blades and the fire in your eyes, but I guess I'm not as sharp as I used to be. It's been a long time since I . . . dealt with one of your lineage. Is your family still living in Haven? It's been over a decade since I ventured out there. I used to be a great adventurer myself, but I don't get around much these days for obvious reasons." The old warrior pats his leg, grinning like a cagey wolf. "My name is Kevin Masterson."

"I've heard of you, sir. You're one of the greatest shortsword warriors alive and one of the legends who inspired me to become a warrior. Please excuse my admiration, sir," Luke says, his cheeks turning bright red. Kevin's amused snort helps the half-elf fight back his child-like awe and regain his composure. "Excuse me, sir, but I would like to state my reason for being here and why I should be accepted without my lineage playing a factor in your decision. I do not want to get by on my family name."

"Interesting . . . proceed," the veteran responds, a curious glint in his eyes.

"I won a tournament to gain a favor from Duke Solomon. I chose to be granted his sponsorship in attending this academy," the forest tracker quickly explains, producing the messenger's scroll. "Here is the scroll that his majesty told me to give to whoever was in charge of accepting new students."

The old warrior takes the scroll, reading it over as another wild grin crosses his face. He tucks the letter into his tunic and stands to get a better look at the newcomer. "We here at Hamilton Military Academy take in the best that Windemere has to offer. I agree that your name should not be enough to get you into our institution, but it helps whether you like it or not. Your victory in this tournament shows you have some skill, but I wish the Duke sent word ahead of you. This is the first I've ever heard of this and the only one who hates surprises more than me is Selenia."

"As I said, I chose this as my prize without the Duke's prior knowledge."

"You definitely sound like a Callindor," Kevin claims, his eyes narrowing into a challengingly gaze. "There are some questions I must ask before I agree to let you enroll. This letter tells me you were involved in a Weapon Dragon hunt. I find that very impressive considering you can't be any older than twenty and that's being generous. Weapon Dragons of any kind are for seasoned warriors. Care to explain how you helped?"

The forest tracker sweats while silently cursing the messenger. A tournament that never happened is easy to talk his way around since he entered enough real tournaments to know how they operate. A dragon hunt was another thing entirely since Luke has never seen a living Weapon Dragon much less fought one. The longer he thinks, the more the idea of trying to go along with such a claim sounds ridiculous. Any hunting party foolish enough to take an inexperienced member on such a journey would have been wiped out. Unless they hire the warrior as bait, but that scenario does not say much for Luke's common sense. The young half-elf smiles as a small lie forms in his mind and rolls down to his dry tongue.

Kevin lets out a bellowing cough, his eyes never flinching. "Well, kid. You better start yapping. I have better things to do than deal with a humble dragon hunter who can only grin like an idiot."

"I'm a forest tracker and my primary role was to help locate the Axe Dragon before it could cause more damage to the local villages," Luke slowly and carefully explains. His hands fall to his sabers, the touch of their hilts relaxing him. "It was a job I received through the Serabian military, so I had a small army to hide . . . I mean, work with. During the actual slaying, I went for the eyes because the rest of the body was too heavily armored for my sabers to cut through. At the time, I was unaware I could slip my blades between the underbelly scales. To be completely honest, sir, I didn't get involved in the actual battle until the dragon was grounded and pinned. It was my first hunt and I was scared when it had full mobility. That hunt is part of the reason I'm hoping to train here. It showed that I needed to learn more than basic sword fighting to succeed as an adventurer."

"Still, you survived the hunt and you mentioned two of the few ways a swordsman can damage a Weapon Dragon," Kevin says before clearing his nose with a boorish snort. He wipes his hand on an ink-stained rag, which he tosses into a trash can. "From the wording of this scroll, we can't turn you away unless you prove you are unfit to be here. That means more than physical fitness, boy. Selenia and the other instructors will want a lot of discipline from you," the old warrior warns him, pulling out a fresh scroll and a short quill. "Now to give you class assignments. I'm signing you up for basic military tactics, advanced archery, blacksmithing, monster lore, handicap fighting, and geography. Selenia will decide on your other combat classes within a day or two. As you saw, we have four dormitories and one of them is for the female students only. I'll have your jewels on a dagger if I catch you in the girls' dorm. You're assigned to the Elfstar group, which resides in dormitory B. Your sergeant instructor is Thomas Strogan. Almost everyone is out for the morning run, except the cook, the blacksmith, the stable hands, and me. Meet with Thomas at breakfast and he'll show you where to store your things. Are there any other questions?"

Luke hears a sneeze from his right, reminding him of a final piece of business. "Where can Stiletto sleep, sir? It would be too dangerous to let him wander the grounds or release him into the forest."

The dog growls at the old warrior, earning a loud roar in return. Stiletto slinks behind Luke, keeping his eyes on the scary veteran. Kevin cracks a small smirk while fixing a stack of papers on his desk.

"We don't want the fleabag getting in the way of classes, so house him in the stables. They're in that direction and you can't miss them. One of the other sergeant instructors has Elven greyhounds, so there should be enough room for your drool bucket. Now, get going or you'll miss the food. By the way, I suggest you rest up because today was the last day you could sleep in. Tomorrow, you join the run."

"I'm looking forward to it," Luke happily replies, shaking Kevin's hand. "I promise to do my best."

"Get going, kid," the old warrior grumbles, waving the half-elf out of the building.

Luke sees the wooden stables near the academy entrance, the long building nestled behind two of the dormitories. As he crosses the courtyard, he passes the gurgling fountain made out of white marble. He stops to admire the stone figure of an angelic woman pointing a longsword to the sky, her wings folded against her back. Noticing some fish in the pool, Luke dips his hand in to pet one of them, letting out a small laugh when a few fish nibble at his fingertips. Stiletto barks at a distant raven, reminding the half-elf that he has to bring the noble shepherd to the stables.

"Sorry about that. I got a little distracted, buddy," the half-elf says, patting the dog on the head. "I haven't seen a marble statue of this quality since I saw one of my grandfather in Hero's Gate. You remember that one, Stiletto. I found you abandoned at its feet when I snuck away to get a last look after breakfast." The impatient dog snorts and growls, nudging Luke's leg with his head. "Fine. I'll stop reminiscing. We have work to do and a you-know-what to find."

*****

The second Luke steps through the large wooden doors of the stables, he is struck by the scent of hay and animals. He is surprised to find that the long, back wall of the stables is the defensive wall, several windows and doors opened wide to the killing field. He is sure he did not see them as he approached, but he guesses a protective illusion is at work. Having no knowledge of magic, he shrugs and examines the long row of neatly kept pens.

A young woman with dull, red hair is the only worker in the stables. She is busy tending to a gorgeous, royal blue war-horse at the far end of the stables. The mighty horse is blissfully enjoying the grooming, but it still takes a moment to glance in Luke's direction. The forest tracker hears shuffling to his right and finds a pack of slender greyhounds in a large pen. Stiletto is already approaching the smaller dogs, causing them to back away. A defiant yelp of a greyhound breaks the silence, the noble shepherd quietly staring at the terrified pack. Luke reaches over the gate to scratch one of the nervous dogs on the head. The others cautiously come up to sniff at his hand until he gently pulls it away.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he says, approaching girl and stopping a few feet away. "I was told I could leave Stiletto here while I'm attending the academy. Are you in charge?"

Another horse nuzzles his arm when he leans against its stall. Petting the brown mare's head, he pulls out a piece of dried fruit for her to eat. The friendly beast stretches her neck to snatch the food, but the young woman hits Luke's hand with an expertly thrown brush. The horse steps away from the half-elf, nervously watching its caretaker glare at them.

"My father keeps the horses on a strict diet," she declares, going back to brushing the war-horse. "If you want to help then grab that bucket of water and bring it to me."

Luke grabs the heavy bucket, dropping it next to her with more force than he intended. The cool water splashes on the girl's leg, causing her to glare at him again.

"Sorry about that. It was heavier than I expected and my hand slipped," he says, grabbing a horse blanket for her to dry off with. "My name is Luke. I just arrived here and Kevin told me that Stiletto could stay in the stables. Do you have a name? Not that I'm trying to demand anything. By the way, beautiful horse you're working with."

"I'm Jamie. This here is Bolt. We got her for Selenia when her last horse grew too old for battle," she explains with a gentle stroke to the horse's cheek. "She's a western Yagervan raised by halflings for strength and endurance. A more beautiful and powerful horse, I have never seen. Though I'm a youngling, so what do I know?"

Jamie snaps her fingers at Luke when he opens his mouth to ask a question. "I know the usual questions when people first meet Bolt, so I saved you the time. New recruits tend to talk too much and miss their first meal. If you don't waste time here then you'll fall asleep in the dorm or zone out standing on the wall. Fresh meat always think they have too much free time on their first day."

"I'm pretty hungry, so I wanted to drop off Stiletto and get breakfast," the half-elf says, scratching his head and shifting some hay with his foot.

"You can put Stiletto in the pen over there. It was made for a pony, but he's big enough for it to be a comfortable size for him," the young woman states, taking a closer look at the noble shepherd. "I'm impressed with the shape and health your pet is in since I'm assuming he's always on the road with you. You have the look of a traveler, so his diet must be varied and inconsistent. Rest assured that we'll take good care of your pet."

Jamie opens the door to the small pen for Stiletto, only for the dog to back away and grunt at her. Reaching for him, she gives the dog a warm smile to calm him down, but Stiletto dodges her hands at the last second. A scowl on her face, the young woman pulls out a piece of jerky, gingerly holding it out for the dog. A look of triumph crosses her face when Stiletto drools and steps toward her. The victory is short-lived when he barrels into her, snatches the jerky from her hand, and happily returns to Luke's side. Jamie scrambles to her feet, wiping the hay from her clothes and ignoring the pieces sticking out of her wild hair.

"Stiletto isn't my pet. He's my best friend. Let me talk to him," the forest tracker politely requests, giving the dog a kiss on the top of his head. "I wouldn't like to be penned up either. Though, I guess I am contained in this academy if you think about it. Unfortunately, I can't let you wander around this place without getting both of us into trouble. I promise to visit you every chance I get and take you out for runs in the forest. Besides, you're going to be pampered here while I get worked to death. So, enjoy yourself and play nice."

Replying with a snort, Stiletto walks up to Jamie and allows her to lead him into the pen. After closing the door, she waves to Luke and goes back to grooming Bolt. The muscular horse keeps its eyes on the half-elf, who scratches the noble shepherd on the chin and leaves. The half-elf is so busy thinking of ways to find the heir that he bumps into a heavily armored dwarf. He is thankful that he did not walk into one of the shoulder spikes sticking out of the foggy platemail. Although, one look at the old dwarf's face tells him that the burly man is not happy about the jostle. The growling man's gray beard is practically bristling with a sudden surge of rage.

"I'm very sorry. I should pay more attention to where I'm going, sir."

"Watch where you're going, crazy kid. Goddamn toddlers think they own the place," the dwarf growls, his voice deep and tinged with annoyance. "I don't believe I know you, kid. I'm Duggan Ironcaster, your taskmaster if you take blacksmithing. So, who in the Holy One's name are you? You better make it a real good answer because I hate long, drawn out names or moronic nicknames that young folk seem to have nowadays. I remember when all you needed was your first name and a sturdy fist to make a memorable introduction."

"My name is Luke Callindor. I arrived this morning and I haven't quite gotten over the excitement of being here," the half-elf humbly replies. The teacher looks him over and spits on the young warrior's boots. With a glimmer in his sapphire eyes, Duggan slaps the new student on the back hard enough to knock the youth off-balance.

Regaining his footing, Luke wants to ask about the spitting, but the dwarf is already walking away. The few dwarves he has met would slap each other on the back for any reason, but it was always supportive and brotherly. The spitting is a new and confusing gesture that he is sure will gnaw at him for the rest of the day unless he gets an answer. The worst that could happen is he gets a reputation for being a fool. Luke considers such a tactic because if people think he is an idiot then it might be easier for him to find to the heir. Deciding he has nothing to lose, he swiftly catches up to the dwarf, which seems to irritate the short man.

"Is spitting on someone's boots a Dwarven custom, sir?"

The blacksmith whirls around faster than the half-elf ever imagined an armored dwarf could move. The expression of seething anger on Duggan's face causes a lump to get stuck in Luke's throat. He is surprised and scared when the dwarf breaks into gut-shaking laughter. His orange tears fall to the grass, causing a small fire that he stomps out. Still laughing, the dwarf gives Luke a solid punch to the stomach, the young warrior gasping for air and falling to one knee. It takes a lot of effort for him to stand after the unexpected blow and Duggan is already walking away by the time he can talk again.

"Is everyone here in a bad mood?" Luke mutters, rubbing his sore and growling stomach. "I better get breakfast before the students return. That should give me some time to think unless the cook is some easily angered ex-warrior who thinks anyone below the age of twenty-five is an arrogant punk."

*****

"Remember to eat everything on your plate, dear. Old Betty has to keep you growing warriors fed, so there shouldn't be any reason to waste food," the elderly woman says while handing Luke a large plate of food. "Now, have a seat over there and enjoy the stampede. Try not to get your feet stepped on, dear."

The half-elf smiles at the pleasant woman, her cheerful demeanor helping him forget his rough morning. On the metal plate is a thick, yellow mush, a slice of wheat bread, a pile of steamed vegetables, and an apple. The smell of the fresh food pulls at his stomach, which is rumbling at the scent of a real meal instead of stale rations.

"Thanks. Would you mind telling me what this is, Betty?" he politely asks, taking a glass of water from a nearby table. "I've never seen anything like it and it smells delicious."

The elderly woman heaves a large, red clay cauldron onto the counter. Betty tries to balance the pot while whispering an incantation, the sloshing of mush being heard every time the container teeters. Four stubby legs grow out of the wide bottom to balance the enchanted cookware, allowing her to let go and wipe her hands on her apron.

"I'm not really clear on what it is," she admits, tenderly stroking the rim of the cauldron. "This magic pot can turn any combination of three foods into a nutritious mush that is perfect for maintaining energy and health. You don't have to fret about what I feed you, dear. I know what I am doing and I've been the academy cook since it opened. Be thankful Selenia isn't allowed to cook any more. Last time she tried, we had to use one of the dormitories for an extra medical station."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever see Selenia in the kitchen," Luke says, making his way to a table near the wall.

His eyes water with joy when he swallows the first forkful of the delicious mush. He realizes how long it has been since he had a real meal and even longer since he had something home-cooked. Luke takes a few more savory bites, trying to identify the mixing flavors. His best guess is pork sausage, honey-soaked corn cakes, and a tart syrup to counter the sweetness of the honey. He can see Betty proudly grinning behind the counter while preparing more plates for the breakfast rush.

Luke is chewing on his bread when he hears a small army jogging toward the cafeteria. A wave of voices hits him as the door opens, causing his ears to ring. Close to seven hundred sweaty students and instructors swarm into the building, many of them fatigued and moving on stiff legs. The students loudly talk amongst themselves, but there are so many conversations that Luke can only catch a few words from each one. Giving up on eavesdropping, he concentrates on memorizing as many classmates as he can. There are members of several races within the mob, including a towering female half-orc with flawless blonde hair running down to her knees. She catches him staring, so she bares her sharp incisors and releases a threatening growl. Another male half-elf sits next to him, quietly sipping at a cup of tea. The black-haired youth is dressed in dull yellow robes with a spiraling sun symbol emblazoned on the chest.

"You must be new here. What's your name?" asks a high-pitched voice, stopping Luke from talking to the priest.

Luke faces a curly haired halfling, who is taking the open seat to his left. The smell of sawdust hits the forest tracker's nose as the happy fellow pats his clothes. Clearing his throat, the friendly figure rubs an apple on the only clean spot of his shirt. It takes Luke a few seconds to realize the apple in the halfling's hand is his own.

"My name is Luke and I believe you took my apple," the half-elf replies, snatching the glossy fruit back. The halfling flashes him a charming smirk, pulling out a block of wood to casually whittle.

"I'm Nimby. I teach carpentry and work on structure repairs here. So, what brings you to this place? Where did you come from? Where did you get those weapons? Have you been given a schedule yet?"

"That's a lot of questions in one breath," Luke says once his ears catch up to Nimby's voice. He takes a bite of his apple and puts it on his plate, hoping the missing piece prevents the halfling from stealing it again. "I won a tournament and the prize was a reward of my choice, so I requested a semester here. I need more training and I've heard so much about this place that it made perfect sense to enroll. I think I missed the rest of your questions. You talk pretty fast, Nimby."

Luke takes a sip of his water, swiftly grabbing his apple when Nimby's hand moves toward the fruit. The halfling looks insulted as he places a wooden horse on the table, the carved figurine a little rough around the edges. The half-elf picks up the horse, examining the intricate detail of the saddle and wind-blown mane. The small statue is amazing, considering it took the carpentry teacher only a few minutes to create.

"The only way to learn about people is to ask questions. You have good reflexes for a newcomer, so you'll be put in the advanced combat classes," Nimby claims, his eyes falling to Luke's weapons. His brown eyes shimmer at the sight of the polished gems in the hilts. "Those are expensive looking weapons and we don't usually see sabers around this place. Duggan sticks to forging common guard weapons and none of them are as flashy as your weapons. Oh, I like the matching stiletto in your right boot. I prefer knives to swords, but that's because of my size. Did you win them or steal them? Are you any good with them?"

Luke rubs his eyes, taking his time in answering the halfling. "They were a coming of age present. Honestly, I don't use the stiletto very often. It's more of an emergency weapon than a main weapon because my instincts work off the sabers. I've been trained in swordsmanship since I was a kid and I know I'm good, but I'm not arrogant. At least, I don't think I am."

"No shame in having some pride. We're all talented and Selenia is the master at fitting the right person with the right job. Take me for example. My skills are in the area of carpentry, but I was also a very good structural designer in my hometown. Selenia acknowledges these other talents, which is why she has me help in maintaining the academy buildings. So, which dormitory are you in and what kind of schedule did Kevin give you? If you got him on a bad day and made it worse then you better hope you get expelled in a few days because the schedule won't be pretty."

A large man takes a seat across from Luke as the last of the students get their breakfast and find open seats. The newcomer greedily eyes the roasted chicken and stewed potatoes on his plate. He stands out from most of the other students due to a green armband and his military haircut. A tattoo of an Elven face with a star background is on the back of his left hand and one of a fearsome Sword Dragon covers his entire right forearm. Scanning the room, Luke notices two men and a woman who share his new companion's haircut. They have armbands as well, but each one is a different color, signifying their dormitory.

"Give the kid some space, Nimby. Try to give him until tomorrow before you chew his ears off," the large man teases, ripping meat off the chicken. He piles the meat on a thick slice of bread while swallowing potatoes whole. "My name is Thomas Strogan, the sergeant instructor of Elfstar. Kevin took me aside and told me that you're one of mine, but you don't look like much from where I stand. You better be able to carry your own weight around here, Luke. Elfstar has a long-standing reputation for housing the best swordsmen in the academy. Selenia herself admires our blade skills, so you better not mess up. We'll give you some leeway for the first week because everyone gets in trouble at the start."

"Trust me, sir. I can do whatever you want me to do," Luke assures Thomas, leaning back in his chair and gesturing toward his sabers. "I don't carry these around for cleaning my teeth. I've already been trained as a forest tracker."

"You're a forest tracker, huh? I had a few dealings with your kind before I settled here. You guys are some dangerous folk," the sergeant instructor says with a wicked smirk. He takes a large bite from his open-faced sandwich and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Forest trackers aren't much in close quarter combat though. You're practically useless when you can't leap around like a monkey. I met one forest tracker in Gaia and we had some . . . words in a tavern. He was nothing close to a challenge once I stopped him from getting to his weapons and kept him cornered."

The half-elf chuckles as he takes another bite of his apple. "Must have been a false tracker. A lot of people train as a forest tracker for a few weeks to get a feel for two-weapon fighting. Then they leave overnight, so they aren't real forest trackers. I can take you on indoors without my weapons and give you a real fight. Now, I have a very important question for you, Mr. Strogan." Luke pauses to lean forward conspiratorially, his face shifting from deadly serious to a friendly smirk. "Where did you get that roasted chicken? Betty told me that everyone was served the same thing."

Before Thomas can answer, everyone goes silent and all eyes shift to the food line. Calmly making her way across the room is a middle-aged half-elf with a pink brushcut and lavender eyes. The stone-faced woman moves on legs of highly defined muscle, her footsteps barely audible. She sits at the table far in the back, where a single chair is positioned to let her see everything in the room. Luke hears students whispering the name Selenia Hamilton, their voices full of awe and respect.

"Impressive," Luke admits as the woman sits down. "Does the sudden silence happen every morning?"

Everyone returns to their conversations, but they are quieter and very few students dare to swear. Selenia's eyes glide over the room, the headmistress calmly eating a large pear and the yellow mush. Her cold stare rests on Luke and she spends some extra time examining him, which makes him uncomfortable. Those few seconds feel like minutes to the forest tracker, who tries to avoid making direct eye contact.

"She is amazing for someone smaller than five foot five," Thomas whispers with pride. "Bet you didn't realize how short she would be. Selenia has a massive presence, so her appearance throws people off. Still, she can back up her reputation. I was fortunate to see her fight in an exhibition match against a knight of Serab. She beat him into the ground using a wooden longsword while he was still wearing his platemail. Selenia is more dangerous than any demon from the Chaos Void."

"I wouldn't say that, Thomas," Nimby interrupts, talking with a mouth full of grapes. "She's great at combat and strategy, but demons are something else entirely. Although, I have heard a rumor that she defeated a Sword Dragon single-handedly, but I think that's a rumor. If she were so powerful then she would still be going on adventures."

"Why be an adventurer when training warriors brings in better money?" Thomas argues as if the halfling has said the most foolish statement in history. "She has the reputation, which is all you need in this world. I always say that a lifetime of adventuring only gets you scars, enemies, and nightmares."

Nimby sticks his tongue out at the sergeant instructor, switching his attention to a fresh block of wood. Thomas considers continuing the argument, but he notices his food is getting cold. Hating cold food, he finishes his open-face sandwich in three gulping bites. Luke slowly eats the rest of his meal as he takes a peek at Selenia, who is talking with one of the other sergeant instructors. Even though she is talking, he still feels like he is being watched by the headmistress.

"I agree there is no guaranteed money or retirement in being an adventurer," Luke absent-mindedly says, eating his last mouthful of mush. "Yet, there is something to be said for people who sacrifice a safe and stable life to help others. I personally think money isn't everything, sir, but that is a wanderer's way of thinking. If you want to make money then you should become a merchant or a soldier. Besides, an adventurer carrying a fortune on his back would snap their spine, so it's for the best that the lifestyle doesn't bring in a lot of wealth."

Thomas lets out a bellowing laugh, causing everyone to look in his direction. He reaches over to give the half-elf a friendly punch on the shoulder, the hit knocking the half-elf and his chair away from the table. To his surprise, Luke effortlessly balances the chair on one leg then tips it back to the table.

"You're a strange kid, fresh meat," the sergeant instructor declares, hunting his pockets for a toothpick. "Our goals seem to be different, but I like what I've seen and heard so far. You have guts and you say what's on your mind. It's refreshing to hear honesty like that."

"Thank you. What are your goals?"

"I plan on joining the staff as a full-time teacher," Thomas answers, pausing to take a long drink of water. "I come from a poor farming village that put the money together for me to come here. I owe it to them to gain a position where I can send money back. I guess that means I will be a hero in some way. Well, I need to get everything ready for my quarterstaff class. Remember that you start the morning run and all of your classes tomorrow, Luke. We're in the dormitory with the green flag and the only free bunk is next to the door, so you will have to deal with a draft. There's an extra blanket kept in the wardrobe."

He wipes his greasy hands on a cloth hanging from his waist and reaches over to shake Luke's shoulder. With a devilish smile, he loudly announces, "Good luck . . . Callindor."

The mention of the famous surname causes a surge of hushed conversations and a sea of stares that make the forest tracker very uncomfortable. Luke puts the whispering and his own worried thoughts out of his mind by focusing on his class schedule. Only monster lore poses a problem since he has a habit of falling asleep on the floor during lectures. He is sure he already knows the information from his grandfather's lessons, but recalling facts in a classroom has never come naturally to him. Memories of stuttering and freezing in front of his schoolteachers makes him shudder at having to repeat the embarrassment.

Luke snaps back to reality when he notices everyone has stopped whispering, but they are still looking in his direction. He peers out the corner of his eye to see a red-faced Selenia glaring at him, her hands gripping the edge of her table. Panic runs through his heart while he struggles to figure out what he did to get in trouble already. A few beads of sweat form on his brow and they trickle down nose when he hears Nimby start talking.

"This is a really nice stiletto," the halfling announces, waving the naked weapon around. "I haven't seen craftsmanship like this in a long time."

"Put that down! I'm going to get in trouble!" the young warrior yells, slapping the weapon out of the halfling's hand.

Shifting in his chair, Luke moves his leg enough for the stiletto to land in its sheath while Selenia storms towards the table. She stops at the table, slamming her hands down with enough force to lift the far end of the table into the air. The forest tracker stares back, the young warrior having no idea of how to get out of trouble. The only plan in his mind is to put up a brave front and wait for an opening to blame Nimby. He does not like the idea of getting the curious halfling in trouble, but he has an important job to do in this academy. Getting expelled on the first day would be an embarrassing setback.

Selenia's voice is dripping with barely controlled rage, more than he would have expected from the headmistress. "You're new here, little boy, so I'll let you get away with your transgression. You probably weren't told my rules in regards to carrying real weapons. First, you should not be armed while at my school unless I give you permission. Even so, unsheathing a weapon for no reason will result in expulsion from my academy after I kick your teeth in. As for you, Nimby, I'm very disappointed and I expect you to be in my office after your morning classes. I'm giving you detention duty tonight and a pay deduction for the next week. I trust this will not happen again. Now, do you two idiots understand what I'm saying or do you need a translator?"

"We understand. Thank you for the warning," Luke replies. He watches as the headmistress turns on her heel and leaves the cafeteria, the door slamming behind her.

After several minutes of silence, Nimby builds up the courage to whisper, "She's always like that, but it's best to watch your step for a week. Anyway, I have to help Kevin update the student files and put in orders for woodshop supplies. We can get together later if you want an exciting tour of the academy. We've already gotten in trouble together, so we're good friends now. That's the halfling way. Or is it my family motto? I always get those two mixed up. Let's meet by the fountain after dinner. Good luck on your first day."

The halfling jumps onto the table and slips out the nearest window, leaving his new friend to clean up his dishes. As the forest tracker walks by, the half-elven priest stops writing in his notebook and gives a stone-faced nod to him. Luke waves back as he hands the empty plates to Betty, the elderly woman smiling cheerfully and handing him an apple. He leaves the humid building, taking a deep breath of fresh air while a cool breeze whips around him.

He already misses the forest and being surrounded by the smells of nature. As much as he enjoys human interactions, Luke hates dealing with people who battle for superiority in conversations. He also cannot shake the feeling that the academy is going to be a lot like his hometown. A shudder runs up his spine, at the memories of never having a moment's peace and everyone having lofty expectations of him. Luke breaks from the upsetting thoughts and jogs across the courtyard, his eyes searching for a building with a green flag.

"It can't be all bad, Luke," he says to himself. "I already made a friend. Nimby may be blunt and a source of trouble, but I like him. He doesn't fit in with the seriousness of this place, which is practically suffocating. To be fair, I've only been here a few hours, so it could be a lot more fun than I expect. Right, Stile . . ."

The half-elf remembers that the noble shepherd is no longer by his side. He pushes away the sudden melancholy before it can take hold, making a mental note to bring his friend a snack or two from Betty's kitchen.

"Put your weapons away, Callindor!" shouts Selenia, startling Luke who has no idea where she is.

"Yes, ma'am!" he blindly yells back, sprinting to the Elfstar dormitory.

The building is made out of thick logs with patches of hardened tree sap between them to retain heat. The inside is an open room with nothing to separate each student's personal space. Every area has a matching set of oaken furniture, including a cot and a lockable wardrobe. At the back of the building is a plain door with the picture of a water droplet etched and painted on it. With no one to disturb him, Luke carefully arranges his gear in the wardrobe. A clean academy uniform is hanging on the inside of each door, so he lays one of them on his bed. The colors are royal blue and yellow with a line of white down each arm. A folded piece of paper falls out of the shirt pocket and he catches it, unfolding it to see his class schedule. The only open slots are two hours of daily recreational time, but he sees a note from Kevin about that changing before he can get used to it. The half-elf tucks the schedule under his pillow and locks his gear in the wardrobe, slipping the key into his back pocket. With a sputtering groan, he lies down and thinks about his overall situation for the first time since meeting the messenger.

"I know that messenger told me to keep my mission a secret, but a lowly student can only do so much without raising a few questions. I'm sure you'll understand, Zaria. Nimby has access to the files I need and he's friendly, so I can bring him if he proves to be loyal. I need to make sure he won't reveal my secret to Selenia too. If he does work out then maybe he knows other people around here who can help. There has to be some people willing to work behind Selenia's back. Though, I might be looking for trouble because it sounds like fools would mess with that woman."

From the open windows he can hear the distant sound of wooden weapons clashing and instructors bellowing at students.

"Luke, you are in way over your head," he mutters under his breath. His eyes fall on the door in the back of the dorm. "At least I can get a bath."
3

The small bathhouse behind the dormitory contains two in-ground basins with white towels hung along the walls. Luke walks over to one of the basins, thrilled that it is already filled with steaming water. The bath is warm and smells like pure river water with a subtle hint of cinnamon. He tests the temperature with his hand, noticing that the water magically churns and bubbles as soon as he takes his hand out. The air becomes thick with steam until a low whirl starts from overhead. Luke peers at the ceiling to see a square hole with three whirling, metal blades inside. For a few seconds, he is mesmerized by the odd contraption as it pulls the steam out of the bathhouse.

Cursing under his breath, the forest tracker heads for the door to get his supplies, stopping when he notices the bathhouse is fully stocked. Several compartments between the basins hold bottles of shampoo and several bars of soap. The shampoo resembles yellow-tinted water and the soap feels like rough tree bark, identical to the cheap kinds that he has been using during his months on the road. Still, he is happy to have a warm bath that does not include fish bumping his legs or the occasional river nymph spying on him. It takes a few minutes of temperature testing before the half-elf chooses which basin is the warmest, a moan escaping his lips once he slips into the water.

Luke is falling asleep when he hears someone violently kick the door open. Fearing an attack, he gets as much of his body under the water as he can, leaving only the top of his head sticking out. He presses against the door side of the basin, using the wide rim as cover. It crosses his mind that he is naked and unarmed, so he grips the shampoo bottle like a club.

"Damn archery teacher," the young woman mutters, stripping off her sweaty clothes. She lazily drops them on the floor as she makes her way to the empty basin. "It isn't my fault the flimsy things break every time I try for a distance shot. Now Selenia is going to be mad at me for walking out on a class and damaging more equipment. I don't know why I came to this damn academy in the first place. I could have gotten the same type of training in the military."

"Excuse me! Isn't this the boy's bathhouse?" Luke asks once she stops complaining.

The student whirls around, scowling at the tuft of blonde hair that is visible over the rim of the other basin. She finishes shedding her clothes, but uses them to keep her body covered. She blows at her ebony bangs that are stuck to her brow, the irritating tresses increasing her frustration.

"All bathhouses are communal and coed, halfer," she says, stepping into the other basin. She dunks her head underwater for a few seconds, gasping for air when she resurfaces. "Selenia believes this trains a person's self-control and builds their resistance to seduction. Personally, I think she's too cheap to build more bathhouses. Now, I'm taking a bath whether you like it or not. Behave yourself and they won't have to scrub your blood off the floor. By the way, my name is Kellia."

"Halfer? You lick your food bowl with that mouth?"

"Screw you, pointy ears," Kellia angrily snaps, massaging the shampoo into her hair. The sound of cracking joints fills the air as she rolls her shoulders. "Your kind is composed entirely of half-breeds who are neither human nor Elven. That makes you half-and-half. Are all half-elves this defensive about their lineage or are you a special case? I know Selenia has no problem with the term. In fact, she laughs when she hears it."

The young woman grabs a fresh bar of soap out of the nearest floor compartment, cringing at the touch of its rough surface. A few patches of dirt force her to rub until the area is red and raw. She hears Luke cautiously moving in his basin, his eyes peeking over the rim. She stops her bathing and growls at him, forcing him to turn away.

"You know, let's forget it ever happened. My name is Luke."

Kellia's scrubbing stops and is replaced by the gentle sound of swishing water. The half-elf ignores the temptation to see what she is doing, enjoying his own bath. Rapid wet slaps on the floor between the basins make him think his accidental companion is leaning over the edge of her basin, the water dripping off her hair and face. Taking a deep breath, he refuses to look at her and risk getting in trouble.

"So, you're Luke Callindor," she says before ducking underwater and resurfacing with an ecstatic gasp. "I expected you to be a snobby bastard like most of the newcomers this semester. Kevin's line about taking only the best is a total lie. Most of the students here are battle-hungry street kids who managed to earn enough pity from rich folk to be sent here. Unlike you, all of them are smart enough to avoid getting into trouble with Selenia. You'll never make it through the advanced classes without thinking before you act."

"I didn't have time to drop my gear off before breakfast," he says as he tries to plot a route of escape. Nothing comes to mind since he would never make it by the young woman without being seen. "Besides, I would like to remind you that Nimby drew the stiletto. I shouldn't have to defend my intelligence to you anyway."

Kellia laughs, but it is hard to tell if it is one of amusement or disdain. "You're an idiot."

"I bet I'm a lot smarter than a girl who is trying to show her chest off and has no idea what she's doing in her archery class," the half-elf declares, his voice adopting a condescending tone. A voice in his head screams for Luke to be quiet, but his ego and pride drown it out with their indignity. "Everyone knows that only composite bows are made for strength and I'm willing to bet the instructor is having you use Elven shortbows. Those break if you pull too hard, so for distance you have to compensate for the low power by arcing the arrow. To be fair, that trick is part of Elven techniques, so you wouldn't know anything about it until you get it into the advanced class."

Her face turning red, Kellia hurls the bar of soap at the top of his head. Luke has already ducked under the water, so he watches the projectile sail over his basin. He starts to resurface when a strong hand shoves him back under. Out of desperation, he claws at her hand and wrist, but his fingernails are too short to break her skin.

"I was not showing my breasts off," she angrily snarls, keeping the half-elf underwater with an iron grip. "Also, I am in the advanced archery class and we use composite bows. I'm stronger than you give me credit for. You are such an arrogant, chauvinistic pervert, Luke Callindor. I hope I get a chance to pummel you this semester."

She grunts as Luke violently struggles, his thrashing sending water everywhere. Kellia eases her grip, giving the young man a chance to grab her arm with both hands. He slides to the bottom of the basin, using his momentum to flip her into the water. She lands with a splash and the half-elf scrambles to the side, taking deep breaths as he slumps over the rim. Kellia slowly rises out of the water looking furious, but her mouth twists into a smile.

"I guess you'll be going further in this academy than I thought," she says, reaching toward a mark on Luke's chest that resembles crossed swords. "What's that on the left side of your chest?"

He catches her hand and tries to back away from her, but the side of the basin stops him from escaping. "It's a birthmark. All Callindors have one over their heart. Uh, you're invading my personal space. Is this too close for comfort thing a new trend? You're the second person to get touchy feely with me in the last day. Can you please get back in your basin, Kellia?"

He feels her hand graze his leg, causing him to flip out of the water. She still has a hold of his wrist and yanks him back, the half-elf landing on his hip. A surprisingly strong fist hit his stomach, nearly making him throw up. He collapses to his knees in the basin, grabbing the slick rim to avoid falling underwater. The next thing he feels is Kellia plant a gentle kiss on his cheek as she climbs out of the bath.

"You're an idiot, halfer. We both know the rule that sex between students is not allowed. Breaking that rule can result in expulsion and I don't feel like getting kicked out." Kellia pauses and grins down at the gasping half-elf. "I really hope we're in a combat class together because I want to see how tough you really are. Though, I think you'll find there is a long line of people hoping to test themselves against you."

She dries off with one of the coarse towels as Luke catches his breath and clambers out of the water. Grabbing his own towel, he pats himself dry and pulls his pants on, his eyes cautiously watching Kellia gather her clothes. He walks over to where her shirt is lying, the young woman ready to punch him when he grabs the piece of clothing. The shirt dangling from Luke's hand, she moves to take it back, but he swiftly yanks it out of her grasp. She is a few inches taller than the half-elf, so he has to jump closer to the door to get out of her reach.

"The way this shirt smells, I think it needs some air," the forest tracker says. He balls up the sweaty shirt and tosses it out the door, watching it land within view of the nearby quarterstaff class. Kellia throws on her pants and wraps a towel around her chest, spitting at Luke as she sprints out the door. He closes the door as several students whistle and shout at her.

"I'll beat you into dust for this, halfer!"

Luke is still laughing when a strong fist pounds on the bathhouse door. He cracks the door open and steps back, allowing Thomas to burst in with an angry scowl on his face. The veins on the sergeant instructor's neck are pulsing to the point where the half-elf worries they are going to explode. Even scarier than the bloated veins are the wooden practice weapons he is carrying. Thomas has a very large practice mace strapped to his side and a heavily dented quarterstaff in his hand.

"What the hell are you doing?" the man roars, towering above the smaller warrior. "I should take you into the courtyard right now and teach you a lesson. Now tell me exactly what you two were up to in here, fresh meat!"

Luke stands his ground as he calmly explains, "I was taking a bath, minding my own business, when Kellia came in. We argued for a while and then she punched me. I wasn't going to let her hit me without getting back at her. I figured embarrassing her would be kinder than punching her back since, freakish strength aside, she is a woman and I have some level of chivalry."

"Don't worry. I'm messing with you," Thomas cheerfully admits, slapping the half-elf on the back with enough force to knock him into the basin. "Many of the girls like to tease the fresh meat to get them in trouble with Selenia. The girl who causes a target to earn the most detention days wins. They'll stop in a few days, but be careful with Kellia. As you saw, she has the strength to back up a punch. She's not bad to look at either, especially those blue eyes and her other . . . parts. Among the tall-sized students, she's one of the highly desired girls in the academy. Dwarves consider her too masculine and all the halflings are terrified of her. I think you're the only guy to see her naked and walk away without a broken bone. That's a nasty bruise on your stomach, but nothing seems to be broken."

Luke groans as he drags himself out of the basin. "I'm not sure if this bruise is from Duggan or Kellia."

"So, exactly how does she look? Does she have any interesting birthmarks or something unsightly like a scar or a second bellybutton? With her strength, she can't be a pure-blood human. I'm betting she's got giant blood in her, which would explain her strength and endurance. She'd make a good wife and partner for an adventurer considering her natural talents."

"Please stop," Luke requests, finally turning to the sergeant instructor. "I have no interest in a violent, arrogant girl no matter how sexy she is or whatever her natural talents are. I came here to train and I will not get expelled because of a naked girl with the personality of a rampaging dread boar. This conversation is over and I would love to never have another one like it. What is her problem anyway?"

"Nobody really knows," Thomas answers, frowning as Luke gestures for him to keep talking. "She has a chip on her shoulder and is always trying to prove how tough she is, which is why she doesn't have any friends. There are some people who would love to get her kicked out because she challenges people between classes. During these fights, she uses enough force to send her opponents to the infirmary. She has no respect for the lower staff members like me and has even mouthed off to the veteran teachers a few times."

"Why does Selenia keep her in the academy?"

The sergeant instructor lazily spins his quarterstaff as he considers the question. "Because the girl has a lot of potential. We don't want to find out what would happen if Kellia is turned away from the only place she wants to be. She could go down a dark path if left to her own devices. So, it's best to stay away from her so she won't crush you on her path to the top of the graduation class."

"Thanks," the half-elf says as he finishes getting dressed. "Are you really interested in her? I thought someone like you would have better taste than that."

Thomas bellows in laughter and wraps a meaty arm around the half-elf's shoulders. He practically drags the younger warrior out the door, leading the nervous forest tracker to the quarterstaff class. The students stop practicing guard positions to watch their teacher hand two short practice staves to Luke.

"This is a forest tracker," Thomas announces in a serious and stern voice. "Contrary to popular belief, they are not restricted to the woodland regions. They get their name because they originated as a forest-focused stealth force used by armies to set traps, scout, and spy on enemy camps. They have since evolved tactics for all terrains, transforming into solitary wanderers. Forest trackers are proficient in twin weapons and they are some of the fastest warriors you will ever meet. The reason for putting speed over strength is that they need to cause damage at a quicker rate than a group power warriors. Off-hand weapons can be used for offense and defense, but experienced trackers have adapted defensive maneuvers that turn into attacks. So, if you ever antagonize one of these warriors then you might find yourself on the wrong side of a severe beating. Forest trackers have a pledge to not take a life without just cause, but that can be a broad definition."

Thomas turns to Luke before continuing, "I feel you should be prepared for anything. So, this young man has volunteered to help you learn how to fight one of his kind. We will begin with one-on-one matches before moving into group tactics. I will start this exercise to point out the flaws in the two-weapon style that a staff fighter can capitalize on. I recommend everyone pay close attention, but I will repeat my demonstration if necessary. Again, thank you for volunteering, Luke."

"This is not my day," Luke mutters as the large man comes at him.

*****

"Your arms are so black and blue they make me hurt," Nimby says as Luke slumps against the academy wall and slides to the ground. "Guess this explains why you weren't at lunch or dinner."

There are bruises all over the half-elf's arms and his chest aches thanks to the quarterstaff class's obsession with hitting him in the ribs. It has only been within the hour that he can breathe without feeling a dull pain along his sides. He is thankful nothing is broken, but he has a feeling such an injury would not get him out of his first day of classes. Nimby hands Luke an apple, which the warrior happily takes and devours with large, drooling bites. The halfling quietly sits on the grass, entertaining himself by tossing pebbles at the leaves of a nearby blackberry bush.

"I can't believe how many times those kids hit me in the ribs," Luke complains, examining the apple core for remaining bites. "If I had wooden swords and wasn't holding back, I could have beaten all of them. Though, Thomas would have posed a problem."

"Thomas was telling everyone at lunch how his class took the new kid to task," Nimby mentions with a friendly smile. He chuckles at the memory of the sergeant instructor gloating in front of the entire school. "Funniest part is he said this while sporting a black eye, a limp, and a massive goose egg in the center of his forehead. If that was you holding back, you must be better than good. So, what caused him to fight you anyway? Don't tell me you broke another rule and Thomas caught you."

"I thought you had detention duty."

"I made a deal to help Kevin with his filing for the week instead. I get more sleep and he has a stash of candy hidden in his desk that I sneak pieces from," the halfling explains with a lick of his lips. "So, what rule did you break this time?"

Luke gets to his feet and winces in pain as he stretches. "First of all, you got me in trouble this morning. Selenia was angry with both of us for that one. As for Thomas, he overreacted because I embarrassed another student. She deserved it though after hitting me and harassing me in the bathhouse. That girl is an arrogant brat and I simply brought her down a few notches."

The halfling eyes the half-elf suspiciously until the young warrior admits, "Okay . . . I tried to bring her down a few notches. Still, what I did was no reason for an entire class to attack me. I couldn't fight back or I might have injured them."

"I can tell you're good, but you can't be that good. You're only a student," Nimby states, getting more and more excited as he talks. He pulls out another apple and tosses it to Luke, who catches it without looking. "Even if you won a tournament, only a seasoned warrior would have the experience and skill to defeat a group without real weapons. I mean, being a Callindor doesn't make you invincible."

Luke eats the apple while watching Nimby continue throwing pebbles at leaves. It takes some time for him to realize the halfling is more skilled than he lets on. The halfling has yet to miss a leaf even when he switches from throwing to flicking the pebbles off his palm. His subtle aim and precision is on par with what Luke would expect from a skilled archer or a thief. Thinking about his breakfast encounter with Nimby, he is sure only a trained thief could steal his stiletto without him noticing. The young warrior grins at the realization that he is not the only one at the academy who is undercover and hiding his real skills. With a final bite, he finishes the apple and throws the core over the wall for wild animals to find.

"You sound like you've traveled a bit, Nimby," Luke casually says, hoping to trick the friendly halfling. "Have you ever been to Rodillen? I hear it's very peaceful with excellent stores and restaurants. I hope to go there some day and see how amazing it is. Some people I've met claim it's more beautiful than Gaia and Freedom."

The halfling looks up at Luke, a mixture of shock and disgust on his face. He beckons for the half-elf to lean down so he can whisper, "That place is a putrid demon hole. There is too much political corruption and the thieves' guild runs everything, except a single inn. Those jerks never share the wealth and let people live with just enough to make Rodillen resemble a thriving town. There are so many guild thieves in Rodillen that an independent thief can't find decent marks without incurring a guild fine. I'd like to know who told you that junk, so I can educate them."

"Nobody told me. I wanted to see your reaction," the young warrior admits while stretching his aching arms. "Only a highly skilled thief would have the guts to go non-guild in Rodillen and speak so honestly about them. Of course, only an excited halfling would rant without thinking of the consequences. No offense. Does Selenia know about your realm of expertise?"

Nimby flashes a grin that is wider than the one fading from Luke's face. "Once you mentioned Rodillen, I knew you had me. I figured it was best to give you what you wanted before you tried other ways of revealing me. Selenia believes I'm the black sheep in a family of thieves, which allows me to get away with a few old habits. She would be very angry if she found out I was the best thief in my family. I helped her improve the academy defenses two years ago and she would know a thief like me would add some secrets for myself. Maybe I can share some of the secret doors with you if you prove that you can be trusted."

The halfling stares at the warrior with a quivering lower lip and tears forming in his brown eyes. Luke tries to look away from the pitiful sight, but the manipulative thief whimpers. He is able to ignore the display until Nimby opens his mouth to shout. The forest tracker quickly covers the thief's mouth, feeling a rush of hot air and spittle.

"If I'm going to talk with you then I can't have an audience," Luke whispers, gently removing his hand and wiping it on his shirt. "I won't tell anybody you're a highly skilled thief, but you already knew that or you wouldn't have told me. In return, I need you to keep a secret of mine. This is much bigger than the one I'm keeping for you. Do you understand?"

"I knew there was something strange about a Callindor coming here. There's a fun story brewing this semester and I plan on being a part of it."

"You have no idea. I received a mission from Duke Solomon to protect his heir. As you can guess, this person is a very big temptation to any of his majesty's enemies," Luke carefully explains, his hand ready to cover Nimby's mouth if need be. "Well, this person is a first year student and there are some dangerous creatures out to kill him . . . or her." He pauses to lean in closer to the halfling's ear. "A Lich is involved, but monsters like that usually send others to do their dirty work. Anyway, the messenger I rescued from zombies had lost all of the mission information and I don't know anything about the heir. I know some things about Duke Solomon, but nothing about his immediate family, so I need help. If I screw up then I'll be in a lot more trouble than if I broke a few academy rules. Although, I'm not sure if it would be less painful to cross Selenia or fail Duke Solomon. Can you help me?"

"Why didn't you tell me about this in the first place?" Nimby asks, dodging Luke's attempt to cover his mouth. "I always wanted to have an adventure like this. The danger and excitement will make a fantastic story to tell other halflings. I could become a great storyteller among my people if this is as big an adventure as it sounds. There has to be some kind of reward too. I'm glad I traded secrets with you. What do you need me to do, Luke?"

"You believe me like that? No doubt or question of this being true? That . . . that doesn't seem right."

"Why shouldn't I trust you? You're a Callindor after all," Nimby asks, noticing his new friend cringe and scowl. "You being here makes a lot more sense now. Besides, I told you my secret and you believed me right away."

"Callindors are apparently incapable of lying and always have a grand adventure in front of them," Luke sarcastically claims. Shaking his head, he pushes the frustration and bitterness from his mind. "Look, Nimby, all I need is help finding the heir. If you can get me a list of all the first year students, I can narrow it down to a handful of people. Also, if you know anyone else who can be trusted then please bring me to meet with them. Don't recruit anybody without telling me about them first. I doubt I have a lot of time to find the heir, so I can't waste time handling leaks of information. I can only use trustworthy allies."

Nimby pulls another apple out of one of his hidden pockets, thinking carefully as he crunches into the fruit. "I may know some people, but they are pretty busy around this time of the semester. I can ask Selenia or Kevin if they can help. After all, they have experience in stuff like this."

"No! If they found out, they would take over and I would be left in the dust. This is my mission and I know what I'm doing. Alerting Selenia and Kevin may cause them to act in a way that would tell the Lich's agents that they are aware of the plot. That could change everything and get people killed. The Lich and his agents don't know I'm here to stop them. This element of surprise is all I have going for me."

"Why would they steal your mission if it was given to you? Aren't you a seasoned warrior like them? Of course . . ." starts Nimby, who pauses to pick his next words carefully. "You are a lot younger than Selenia and Kevin. From the looks of you, the sergeant instructors are older too. Come to think of it, you don't look old enough to have that much experience in anything outside of training. Possibly a goblin hunt or two, but I wouldn't think you've done anything more than that. How did you get this mission anyway?"

Luke blushes, his lip twitching as he paces from the wall to a nearby birch tree. Nimby watches him and pulls out a wooden dagger that he mindlessly twirls in his hand. The young warrior tries to speak a few times, but holds his tongue and goes back to pacing. After several minutes, Nimby settles against the wall, switching his dagger for a metal and leather slingshot. Using pebbles, he knocks blackberries out of the bush he has been victimizing and patiently waits for Luke to sit down. When he does, the half-elf avoids eye contact, his brow deeply furrowed as if he is making the biggest decision of his life.

"I've told you so much, so I guess more won't hurt," the half-elf claims with a tired glance at the pink and purple sky. "Another warrior was supposed to be sent here, but he was killed by the zombies before I arrived to rescue the messenger. Their meeting was long enough for the original bodyguard to receive the information, so those scrolls were gone and the messenger was panicked. He was thankful and thought I was an established warrior. I was going to tell him I was only a young forest tracker who recently left home, but then he mentioned this mission. I realized this was my chance to prove I have what it takes to become a real hero."

"Why is it so important for you to prove that you're a hero?"

"Most of my ancestors became legends, so I have a prestigious name to live up to. I don't want to be one of the few Callindors who fell into obscurity or is known as a failure," Luke explains, his voice becoming prouder with every word. "My grandfather is the best forest tracker today and I hear stories of his victories in every tavern I walk into. My father became such a revered blacksmith that even dwarves praise his work."

"I admit that I've heard of your father and grandfather."

"I need to gain the same amount of fame they have, if not more. So I made up some adventures to impress the messenger. I tried to make it believable, so I didn't go further than barely surviving a fight with an ogre," the forest tracker continues, repeatedly running a hand through his blonde hair. "Somewhere in my introduction letter the messenger further exaggerated my fake exploits. He said I participated in a Weapon Dragon hunt, which I managed to talk my way through when I arrived. So as far as Kevin and Selenia know, I've had several adventures and I'm here to improve on my previous training."

"So you're nothing more than a kid who wants to make a name for himself," the halfling states, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Well, this situation is a lot stickier than I thought. At least it will make a very good story. Everyone loves a tale about an underdog, especially if he wins and survives. Are you sure you can handle all of this?"

"I'll die trying," Luke replies, getting to his feet. He extends his hand for Nimby to shake, seeing the worried look on the halfling's face.

"I see. Well," Nimby starts, his voice fading into a long pause. Shifting from foot to foot, the brown-haired thief sighs and peers into Luke's green eyes. "We halflings need a good ten hours of sleep every day to stay cheerful and hopeful. This mission should be a lot of fun, Luke. Thanks for letting me help."

"I should be thanking you," Luke admits as his new friend shakes his hand. He lets out a long breath as they walk toward the two-story teacher's dormitory. "I'm going to do some thinking on the wall. When can you get me the list of first years?"

"I can get it to you right after breakfast."

"Without stealing the list and getting us into even more trouble."

"In that case, give me until after lunch," the halfling says, trying hard to think of a plan that does not involve thievery. "I took a peek at your schedule when I was between classes. You'll have some hard classes, like handicap fighting and blacksmithing, to concentrate on. Good luck getting through your first day, Luke. Some people don't make it to lunch without snapping and leaving a trail of tears through Visindor." He laughs at the young warrior's terrified expression. "I'm exaggerating. They're usually carted away because they're too broken to walk. Well, good luck."

"He's a loyal thief and a liar. This could be the start of a great partnership," Luke whispers, watching Nimby enter the dorm through a hidden side door.

*****

The defensive wall is cloaked in shadows, except for a single torch lighting up each of the corners. Every few seconds, the translucent shadow of an archer passes across the opening of each turret. They are mysterious figures that, according to the students, never leave their nightly posts. Luke spent an hour listening to a friendly student explain her theory that the archers were imprisoned spirits of the mercenaries who died under Selenia's command. As he stands above the locked front doors of the academy, he realizes the guards are some of the advanced archery students and the senior staff. It is easy to figure out since ghosts do not wave back or sneeze, so he assumes they are having fun letting the rumors spread. Luke turns his attention to the forest, noticing a few of the Elven students sneak across the open field to Visindor. He watches in envy as the last slender shadow vanishes into the tree line and Canst, the green moon, rises above the forest. A sliver of Tavon the blue moon can be seen over the southern horizon, giving that part of the sky a sapphire hue. The atmosphere is so serene that the bruised and exhausted half-elf falls asleep.

Luke dreams about flying, which he refuses to enjoy because he remembers what inevitably happens. As he soars over a gathering of lightning belching clouds, his journey stops and he drops like a stone. It is a terrifying plummet, but the ground is coming up faster and the wind is louder than when he normally has this nightmare. He looks around, seeing a towering wall of trees that are a few inches out of reach. Below him is a grove of hissing roses with their metallic thorns glinting in the sporadic lightning. He opens his mouth to yell when he hits the flowers with a brief, and oddly muffled, thud.

The irritating pain of falling into the bramble bush jolts the half-elf awake. He has no time to figure out how he fell, his attention stolen by a form leaping off the wall and landing behind him. As he escapes the bush and stands, Luke receives several kicks to his midsection, which is still slightly numb from the beatings he took throughout the day. A quick shake of his head gives him enough clarity to block a flurry of punches, but the mysterious attacker sticks to the shadows. Whoever it is slams a knee into the half-elf's gut, knocking the wind out of him. He curls up in a ball and gasps for air as his enemy steps into the emerald moonlight. Luke defiantly growls when Selenia hoists him to his feet by his nose.

"You're a very deep sleeper for a forest tracker, which might explain why you travel with the dog. He acts as a bodyguard while you sleep like a corpse. A smart move that shows you are aware of this problem . . . and it is a problem, boy," Selenia says, letting go of her student's nose and handing him a handkerchief. "Nobody will hire a warrior who sleeps through alarms. If you want, I can have Thomas work with you on this. Nothing fancy. Only a few surprises while you sleep as long as it isn't before anything that you need to be well-rested for. Of course you want me to have Thomas do this to you. Why else would you come to my academy unless you wanted me to mold you into a real warrior?"

Luke tries to answer, but Selenia's left hand shoots out to pinch his mouth closed. He struggles like a fish caught on a hook with the headmistress easily batting his hands away. He tries to kick her, but she swiftly blocks the strike with her leg and retaliates with an echoing smack upside his head.

She lets go when she sees determination and defiance appear in Luke's eyes. "That's the look I like to see in my students. Your performance tonight wasn't bad for an amateur who just woke up. This little test will allow me to allocate your open class slots to courses that you obviously need. You have good reflexes and instincts which, I am sure, are the tools that got you through a tournament of novices and thugs. Now, you're in my academy and you're an advanced student. That means my expectations for you will be greater than you realized. Specifically, I want more out of you than what I saw tonight, Luke."

"My previous training didn't include much in the way of hand-to-hand combat. I do better with swords," he claims, cautiously eyeing the headmistress. Selenia runs her hand through her dull pink brushcut, which makes Luke tense up.

"A true warrior must be skilled in more than one fighting method, including a hand-to-hand style. If you were to be disarmed, you would be worthless," she coldly lectures, holding the younger half-elf's attention with a piercing gaze. "You were given a free slot after breakfast to practice what you wish, but I'm bringing you into my martial arts class. Be aware that this is invitation only, so be honored and serious when attending. Kevin did not tell me who your original teacher was, but I know it was Talos Doubleblade of Haven, master of the Whirlwind of Uli style. I have met several of his former students in the past with a few coming here for extra training. You will find that Talos is much more lenient than I am. Most of his students dropped out by the end of their first month. If you're one of these people then I want you to leave right now and never look back."

Luke feigns boredom by scratching his head and yawning. He turns to walk away, but Selenia viciously spins him around and tries to backhand him across the face. This time the forest tracker ducks and delivers a solid punch to her stomach, causing her to grunt. She steps back and launches a straight kick at her student, but he jumps to the side, making a slashing chop with his left hand. Selenia catches him by the wrist and attempts a knee strike to his chin. He jerks his head out of the way, letting her strike hit his shoulder. A loud pop can be heard from his shoulder and Luke bites his lower lip to stop a bubbling scream.

"Dislocated shoulder. This injury happens very often around here. Children forget there are limits to their flexibility," Selenia says, gently letting go of his arm. "I recommend you go to the infirmary then head back to your dorm."

"It hurts a lot, but there's no reason to waste the healer's time."

Crossing her arms, Selenia watches as Luke carefully sets his shoulder and walks to the academy wall. He slams his shoulder against the solid wood causing another loud pop to break the silence. This time Luke falls to his knees groaning and slowly rotating his sore arm. He fails to hold back a few tears that well up in his eyes, so he tries to hide his face from the observant headmistress.

"I've been under the tutelage of my grandfather, Talos 'Doubleblade' Callindor, since I was five," he proudly declares through clenched teeth. He shakes the stars from his eyes, their appearance caused by fatigue and mild pain. "To him, I am his grandson and not a regular student, so he was very strict. I have been stabbed, slashed, burned, beaten, punched, kicked, and every other manner of abuse that comes with warrior training. I'm not some troll-brained punk with a set of sharpened blades and delusions of grandeur. I can back up every word out of my lips. I suggest you remember that and not group me in with those failures who probably left my grandfather before they did any real training."

"Very well, young Callindor. I will be watching to see if you live up to your name," Selenia warns him, poking a strong finger into his chest. She cracks her knuckles and leans against the wall, her body never appearing to fully relax. "I believe you have already been told the basic rules about fraternizing with female students and that there is no fighting outside of classes. Drinking is also prohibited upon penalty of several chores that will be decided upon by me. I'm not talking about simple tasks like dusting or cleaning dishes, but punishments that will make you beg for a day of running laps around this academy. As for your encounter with Kellia . . . I am not amused. She was wrong to start with you in the bathhouse and you were wrong to publicly embarrass her. Remember that there is always a chance you two will have to work together in this academy or after you return to the world outside these walls. I will not have any shameful incidents from my students, including some pride-filled child from a famous family. Do you understand me?"

"Can I get some sleep before I beat you in that race tomorrow?" Luke asks with a cocky smile. Selenia clenches her fist and leaps forward to throw a punch, which he catches with ease. They smirk at each other as the forest tracker cautiously backs toward the Elfstar dormitory. He gets a few steps, but stops when Selenia holds up her hand.

Her lavender eyes glimmer while she rolls her tongue inside of her mouth. "Kevin tells me I should be more supportive of my students instead of always yelling at them."

"It couldn't hurt to give us a little praise at times."

"You are one of the fastest learners I've ever had in this academy. I noticed you started using sword maneuvers with your arms to make up for your lack of martial arts training. Realize that adaptability will get you far in this academy and in the real world," Selenia awkwardly explains, struggling to compliment the young warrior. "As for your challenge, know that nobody has ever passed me during the morning run. Tomorrow morning will be another lesson. You have to learn not to challenge everyone under the four moons."

With a yawn, Luke waves to Selenia and slips into the dormitory. He changes into a pair of cotton pants from his footlocker and crawls into the stiff bed, falling asleep instantly. A young dwarf is woken up by Luke's restless slumber and gets ready to throw a pillow at the grumbling half-elf. He looks at the entrance in time to see a tall figure standing in the doorway. He cannot see any details in the shadow, except for a pair of eerie, crimson eyes. The form points a finger into the room, vanishing in a gust of purple mist that quietly closes the door. The unfortunate dwarf is left a shuddering, terrified mass on his bed.
4

The deadly Caster Swamp sits northeast of Selenia's academy, its black edge barely visible from the school's wall. Any travelers unfamiliar with the area will quickly find themselves lost among the bubbling bogs and patches of gnarled harpy birches. It is a ravenous terrain that devours the unprepared with tangle bogs and carving pits. As lethal as they are, these natural traps are the least of a traveler's worry. The Caster Swamp is home to hundreds of predatory species created by both forbidden magic and nature. Due to these unique creatures, the area is a favorite location for any hunters and bestiary chroniclers brave enough to challenge the swamp. It is because of these foolish adventurers and scholars that professional forest trackers have created a handful of safe zones scattered about the first four miles of the area. Those that go beyond the final safe zone rarely return with their bodies and minds intact, if they manage to return at all.

Hidden within the Caster Swamp are the remains of many black stone towers, the ruins consumed by crushing swamp vines or worn down to rubble by heavy rain. They are the remnants of a time when the region was ruled by the Necrocaster Council and treated as a kingdom instead of a dark wilderness. Many believe the unique monsters were born from the council's experiments, the surviving results having escaped into the swamp after their masters mysteriously disappeared overnight. To this day, nobody knows what happened to this faction that brought nightmares to the locals. They simply vanished and their empty lairs fell into history and ruin.

A solitary tower has survived, the eerie light of a lantern eternally burning from a wide window. The structure stands alone in a vast clearing, dotted with boulders that are smooth and oddly edged. These piles of rubble are the remains of a castle, the black stone tower having been the southwest corner of the defensive wall as evidenced by the jagged remains of the complex that hang off its sides. An ever-increasing number of giltris and orcs are busy rebuilding the fallen castle while their master watches from a high window. The Lich drums his skeletal fingers on the window ledge, several cauldrons bubbling and hissing behind him. Empty cages hang from the ceiling with pools of dried blood, feathers, and fur on their rusty bottoms. A small bonfire crackles and sparks in the middle of the room, framing the decaying figure as he moves to check his books and scrolls.

"That destructive wench thought that she could tear down my home and not suffer any consequences. Now she is retired and no longer at her peak," the Lich tenderly says to the solid walls. He gingerly strokes one of the stones, his hand coming away with a layer of soot. "I will get my revenge on her once I rebuild my forces. If only I could find better help than orcs and those reptilian miscreants. Giltris are so hard to control that they are more trouble than they are worth. Perhaps I could summon an army of demonic workers by sacrificing all of them."

He waves the idea away and takes a deep, cleansing breath. "I must not give in to my impatience. Such an act could bring too much attention to my activities. That nosy mercenary must be kept in the dark about my return or I will have to handle too many problems at once. Rushing in this endeavor will lead to failure . . . and severe punishment."

The Lich turns to the open doorway when he hears the sound of armored footsteps on the tower stairs. He pulls the Paladin's skull from his robes, magically floating it to a nearby table. The bone is black and several cracks have appeared around the empty eye sockets. It takes all of the Lich's restraint not to smash the object out of frustrating rage. Part of him is furious about killing the Paladin instead of using him to uncover the heir. It took the necrocaster days of scrying and hundreds of gold coins worth of components to divine his obstacles, every spell showing him the Paladin and nothing else. Now, he has a mysterious forest tracker and if there is one thing the Lich despises, it is having a mysterious enemy. He gulps down his rage as the footsteps stop outside the doorway.

"Enter and report your findings," the necrocaster demands as the Hellfire Elf ducks under the door frame.

The assassin stands at attention, waiting for the Lich to settle on a throne made of moldy bones. "I am prepared to infiltrate the enemy fortress in a form nobody would suspect. I will be able to move among our enemies without raising any suspicions. Even the great mercenary you have warned me about shall remain unaware of my presence. If you wish, I can eliminate her as soon as I have accomplished my primary mission. I will be able to make my move within three days once I gather all necessary information. This is barring any unseen incidents within the fortress, which may delay my actions. Be aware that even demons cannot predict every action that their targets will make, master."

"Very good," the Lich says with a fleshless grin. He claps his hands, causing a few of his fingers to crack. "Stay on your guard when around Selenia Hamilton and avoid conflict with her. That woman might uncover you from the slightest confrontation or if you avoid her altogether, so find a delicate balance of behavior when around her. Remember, Selenia is a dangerous warrior who has single-handedly destroyed demons much stronger than your breed. I do not wish to waste energy summoning another assassin because you found a challenge."

"I will do as you ask, master."

The Lich rises off the throne and slowly glides to the Paladin skull, picking it up and turning it in his hands. An intricate wave of his hand casts a spell, making the skull glow a dull yellow for a few seconds. The stench of burning bone emanates from the Lich's palm as he places the skull back on the table, his skeletal hand charred black from the holy item. The undead creature turns to his servant with eyes glowing dimmer than usual, a flicker of pain on his face.

"Do you see this?" the Lich inquires, pointing a half-decayed finger at the skull. "A Paladin has an aura of holy magic, which can be awakened by a divine ceremony. As you have witnessed, this aura causes pain to any unnatural creatures that come in contact with it. Once dead, the holy warrior's aura goes dormant. It can be stirred if one knows the specific spell, but it does not last long enough to be of any use."

With a look of boredom, the Hellfire Elf nods in agreement with its master. The Lich picks up the skull and smashes it against the table. Bone shards fly in every direction, a few landing in a simmering cauldron. The blood red liquid swirls and bubbles over onto the floor, hissing as it eats at the stone. A small uttering and some arcane gestures from the Lich evaporates the liquid, filling the room with a red, salty mist.

"I see that you do not fully understand," the necrocaster disappointingly says, sitting on his throne and growing in size. "I am particularly interested in these auras because they are the source of Windemere's magic. Every caster understands this, but only a handful delve into their true power. Most arcane masters remain in the tedious realm of manipulating their own aura to create spells. They refuse to tap into the wasted power of the masses, which can allow a caster to control life itself."

The Lich pauses in disgust, taking a few moments to recover his bitter-edged voice. "These innovators are called necrocasters, which is a name that foolishly focuses on our undead raising origins. We are so much more than corpse shepherds in this day and age. Necrocasters are the masters of arcane manipulation, which is why we are hated and feared by all who lack understanding and vision. We influence the aura of other beings, but too many brand our art as an invasion and violation of the soul."

"What is the point of this lecture, master?" growls the Hellfire Elf, punching a hole in the wall. "It is merely a tool for casters much like a sword is a tool for warriors. There is no reason for me to know the workings of auras to succeed in my mission."

"I will ignore your outburst and continue this lesson," its rotting master hisses while glaring at the snarling demon. "I will concede that I diverted from my initial point. Material objects and spells can be combined to create artifacts of power, which may be used by anyone. Most advanced casters of Windemere forge magical items, which has been a common practice for centuries. An example is Master Klaken and his damn durability enchantments, which are responsible for every household possessing a magical item. I was happy to learn he died in a nasty acid-storm accident. I wish I could have been there to spit on the melted puddle."

"Get to the point, master!"

A glimmer of magic appears between the Lich and his assassin, the shimmering motes growing brighter and blindingly erupting. Once the spots fade from the Hellfire Elf's eyes, it sees a translucent form standing before it. Shrinking back to his normal size, the Lich rises from the throne and wipes sparks from his robes. He passes through the illusion of Luke Callindor, turning in mid-stride to examine the image's face. Instead of a faint aura around the half-elf, there is an occasional bolt of crackling energy pulsing through his body.

"There are those born with unique auras, giving them the potential to become very powerful and dangerous," the Lich explains while examining the illusion. He catches one of the bolts of energy, which he flicks to the floor and watches bounce back to the image. "Their weakness is that until they come into their power, their auras are easy to manipulate and twist. This boy comes from a family of legends known for having unique auras. There is no telling what he will become if he reaches his full potential, but I am sure it would be a problem."

"You sound worried, master."

"I have come across many warriors like him. They were weak and posed only a brief challenge to my ancient magic," the necrocaster responds, grinning at the memories of his past victories. "This one seems to have already acquired enough skill to defend himself. I do not like him being here even if he is a simple whelp, so we must remove him before he becomes a serious problem. Duke Solomon's heir is the perfect body for me to use and . . ." He chokes down his anger before he can continue. "I will not be stopped by a young forest tracker who stumbled into my path. Have you learned anything about him?"

The Hellfire Elf steps toward the window, snorting in irritation and drawing its compound longbow. The demon nocks an arrow and fires at one of the distant orcs, licking its lips at the sound of the hideous death shriek. A few of the orcs move their fallen comrade, the arrow still embedded between his eyes. To the Hellfire Elf's dismay, none of the drone-like workers react with anger or sorrow.

"Like that worm, this boy is of no consequence," the assassin calmly says, slinging its longbow over his shoulder. "From his own lips, I learned he is here to protect the heir and he is aware of your existence. So far, this child has spent his time getting into trouble. He has only been there for a day and the mercenary woman has spoken with him twice. If the boy gets physically involved then I will dispose of him with ease. Slaying zombies is one thing, but defeating a Hellfire Elf is no simple task."

"Fool! Obviously that cherry-sized brain in your skull is not working!" the necrocaster shouts, his screechy voice filled with frustration. "This boy has power and he might be stronger than we realize. For all we know, he is playing the fool to trick us into revealing ourselves. Have you seen anything that could be of importance or are you so arrogant that you let him go unchecked?"

The Lich reaches behind his throne, pulling out a long box made of solid gold. There are several thick chains wrapped around the container, a central lock magically welded to the hinged lid. He runs his hand along the chains, quivering at the barely contained malevolence ebbing from the item inside.

"It would appear he has made friends with one of the instructors and entrusted this man with his secrets. A halfling who teaches the useless trade of building things out of wood," the Hellfire Elf reports, its eyes mesmerized by the mysterious chest. "During their exchange, I overheard the boy mention he is unaware of the heir's identity. He is not even aware of the gender of our target, but he is trying to find out. I believe he is quite cunning in this regards."

Slumping in his throne, the Lich lets his body relax to the point where his remaining flesh sags. "Good. Then, we have the advantage of knowledge."

"I will spend this evening searching for the best place to make my ambush. I must depart as the night creatures of Visindor have given me some problems. They are more perceptive than the forest dwellers of the day, so I am forced to work in smaller forms to avoid confrontations with these beasts. As per your instructions, I do not wish to alert the guardians of the forest to my existence."

"One moment."

Curious and cautious, the Hellfire Elf turns as the Lich casts a spell, dissolving the lock and chains around the golden box. Opening the box, the demon finds a serrated sword of black steel that thrums with raw power. Four bloodstones are embedded in the obsidian and pearl hilt, shaped to resemble a winged demon swallowing a gray moon. A pulse of magic runs up the assassin's arm as it takes weapon out of the box and the sword leaves a brief distortion path behind it with every swing.

"What is this?" the Hellfire Elf asks, a drop of drool falling from its chin to the stone floor. It can feel the sword's magic tug at its heart and sing to its primal bloodlust. If the demon was to describe the feeling, it would be like finding a long lost piece of its soul.

"It is a rare weapon known as a Chaoswind," the Lich explains, watching the demon get a feel for the blade's weight and balance. "All Chaoswind weapons have been infused with the power of a demon through the art of blood forging. That particular sword was forged in the fresh blood of an Eblem while she was in heat, making its magic incredibly potent even by Chaoswind standards. The weapon causes paralyzing pain and mental suffering to any good-natured creature that it cuts. The more good-natured and pure the creature, the greater the agony and the more suffering to enjoy. A Chaoswind will be what you need if that boy or Selenia become more trouble than you except."

"Can it kill demons?"

The Lich grins as he answers, "Demons, undead, and all those whose hearts are blackened are immune to that weapon. It will harmlessly pass through them."

The Hellfire Elf lets a toothy smile cross its face as it straps the sword to its back and lets its former blade crumble to dust. The demon shivers at the feel of the Chaoswind bonding with its aura. Once the sensation is over, it makes a low bow toward the Lich and dives out the window. The workers look to see the armored figure transform into a greenish-blue sparrow and fly toward Visindor Forest. The Lich laughs to himself, envisioning the heir of Duke Solomon in his grasp and the young Callindor writhing in pain at his feet.

*****

"Hey! Wake up," whispers a small voice. The words fall on deaf ears, so the shy halfling violently shakes Luke by the head, causing his eyes to flutter open. Ignoring the small face before him, the half-elf looks around and tries to remember where he is. His mind is slow and muddled until he hears Thomas yelling from the back of the dorm.

"I'm awake," the forest tracker mutters, batting the older student's hand away. "You can stop poking me."

Lazily rolling out of bed, Luke opens his wardrobe and lays out his academy uniform as Thomas walks toward him. He fails to hold back a wide yawn and rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes. Noticing his fully dressed classmates, he doubts he has the time for a revitalizing bath. A bowl of water near his bed is the closest thing Luke can find, so he dumps it over his head. Some of the other students laugh as he shakes the water off his hair like a dog.

"Ten minutes until the run," Thomas announces, looking directly at the half-elf. "I suggest you dry off and hurry to the front gate. The rest of us are heading there now. Well, all of us, except Wallen."

Luke glances at the young dwarf, who is shuddering in his bed. "What happened to him?"

"I hope you realize you'll have to clean up this puddle after breakfast, fresh meat," the sergeant instructor says as he turns to the terrified dwarf. "We don't know what happened. It looks like he had a nightmare and it shook him up pretty badly. Not everyone can handle the pressure we place on them and about half the students break down at some point. He should be back on his feet after a day of rest, so no need to worry. If he gets worse, Selenia and Kevin will take care him. Now, let's go to the front gate and show Selenia that Elfstars run like wolves!"

All of the students shout in agreement and they follow their sergeant instructor out the front door. Luke takes up the rear, struggling to finish getting dressed. He hops out the door, wrestling with his boots and cursing at himself for not drying off.

Students from the other dormitories swarm into the courtyard as the Elfstars jog toward the academy entrance. Luke calmly walks at the rear of the pack, trying to memorize as many faces as he can. By the time they reach the starting line, the separate groups have become nothing more than a thick mob of groggy, excited bodies. A ripple of silence envelopes the crowd as the students in the front shush those behind them. Many of the taller students point toward the figure standing outside the academy walls. A shiver runs up Luke's spine when he sees Selenia waiting with a cold, predatory expression on her face. Kevin and Duggan are off to the side, discussing their plans for classes and complaining about their daily administrative duties, their cursing getting laughs from the nearby students. The headmistress holds up her hand to make sure she has everyone's attention, shooting a threatening glare at the grumbling men. Luke weaves his way to the front of the mob where he finds Nimby sitting on the ground. The halfling is dressed in an olive green nightgown with a matching cap and one fuzzy, blue slipper. His other foot is bare, except for the thick, brown fur on top, which has been neatly braided.

"You can't possibly run in that," the half-elf whispers.

"I'm not running today. I have to get papers together for a detention class," Nimby says, leaning down to wipe some dirt off his bare foot. "I can get to our woodworking project earlier than expected."

Luke nods while keeping his eyes on Selenia as she makes her announcement. "There will be a small change for today's run. It would appear one of you thinks he can defeat me in my territory. Many people have challenged me and none of them have been able to keep up, much less pass me. I have accepted this person's challenge because I think he needs to learn that there will always be battles he should avoid. Are you ready, young Callindor?"

Flexing his shoulders and stretching his arms, Luke goes to stand next to her. The students whisper to each other and the few words that he can catch tell him they are not on his side. As he listens to the muffled talking, the forest tracker remembers Kevin mistaking him for a challenger. It is a sudden, unnerving realization that makes him start to doubt his chances. After all, if Selenia gets more challengers than students, she would not be rusty like he originally hoped. He sighs and accepts that it is too late to back out of the challenge and there has to be a chance he can win. At the very least, he hopes to avoid getting destroyed and humiliated.

"Kevin will tell the rest of you when to start. Let's go, Luke," Selenia orders, assuming a casual starting position. The younger half-elf balances on his fingers and toes, never letting his eyes leave his opponent.

"Go!" Kevin shouts. The half-elves are off like arrows, the echo of Kevin's booming voice still ringing in the air. Within seconds, they are at the tree line and disappear into the forest. All of the students at the gate stare with open mouths at their speed.

"Three gold coins say he'll be at least ten minutes behind her," Duggan says, watching the dust trails dissipate in the breeze.

"This is Ilan Callindor's son," Kevin responds, his voice bristling with confidence. "Five gold coins say he'll be hot on her heels, but he isn't going to win. Not today anyway."

*****

From the beginning of the race, Selenia remains a few precious steps ahead of Luke. He is not surprised considering they are in her domain, the headmistress probably having memorized the area down to the smallest stone. To his dismay, she is nowhere near as slow and sluggish as he thought a retired warrior would be. She sprints as if she is on flat ground instead of the uneven forest floor. Judging by her short lead, Luke assumes she is as fast and agile as he is, unless she is holding back. A feeling of dread washes over him when he imagines Selenia bursting ahead, leaving him choking on her trail. He growls to himself, pushing the confidence-sapping idea from his mind.

If Selenia runs faster, he will simply have to force himself to his breaking point. It is an energizing thought that he knows is easier to imagine than put into practice because Visindor is on the headmistress's side. To drive this point home, Luke occasionally trips over a tree root or has to leap over a rock he cannot avoid without slowing down. Every time he stumbles, Selenia gets a few more steps ahead. The only positive thought he can come up with is that Selenia never leaves his line of sight. He feels a rush of adrenaline whenever she looks back with a cocky smirk. It is a magical moment watching her mouth melt into a frown when she realizes he is not far behind.

"Not bad, kid," the headmistress calls back, vaulting over a stream. "Let's take a more scenic route and make this challenge last."

The forest tracker clears the stream with ease, but he can sense his opponent is moving faster. Looking at his surroundings, Luke remembers a trick that used to help him escape his grandfather. He examines the network of branches above him and decides he has nothing to lose. He makes a nimble leap off a boulder to a low branch and flips into the trees. He stays in the canopy where he bounces along the branches, no longer slowed by the rocky ground. Several flexible branches give him an extra boost as they catapult him. The young warrior is about to pass Selenia, but a dagger splinters the branch he is jumping to. A reflexive tumble helps Luke land safely and he smoothly rolls out of it into a full sprint.

"Are you a warrior or a monkey?" she taunts with short laugh.

Luke takes a deep breath and runs as fast as he can toward a nearby tree, which is small and thin. He leaps at the light blue tree, planting his feet against its rubbery trunk. He has enough time to aim before he launches at another flexible tree, his eyes searching for a third. He ricochets from one rubbery plant to another, gaining enough momentum to catch up to Selenia. The sounds of dull thuds followed by shaking leaves cause the headmistress to peek over her shoulder. She slows down for half a second to make sure she is really seeing this act of ingenuity and desperation.

The forest tracker is a few feet behind her when he collides with an invisible object. He tumbles away from Selenia, feeling an unseen creature clutching his chest. He can hear terrified whimpering from the beast, so he curls his body to protect the small thing from injury. He kicks his legs out when they get near a large rock, avoiding a painful impact. No longer watching the forest tracker, Selenia disappears around a thick redwood, which Luke crashes into. He unfurls his aching body and feels the creature jump off him.

"Owies! That hurted. Watch where you go," squeaks a little voice as the adorable beast materializes. Luke stares in awe at the small dragon hovering before him on iridescent red dragonfly wings. The creature has smooth, purple scales that shimmer in sunlight and its underbelly repeatedly shifts from dark pink to dull red with every hissing breath. Tiny claws stick out of its narrow fingers and toes, which are splayed in a display of anxiety. A slender tail, nearly twice the length of the little dragon's body, slowly weaves in the air and arches over its head.

"Great Uli," Luke gasps, regaining his ability to speak. He scrambles to his hands and knees as the creature flutters around, coming to a rest on his shoulder. "You're a drite. I've heard about your kind. I never dreamed I would ever meet one. I'm very sorry I crashed into you. Are you hurt?"

"Fizzle fine. A little . . . little . . . what word? It wiggle wobble feel. Fizzle no like you speech."

Luke winces as he tries to get up, falling back against the tree. To avoid whimpering in pain, he concentrates on the little dragon curiously peering at him from his shoulder. He notices a bulge at the top of the drite's throat that gently rolls under the skin. It is oddly hypnotic as the scales over the area turn different shades of purple. The half-elf rapidly blinks his eyes in order to break whatever spell has stolen his attention.

"I think you mean jostled. Where did you learn trade-speak?" Luke asks, failing to get up again. "Owww. My spine and shoulders are going to be feeling this for a while. I haven't even started my combat classes yet."

"Small human teach Fizzle. She not big like you. Ears not sharp. Fizzle not sure what big ones call her kind," the drite answers, scratching his head with the end of his tail.

"Sounds like a child, which explains the problem with big words," the half-elf says while smiling at the drite. He looks at the sky and realizes how much time has passed. "I should be getting back to the academy and face the heckling about losing the race. Not just losing, but getting destroyed. At least I came close to catching up even though only Selenia and you will believe me." Luke struggles to get into an awkward crouch and whimpers. "That's better, but I still feel like a herd of deer ran me over. This is going to be a long and tiring day. Maybe I'll skip breakfast and get a few apples from Nimby."

The drite darts into the air and drools, the shimmering liquid hitting the half-elf's knee. "Apples? Fizzle love apples! Taste good and sweet and crunchy and yummy and mmmmm. Can I go with?"

"Sure. I take it Fizzle is your name. My name is Luke. I'm a student at Selenia's academy and an experienced forest tracker."

"I hear about you!" the tiny dragon excitedly exclaims, shaking the warrior's hand with his tail and helping him stand. "Aminals say forest child here. Brown birdie say you here to stop big evil in trees. Is false?"

The drite sneezes, releasing a small spurt of rainbow smoke from his nostrils. Luke holds his breath, waiting for the cloud to disperse, but he still sees colors of his surroundings shift and twist. For a brief second, he thinks the trees are stepping out of the ground and preparing to walk away. A few forced blinks erase the hallucination from his vision.

"That was unnerving," the young warrior whispers, noticing Fizzle is still waiting for an answer. "I came here to stop someone from getting killed . . . or worse. I have no idea what evil is in the trees, but if it is after the person I'm protecting then I will stop it. If I don't help you by the time my mission is done then I promise to take care of this big evil in the trees before I leave. I'm a forest tracker after all, so protecting the forest is one of my primary responsibilities. It's not like some evil in the trees can stop someone who has been trained for as long as I have."

A glint of worry appears in Fizzle's bright blue, reptilian eyes. "Not normal evil in trees. This big evil. Fizzle not like when aminals leave forest. Fizzle not know what cause big evil. Luke may be un . . . un . . . not ready. You still little for big folk. Big evil is old."

"I love a challenge," Luke confidently declares, turning around and freezing. Fizzle hovers next to him, watching sweat appear on his forehead. The warrior's eyes are locked on something ahead of him.

"New friend sick?"

"I'm good. . . . a little issue."

Fizzle follows Luke's stare to see a small spider hanging a few inches from the half-elf's face. The drite wipes the spider away with his tail and the warrior immediately relaxes. The tiny dragon looks from the retreating spider to his new friend and back again, his forked tongue slipping out to lick his chin.

"I've had a problem with spiders ever since I fell into an abandoned mine as a child," the forest tracker admits, his face turning red from embarrassment. "It was filled with large poisonous spiders and it took my family a few hours to get me out without aggravating them. One of the spiders hid in my backpack and, a few days later, it attacked me in my sleep. The poison hurt a lot and I've had a fear of spiders ever since. I'm good if I can see them coming and prepare myself for them, but I freeze if I stumble onto one. Please don't tell anybody about this."

"Secret safe."

"Thanks. Let's get your apples."

Fizzle wraps his slender tail around Luke's neck for a better grip. It feels like an eternity for the half-elf to stumble and jog his way to the edge of the forest. He can hear the rest of the students coming near the edge of the forest as he crosses the killing field, which makes him feel a little better about his performance. He groans in dismay when he sees Selenia leaning against the entrance to the academy, the headmistress calmly watching him approach. She chuckles as Kevin hands over a pouch of gold pieces to a smug, gloating Duggan. She makes sure to pat Fizzle on the head before she leaves for the cafeteria. Luke cocks a suspicious eye toward the drite, who imitates the expression as best he can.

"Thanks a lot, kid," Kevin grumbles as he limps away.

*****

"Hello, Fizzle," Betty coos when she sees Luke and the drite enter the cafeteria. "I have several apple pies that are fresh out of the oven. I don't think anyone would mind you claiming two of them."

The elderly woman cheerfully places a large pie on a nearby table as Fizzle flutters off Luke's shoulder. As soon as she steps away from the dessert, the drite becomes a purple streak of motion and dives into the warm pastry. The half-elf calmly gets a plate of mush with a slice of pumpernickel and takes a seat across from where Fizzle is making a mess. He watches the tiny dragon gobble up the entire pie, the ravenous beast smiling when Betty puts a second pastry in front of him.

"I take it you come here often, Fizzle," the forest tracker says before the drite burps and sends a wisp of his magical breath into his nose. Luke focuses on the food in front of him in an attempt to fend off the effect of the hallucinogenic gas. He feels the room spin and his vision becomes distorted, but the illusion of a giant spider vanishes before he has time to panic.

"Good food. Great pie. Nimby give Fizzle apples every one . . . two . . . three . . . four days. This yummy pie," Fizzle mumbles, using his tail to shovel the pie into his mouth.

Entertained by watching his new friend, Luke quietly eats his breakfast and never looks up when the rest of the students arrive. The first year students gawk at the tiny dragon while the older students casually wave to him. One of the Elven girls scratches him on the side of the neck as she passes by, which makes the drite coo and thump his tail on the table.

"I see you met Fizzle. This little guy is a real laugh. How's the forest been?" Nimby asks, sitting down next to Luke. The halfing is wearing a dark green shirt and brown pants that are already covered in sawdust. His mouth dry, Nimby takes a long drink of cool water and swiftly switches his empty cup for a full one off a passing student's hand.

Fizzle's bump-like horns perk up and he sniffs the air, his tail whipping in excitement. He looks around, his bright eyes falling on Selenia, who is ignoring the hovering drite. It is not until the drite flips in the air that the headmistress goes out of her way to walk by the table and toss an apple high into the air. With a happy squeal, the tiny dragon catches it with his tail and peels the skin off with his hind claws.

"Forest quiet. Big evil in trees. Getting bigger," Fizzle says, his stomach rumbling louder than Luke could have imagined. The drite finishes off the last of the pie, devours the peeled apple, and inhales the peel through his pursed lips. "Many aminals moving away. Fizzle safe because Fizzle can disa . . . dista . . . not be seen. If they find Fizzle then Fizzle make them go poof."

"Go poof?" Luke asks.

Nimby swallows a forkful of mush before explaining, "The little guy knows some pretty big spells since he's really old. I saw him use the so-called poof spell on a giltris. I actually felt sorry for the oversized leather belt. The real name of the spell is disintegration. The problem is that the little guy doesn't always aim and the spell is incredibly destructive."

Luke turns to the entrance in time to see an out-of-place figure wander into the cafeteria. It is a rotund, little man with greasy, black hair and dark red eyes that are twice the size of a human's. His graying beard is neatly trimmed, but it is as greasy as his hair. Several scorch marks are on his shirt, which used to be blue before getting covered in oil and grime. Thin-rimmed glasses hang from a shirt pocket, looking like they have been dropped and stepped on hundreds of times. Nobody else pays much attention to the gnome as he grabs a plate and sits on a lonely stool in the corner.

"Good food. Too noisy. Fizzle be in forest. If Fizzle find news on big evil, Fizzle let Luke know. Bye-bye." The drite disappears in a shimmer of golden magic. The last sign of him is a soft rush of wind from his wings as he darts out an open window.

"I got a copy of the first year list from Kevin," the halfling whispers, leaning under the table as if he is picking up a dropped fork. "I told him I wanted to contact the parents of a few troublemakers in my class. The copy is enchanted, so it will turn to dust by the morning or if I try to copy it. There are one hundred and eighty three kids with their names, hometown, age, and a parent or guardian's name on file. The other first year students have been handpicked by Selenia, so it can't be one of those if she is in the dark. It shouldn't be too hard to track down this heir now."

"We'll see about that. I have martial arts with Selenia after breakfast followed by blacksmithing, so going over things will have to wait until lunch," Luke explains, pausing to wolf down some food. He groans and drinks some water to help with the sudden stomach cramp. "We should bring in someone who knows more about monsters and . . . evil things than we do. If the big evil in the forest is what we're up against, I would really like someone with knowledge on our side. I was thinking of talking to a half-elven priest I saw when I got here yesterday. Priests are trustworthy as long as their god is good-natured. I believe he had a sun emblem on his clothing. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

Everyone is startled by a high-pitched shriek of surprise cutting through the wall of conversations. Luke and Nimby turn to see a wooly sheep standing on one of the tables. It wanders in a tight circle, stopping to bark like an angry dog at a red-haired girl, who is keeping her plate away from it. The sheep growls at the student until Selenia gets to her feet and hurls her empty cup at the animal. The cup strikes the sheep, causing the animal to disappear in a faint glimmer of sparkles. Several students laugh about the illusion and their conversations slowly return, most students whispering about the mysterious beast. Selenia glares in the direction of the gnome, who is sifting through his breakfast like nothing happened. Without looking up, he blows the headmistress a kiss.

"What happened?" Luke asks, staring from the gnome to Selenia.

"Fritz Warrenberg is back from Gaia," Nimby replies, shaking his head and fighting to hold back his laughter. "He's the resident siege weapon expert and an illusionist. He is also a famous inventor, biological chronicler, sheep breeder, and, in his words, purveyor of women's hearts. I have to talk to him after breakfast because Fritz always has interesting stories when he gets back from a big city. You should meet him, Luke, but don't volunteer for any of his tests. He's still paying off the damage from his last experiment."

The half-elf smiles as he observes the greasy gnome in the corner. Fritz is still eating his breakfast with a furrowed brow, occasionally looking up from his notebook and watching the students. At first it appears he is mindlessly scanning the room, but Luke notices he tends to stop for a brief instant before going back to his notebook. It takes a second for the forest tracker to follow one of his momentary gazes to a beautiful half-elven girl. Eventually, the gnome's eyes roam to the red-head that he scared with a sheep. He stops his girl watching when a towering female orc catches him and glares at him with her intense green eyes. Fritz smirks and licks his lips at the tall beauty, cringing when she cracks her knuckles. Thoroughly intimidated, the gnome goes back to his notebook and slowly eats his breakfast.

"He's definitely an interesting character," Luke admits while Nimby waves to the gnome. "So, do you know anything about that priest?"

"I only know the basics," the halfling claims, his eyes still watching for any sign of mischief. Disappointed that the gnome appears to be on his best behavior, Nimby sighs and turns his attention back to his friend. "His name is Aedyn Karwyn and he is a mid-ranked priest of Durag, the Sun God. The story is that the kid is seventeen and his order has already made him a messenger of the sun. There are rumors about him being here to investigate the undead of the Caster Swamp. I'm not sure if that's true or not because Aedyn hasn't left the academy since he arrived four weeks ago. I could talk to him if you want. He sits in on some of my classes because the woodshop has a lot of windows to let the sawdust out. I should warn you that he is a rock. I could drop a log on his foot during his meditation and his concentration wouldn't break. Not that I would do something so malicious to the poor guy."

"It looks like people are leaving for classes. I'm sure Selenia would beat on me for being late," Luke says, getting up and handing his plate to a passing assistant cook. "I'll talk to you at lunch, Nimby. Let's hope I can get through today without getting in trouble."

The cafeteria is a mess as the students push to get out to their first class. Instead of forcing his way through the front door, Luke climbs out a windows and jogs to one of the distant practice yards. He is not surprised to find that the yard is hidden in the back corner of the academy where nobody can spy on the private class. The first one to arrive, he stretches and anxiously waits for everyone else to arrive. A few minutes pass before someone violently slaps him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off-balance. Luke rolls his eyes to the sky as he turns around, coming nose to nose with Kellia.

### "Your carcass is mine, half breed," she growls, flashing a cocky grin.
5

Nimby takes his time eating his breakfast since his next class is in the afternoon. Betty is the only person left in the cafeteria by the time he finishes his meal and leaves his plate on the counter. The halfling swipes some fresh fruit from a basket that has been left near the entrance to the bustling kitchen. Whistling a cheerful tune, Nimby walks out the door instead of sneaking out a window. A songbird on the roof joins the halfling in his song as he strolls across the courtyards. He passes several classes where students are already covered in sweat or relaxing on the grass nursing bruises and cuts. Some days he is surprised the students are able to walk, much less get up every day for classes.

"That lumber shipment better get here today or I'll have to cancel classes. That will leave me with nothing to do," the halfling complains, juggling the stolen fruit. "My father always said a bored thief is a troublemaking thief and I don't want to prove him right. Guess I should enjoy the sun and hang around the fountain for a while."

Dragonflies whizz around the clear surface of the fountain water, their wings bright in the early sunlight. Nimby tries to imitate a warbling birdsong when a loud scream of pain startles him. The noise echoes across the courtyards, reaching the edge of the forest before it dies. He is positive it came from Selenia's martial arts class, which is hidden behind the Grandguard dormitory. He takes a step in that direction when he trips over an invisible foot and tumbles into the fountain. Deep and hearty laughing fills the air as the halfling scrambles to his feet and sputters for air. He clambers out of the fountain, shaking the water from his clothes and glaring toward the sound of laughter.

"That is the twenty-eighth time I've knocked you into the water. I'm beating you by three dunks, old friend," Fritz declares, appearing on the edge of the gurgling fountain. The gnome's voice is very deep and he chortles when he sees the fish attacking a partially eaten apple.

Nimby joins in the laughter before grabbing his friend's legs and flipping him into the fountain. The gnome lands back first in the shallow water, causing a big enough splash that it drenches both of them. The soaked halfling swiftly picks up some fish that are flopping on the ground, placing them back in the water. One of them bounces off Fritz's head as he crawls to the edge of the fountain, draping himself over the rim. Nimby notices the gnome's glasses have a new bend in the frame thanks to the fall. He is about to mention it when he remembers his lost fruit and decides they are even now.

"Ahead by two now," the halfling states, pouring the water out of his boots and onto the grass. "Geez, Fritz. Your hair is still greasy even after getting dunked in fresh water. I'd get out of there before you kill the fish. So, how was your trip to Gaia?"

Climbing out of the fountain, Fritz shakes the dirty water from his hair. Nimby is disgusted by the globs that stick to the side of the fountain and slowly ooze to the ground. The gnome sees the expression and pulls out a small bottle with an eye dropper. Humming a droning tune, he puts a drop of amber liquid on every glob, which fizzes and bubbles into a fine mist that is dispersed by the gentle breeze.

"Exciting as usual," Fritz proudly admits, tucking the bottle back into his pocket. He leans against the fountain, running his hands along the smooth edges. "I visited my third cousin from my father's side who is working in an alchemy lab near the dockyards. He is very close to inventing a metallic rope with straw-like flexibility, but the current version is too thick for use outside of tying up boats. I tried to help him with the reduction procedure, but the acid I chose destroyed too much material and made the rope too fragile. Although, we learned that this product has the ability to increase the power of lightning spells, so he can make some spending money there. I get ten percent of his sales as per the Gnomish standard. On the plus side of things, the Gaian army is willing to look at my plan for a rapid-fire, self-reloading catapult. They are also considering my offer to let them see a demonstration of the prototype for a self-propelled battering ram. They are a little leery about the idea considering it involves unstable brimstone crystals and Dwarven boomstones, but I'm sure I can win them over. Finally, there were plenty of beautiful women who I attempted to indulge in at the local taverns."

"You got slapped down every night?"

A sad frown crosses Fritz's face and he sighs at the memories. "Several times, my friend. Human and Elven women don't understand my kind. We are a very complex species with needs beyond that of the tall ones. These are urgent and special needs that bards tell of in their songs. I can see I'm boring you, so I'll get to the fun stuff. There were a few interesting pieces of gossip I heard while in Gaia. Care to hear some of them? As if I have to ask."

"You know me too well," the halfling says with a beaming smile. He makes himself comfortable on the edge of the fountain, his legs folded beneath him. "I have yet to hear any gossip or stories that I didn't like. Unless you count the three-day story of my Uncle Dabbin and the goblin drinking contest. I couldn't believe how long that story was or that he even bothered to tell it in the first place. I'll never look at a mug of goblin ale the same way again. I trust you won't subject me to something worse, so gossip away, my eloquent friend."

"The only question is where to begin," Fritz wonders, curling the end of his beard around his finger. He wipes the grease and oil onto a handkerchief that evaporates the ooze. "The dwarves of Yargol Mountain discovered a new seam of gold and a pool of fae water. They are hoping to make a fortune off of these magnificent finds, but the territory is on the border of the western hobgoblin territories. So, both sides have called on old treaties to help them take control of the land. I heard Gaia sent some of their griffin riders to help the dwarves and there are signs of orc legions heading to the mountains to help the hobgoblins. If the diplomats hit a stalemate, a small war will occur. The gossip part of this story is that several of the orc legions have diverted toward the Caster Swamp. Nobody, including the orc officials who live in Gaia, knows why this happened and all attempts to find the legions has failed. Between you and me, the gnomes are already sending trade agreement pacts to the dwarves and the hobgoblins. We are hoping they share the find and grant us limited access to the resources."

Nimby lets out a fake yawn and plays with a wooden yo-yo. "Politics and war are boring, Fritz. I want to hear about the social events like noble introductions and week-long parties. Major events of the area are all well and good, but I'd rather hear about those from the people involved. You understand, right? Did anything really juicy happen in the social world of Gaia or was it boring?"

"As usual, my vertical equal, you prove your patience for world events is non-existent," the gnome teases, a look of mock disappointment on his face. "I'm sorry to say that I only came across two stories that might appeal to you and I could only confirm one of them."

"Then tell me the confirmed story first. I can sleep through the other one."

Fritz clears his throat, standing on the fountain edge and holding his shirt lapels as if he is giving a grand speech. "I love giving history lessons. Don't pout, old friend. This information is necessary for my story to make complete sense. Now, the casters known as Cyril and Willow are the protectors of Gaia and members of the Grand Counselors who have kept the peace for over two-hundred years." Fritz stops when he notices Nimby gazing into the distance. "Fine, that's enough history before I lose your child-like attention span. So, I was walking through the marketplace when I heard people talking about Cyril's prized apprentice being introduced to the public. Supposedly, they kept this girl in Rainbow Tower for most of her life, which made her an urban legend until recently. I don't know her name, but she was given a public introduction as the top apprentice of Gaia. I heard from a bartender that she is not someone you should mess with unless you have lived a full life and are ready to die."

"Why is that?" his friend asks while jotting down several notes on a piece of parchment and tucking it into one of his many inner pockets.

"The girl has been trained in the art of magic since she was a toddler," the gnome replies as if the answer is obvious. He sighs and leans on his knees, prompting the halfling to move closer. "A local yam farmer, who saw her in action, told me the girl is a natural caster. She can use magic for longer periods of time than other casters and doesn't need incantations or gestures. It is like her aura is endless. Supposedly, she has a habit of using destructive spells without restraint, which is probably why she was previously a myth. Like all apprentices, she must have snuck out of the tower a few times, got into trouble, and used magic to escape. People tend to notice when a tavern explodes or a pickpocket is found bonded to a solid wall."

"How would the yam farmer have seen this girl in action? It would be like me seeing a Lich rise from the grave. The likelihood is slim at best."

"I agree completely," Fritz responds with a bronze-toothed smile. "At first, I didn't believe an apprentice could wield such magic. Then I was taken to a smoldering crater that used to be the lair of a Mace Dragon. I remember there being a large hill with a cave in this location, but it isn't there any more. I dug up some public records on the incident, which verified the story. The girl was one of three casters sent to slay the monster and she was the only one to return. She was sent because she accepted the summons for her teachers and used magic to make herself look like Willow. She was revealed when the real Willow arrived in Gaia before she could return from the battle. This happened when she was sixteen and the crater is still smoking." The gnome wistfully looks to the sky and sighs, earning a roll of the eyes from his companion. "Too bad I never got to meet her. We could have discussed the subtleties of using carefully orchestrated explosions to defeat stronger foes. I still have some burn bombs left from last summer's trip to Cerascent. Maybe she could have improved their already powerful force."

"Only you would think about asking a prodigal battle caster to help improve on your explosives," Nimby says while he absent-mindedly draws pictures in a patch of dirt. "Do you know anything else about this girl?"

"I heard she is pretty. Physically, she is three steps below a knockout and would look better if she tried. Although, there is her nasty temper to take into account," Fritz answers, a small shiver of fear coursing through his body. "I walked into the Vivid Griffin an hour after she had left and there was a man-sized hole in a wall. I was told she got pinched on the butt and she magically hurled the culprit through the wall. The girl likes to fight, tending to finish anything she gets involved in even if she didn't start it. Bet the Gnomish charm could soothe her soul and warm her loins."

Nimby falls onto his back, laughing hysterically. The gnome casts a silence spell around the halfling, so he does not have to listen to the high-pitched racket. A group of students walk by the instructors, whispering to each other and eyeing the gnome, who becomes uncomfortable with the attention. He is thankful when the students leave and his friend calms down, his breathing heavy and tears rolling down his cheeks. The silence spell disappears as another loud scream of pain rips through the air, echoing for several seconds. Fritz is on his feet looking around while Nimby slowly stands up.

"What was that?" the gnome asks in mild surprise.

"Probably someone from Selenia's martial arts class," his friend casually replies without looking up. "Somebody must have pissed her off. Either that or Kellia is causing trouble again. Maybe both. So, what's the unconfirmed rumor?"

"Keep in mind that I heard this from a leprous half-orc near one of the less respectable bars of Gaia," Fritz warns the excited halfling. He lowers his voice to a gentle whisper that only Nimby can hear. "I was getting supplies for my return trip when I saw him asking for coins on the corner. I gave him enough to last him the week and an ointment for his ailment, so he shared some information with me. He was in Visindor Forest hunting for food when he overheard a clandestine conversation before he was scared away by zombies. Supposedly, Duke Solomon has secretly sent his heir to this academy. The mere idea sounds ridiculous because Selenia would have been informed. The only true part of the half-orc's story is that there was a messenger of the Duke in the area. The man was found dead in the river a few hours north of Gaia, but he had no message scrolls or anything else to prove the royal heir is here. It's probably people jumping to conclusions after they found the body in the river. Large amounts of alcohol must have been involved too."

Nimby anxiously wrings his fingers as he gives Fritz a wide, unnerving smirk. The halfling breaks eye contact, nervously scanning the courtyard like he is being hunted. He makes sure they are completely alone before turning back to his friend.

"You ok? Did you steal something while I was talking to you?" Fritz asks, looking around frantically. "I find it difficult to keep your secret when you take such risks. What are you looking for?"

"That isn't a rumor," his friend whispers as he excitedly bounces on his toes. "I met the person who is supposed to be protecting the heir. He's pretending to be a new student and he asked me to help him."

Fritz pats at his pants and shirt in search of his clay pipe and an ignition stone. With a few muttered words, the brown rock emits a burst of flame and he enjoys the taste of sweet, calico-grown tobacco. "No, Nimby. One of the first years is playing games with you after hearing the same rumor. You would need a highly skilled fighter for this job and a first year couldn't keep it hidden from Selenia. Besides, that woman is the best in the region and the Duke would be a fool to go to anyone else for help. The only other person in Visindor that would be a sensible choice as a bodyguard is the Paladin who was found dead seventeen hours south from here. Something crucified the body as a warning that evil things are moving around Visindor. That is another reason the Duke would never hire an amateur to protect his lone heir. That is if there really is royalty in within our walls. My overall point is that if the heir was here, Selenia would know and make the proper precautions."

"What if I could prove it to you?"

The gnome puffs out a few rings that burst against the cascading water. "You can try all you want. Here is the deal, my good friend. I will believe it when I get to talk to this bodyguard in person. If he is playing you for a fool, I will report his actions to Selenia."

"Deal. Meet me and Luke at Aedyn Karwyn's room after dinner. Then, I'll make you eat your words, Warrenberg," Nimby swears. A bell rings from the administrative building and students file into the courtyard. The halfling disappears into the crowd as Fritz smokes his pipe and relaxes, his mind reviewing what he has heard.

"Crazy halfling. Wonder what trouble he's getting into now," the gnome mutters, his lips smacking at the end of his pipe. "Ah well, this should be entertaining for a day or two. Maybe three or four days if I decide to play along."

He empties the pipe onto the grass and makes an odd bleating noise, calling a chubby ewe to the fountain. Fritz hops onto the sheep's wooly back, gently kicking her in the sides to get her sauntering toward the central building. Students stare and giggle at the odd sight while Fritz revels in the attention. The sheep slows her pace, nervously watching the gathered crowd. She makes a few panicked bleats in the direction of the students, who politely step back to give her space.

"Don't worry, Bessaria. They're jealous that they don't have an amazing riding sheep like you."

*****

"You're going to be in so much trouble when my dad finds out about this!" shouts a slender, black-haired girl whose injured arm is being tended to by Selenia. "He's rich and has a lot of influence in the courts! I'll send him a message and this academy will be turned into a bakery! My dad didn't pay you so I could have my arm broken!"

The headmistress glances at the large boy lying unconscious in the middle of the sparring circle. She prods the young man with her foot, causing him to groan and roll onto his stomach. With a snap of her fingers, four other students pick up their fallen classmate and carry him to the infirmary.

"Shut up, Kira," Selenia mutters, hoping the young woman will listen. "You knocked Roland out, so be happy with that. Go to the infirmary and get fixed up."

"I swear this academy will pay for this," the angry student declares. Selenia slaps her across the face with enough force to knock her to the ground. Everyone, except the students still sparring, stop what they are doing to watch the one-sided fight.

"This academy is not responsible for your arm. Blame your own foolishness for your injury," the toned half-elf explains, slowly dragging Kira to her feet by her hair. "As we practiced yesterday, you should have jumped as he flipped you instead of resisting because he is stronger. You have to use your lighter weight and agility to your advantage when facing an opponent who relies on raw strength. Consider yourself lucky Roland was holding back and went limp when he realized what was happening. His awareness is why your arm is dislocated and not shattered."

Kira opens her mouth to speak, but goes silent when the headmistress cracks her knuckles and says, "As for your father, he knows my reputation for tough training and the high possibility of injury. I remind you that you remain in this academy by my good graces and not your father's wealth. I can send you home where you will face whatever your father does to failed children. So, shut up and get moving to the infirmary before I drag you there by the skin of your ass."

Kira nurses her arm, the brown-skinned girl scowling at her feet and muttering under her breath. Selenia shoves the student toward the infirmary, turning back to the rest of the class. All of the relaxing students scramble back to their sparring circles.

"Arrogant brat," Kellia mutters while Luke struggles to keep her in a chokehold. She grabs his arm, spinning him so that she is wrenching the limb behind his back. "She thinks she can boss people around because her father is in politics. I'd never be caught doing that if my father had power or influence. It's so . . . pathetic."

"Who is her father?" the half-elf gasps, swiftly breaking her hold.

"I don't know or care," she states, circling her classmate and keeping him at bay with a few fake grabs. "I tend to stay out of stuff like that. Politicians are too slimy and their children can be real headaches. All I want is to avoid my parents' fate of being simple farmers. I'm already as strong as a barbarian from doing so much farm work, so being a warrior is a great path. Wouldn't you agree, halfer?"

Kellia smirks, pulling her arm back to deliver a stiff punch to Luke's face. The forest tracker tries to dodge, but she skillfully follows him so that the punch still connects, though with less power than she had hoped. He rolls for a few yards, coming to a stop on his side. He feels blood trickle out of his nose as he gets to his feet and trudges back to the sparring circle.

"Kellia!" Selenia roars from where she is helping another student. "How many times do I have to tell you to restrain yourself and stick to the lesson? Today's maneuvers are holds, throws, and escapes! Not punching!"

"I'm fine. I should have kept my guard up while dodging," Luke admits, a blood rimmed grin on his face.

Selenia approaches the forest tracker, grabbing him by the chin and examining his nose. He stops himself from cringing in pain when she applies pressure. Noticing his attempt to mask the pain, she jams her finger up Luke's nose. His scream rips across the academy, startling a flock of orange birds that were hunting for worms near the wall.

The headmistress releases him and wipes her blood-covered finger on his shirt. "Your nose is broken and you shouldn't set it by yourself without a first aid kit. Go to the infirmary to get it fixed and cleaned. Do you understand?"

"Yes. My nose is broken and it hurts. I will make sure not to get hit there again . . ." Luke stops to shake his head clear of a sudden wave of dizziness. "I'm not going to the infirmary until I get one more round with Kellia. I feel it's only fair since she was the one who hit me."

"Come on, pointy ears," his classmate says with a grin. "I'll beat you into the ground."

They take a step toward each other, their fists already moving to strike. With a look of disappointment on her face, Selenia steps between them and effortlessly catches both of them by the wrist. The two students try to yank their arms free, but find that they cannot break the teacher's grip.

"I'm not letting you indulge in a childish grudge match," Selenia announces, letting go of their wrists and shoving them in the direction of the infirmary. "You two want to have a practice fight? Then, you will wait for our next session. That means you have until tomorrow to mature and prove that you deserve to be in my class. If you continue getting into fights with each other, I will suspend both of you for two weeks."

The headmistress hears the other students mumbling behind her back, several voices wishing the fight would happen. She picks up a stone and hurls it at the group of students, which silences them very quickly. "You're new here, Callindor, so don't get excited about suspension. It is true you won't have to go to any of your classes and you can skip the morning run. Without classes, the two of you can rest for the entire day. Though come the night, your squabbling carcasses are mine. Your duties may be basic such as cleaning the entire academy or performing the night watch above the stable's manure pile. Maybe even a trip to the edge of the Caster Swamp to teach you how important teamwork is in the field. Another transgression like this will be enough for me to put some fear into you. In fact, you two are permanent partners in this class, so you better get along quickly. You share each other's victories and failures."

"But . . ." Kellia starts, her courage already wavering.

Selenia fixes both students with an icy, daring glare. "Quiet! I won't hear any more complaining. Go to the infirmary, Luke. I want you to go with him, Kellia, and make sure he gets there. If I hear of you two fighting, both of you will be suspended."

"Yes, ma'am," the pair humbly reply, saluting their teacher. They walk in silence for a minute, taking the long way to the infirmary. Luke occasionally touches his nose, wincing at the sharp pain.

On the verge of snapping, Kellia breaks the silence as they near the smithy. "I've seen some of your father's work."

"What do you mean?" Luke asks, looking around and grabbing his nose tightly. His classmate grimaces when she hears the loud crack of him resetting it. The half-elf cannot stop himself from screaming louder than the last time, his voice bouncing off the academy walls. Some guttural laughter can be heard from the smithy as the ringing briefly stops.

"Nice work, boy! I think the entire forest heard that scream!" Duggan yells from one of the open windows. "You get points for the attempt though!"

Luke laughs a little, which causes twinges of pain in his face. "Good to see I have an audience. Now, what do you mean by my father's work? I assume you mean some kind of weapon."

"It was a great axe made from this strange, colorful metal," Kellia replies while she scratches her head. She pulls a twig out of her tresses, flicking it into a nearby barrel. "A barbarian was helping the local soldiers defend our village from a Staff Dragon and he let my father look at his weapon. The man said the great axe was a coming of age weapon that Ilan Callindor had made for his father forty years ago. I'm guessing your sabers are the same metal because they had a similar shine. I peeked in your wardrobe after our encounter yesterday. Personally, I would prefer the axe, but your sabers are beautiful weapons. How good are you at using them?"

They reach the infirmary before Luke can answer, but a torrent of swearing hits his ears like a battering ram when he opens the door. He is surprised and impressed to hear the brown-skinned girl from his class use profanity in twelve languages. A sideways glance at Kellia reveals she is equally confused, but not that impressed. The furious girl gets louder with a frustrated shriek, so Luke gently closes the door and takes a seat on the grass.

"I don't want to listen to her at full volume," he says with a tired sigh. "As for your question, I'm really good at swordplay. I feel very confident that I could defeat any of the other students here. I could even give Selenia a brief challenge before she puts me in a hospital bed for a week. Is that good enough for you?"

Kellia sits on the other side of the doorframe, plucking a blade of grass and putting it between her lips. "More or less. I was curious considering how arrogant you are. So far you seem to be all talk and no skill."

"I haven't had a reason to use my skills. Besides, I wouldn't be here if I didn't need more training," the half-elf defensively claims as he stretches his back and shoulders. "Now, I have a question for you."

"Go ahead, but I'll be heading out once you ask. Don't want anyone thinking I enjoy your company. I'm just a little sorry about damaging your fragile, girlish nose."

Luke arches his eyebrow at the insult, but decides to ignore it. "Why would a farmer like your father be curious about weapons like great axes? I would expect him to be more interested in plows and shovels. A weapon like a great axe would have no practical use on a farm."

"That is one of the most ignorant things I've ever heard!" Kellia angrily exclaims, jumping to her feet. She lunges in an attempt to catch the half-elf by the shirt, but he ducks out of the way. "I'll have you know my father is a great man. He was, and still could be, a decorated warrior if he didn't have other responsibilities. Just because he no longer paces the battlefield doesn't mean he has forgotten the thrill of holding a weapon."

"Calm down! I'm sorry," he apologizes, dancing away from her wild grabs. "You keep this up and we're going to be in the Caster Swamp before the day is done."

He rolls past Kellia when she tries to catch him by the neck, giving him an opening to sprint into the infirmary. The brawny girl is still turning around as Luke shoves the door open and escapes. She tries to follow, but Kira stumbles out and accidentally blocks her path.

"Watch where you're going, half-elf!" she shouts before turning to come face-to-face with a seething Kellia.

For a brief second, Kellia thinks her classmate has struck a perfect defensive pose from their martial arts class. She considers mentioning it when she notices the young woman's terrified expression and quivering arms. If Kira did strike the pose then it must have been an accident and she is still the clumsy, obnoxious student everyone thinks she is.

"You are such a weakling," the sneering tomboy states, flipping her middle finger at Kira and walking away.

"The hell did I do?"

*****

Aedyn's room smells of fresh parchment and candle smoke with the occasional whiff of holy water joining the mix. A stone urn of glowing water sits on a high shelf, creating a churning circle of light on the ceiling. Several half-written books are strewn across the desk and bed, making the room look like a wind spell has recently gone off. In the middle of the scholarly mess, the priest sits on the only free chair, his quarterstaff held across his lap. The black-haired priest stares at his door, his eyes occasionally shifting to check on his unexpected guests. Nimby is quietly perched on the edge of the bed while Fritz sits on his trusty riding sheep, running a comb through his greasy hair. Aedyn is confused on how he let the halfling talk him into allowing the sheep into his room. Still, out of the three guests, he trusts the sheep more than his other guests. Silently wondering what he is getting involved in, the priest is relieved when Luke enters the dimly lit room.

"I'm honored that you're willing to meet with me," the forest tracker says while closing the door behind him. He extends his hand to the priest, who accepts it without hesitation. "I'm Luke Callindor. It's kind of hard to see in here, Master Karwyn."

"You may call me Aedyn and I prefer my light to be the natural light of Durag. He bestows the only true light I need in this world," the black-haired priest responds with a slight nod to the shining pot. "My sun urn is sufficient for the night hours."

"Then, I apologize for my complaint."

Aedyn briefly smiles at the young warrior, his face swiftly returning to a serious mask. "I believe Nimby has gathered us here to help you on a supposed bodyguard mission. He has shared some information before your arrival, but it did not paint a positive picture. You want the three of us to go behind the backs of our employers and take time out of our personal agendas to help you with this rumored mission. Fritz has admitted to checking the academy files for your letter of introduction and acceptance paperwork. He has proven that Duke Solomon sent you here, but it does not prove you were sent here on a secret mission. I would like some evidence that this is not a fabrication."

"Uh, who invited Fritz to this?" Luke asks, eyeing the gnome and sheep.

Nimby raises his hand, shifting uncomfortably when the forest tracker faces him. "I'm sorry, Luke. I know you told me not to tell anyone about this without talking to you first, but Fritz is a good friend. He's very smart, he knows magic, and he was there for me when I arrived here."

The forest tracker sighs uncomfortably, looking from the halfling to the gnome. "I don't doubt that he's a good man, Nimby."

"I apologize for this intrusion. I promise not to reveal your so-called mission," Fritz announces, hopping off Bessaria and taking her reins. "It was not entirely Nimby's fault that I found out. I heard rumors about the Duke's heir attending the academy and shared this information with Nimby. In his mind, he finally had more information on gossip than me, so he shared your tale. I refused to believe him when he said the stories were true, so I demanded proof. That is why I looked at your letter of acceptance and why I'm here. So, it's my fault and I'll leave if you wish."

"Wait, Fritz," Luke requests, running his hand through his hair. "You already know more than you should and Nimby trusts you enough to break his promise with me. Also, it would seem Aedyn trusts you enough to allow you into his room."

The priest clears his throat and moves his staff to the floor. "Actually, he came in with Nimby and I'm still unsure as to why I granted them entry."

"Well, I guess he's staying," Luke claims with an awkward smile. "We could use a caster and you've been at the academy longer than the rest of us. That will be a big help when we have to meet in secret. Welcome aboard, Mr. Warrenberg."

"I will not betray you, young Callindor, but I have yet to believe you. Now, dazzle me with the truth."

The forest tracker sits cross-legged on the floor and meets the expectant gazes. "I'm well aware that I'm asking for a lot. I would have preferred to do this by myself and not put anyone else in danger, but I lack important information. I have no idea who the heir is or what type of agent will be infiltrating the academy. My attempts to investigate other students through asking about their families have failed. Most times I get strange looks and they move away. Other times, I get scolded by a nearby teacher for prying into people's privacy. So, I'm depending on Nimby to get me the first year student files, which I can use to narrow down the list of possible heirs. As for proving my story, I don't have any evidence because the information scrolls were lost with the Paladin, who was the original bodyguard. He was killed by some enhanced zombies less than a day's travel southeast of here."

"He speaks the truth," Aedyn calmly confirms, his eyes watching the area above Luke's head. "My protective spells would have told me if he was lying with a symbol."

"Wait a second!" Fritz exclaims, snapping his fingers. He scratches Bessaria's head, the sheep startled by his outburst. "Nobody knows about the Paladin, except the guards and thieves of Gaia. Ram's Temple has requested secrecy to save face. It would be very embarrassing for it to be revealed that a seasoned Paladin was killed by humanoid zombies. I'm guessing you were there when he fell in battle and had a hand in the destruction of the zombies. I heard some guards mention that the slash markings on the zombies were not those of a broadsword, but of smaller, thinner blades. Nimby mentions you use sabers, which would explain the wounds. I think I heard the evidence that you're here for more than training and Selenia's glowing personality. Besides, I've heard enough rumors in Gaia to know that something is happening at the academy. A Callindor showing up and claiming to be a secret bodyguard is probably not a coincidence."

The gnome blows his nose into his handkerchief before continuing, "Now, getting student files will be a difficult task. Selenia will be furious with all four of us if we keep your mission a secret from her. That lady has the temper of a female dwarf who's been told her ale tastes like hog swill."

Luke and Aedyn eye him suspiciously while Nimby whispers, "You didn't."

"Yes, I've made that mistake and lived to speak of it," the gnome admits with a violent shudder. "I assume we'll handle the Selenia problem if we run into it. This could be a lot of fun and make a good tale to tell the Gaian tavern wenches. I might get some young tail if I help save royalty. Not to mention the Duke rewarding me with an inventor's grant. Ever since the sinking of Malteria, it's been difficult for gnomes to earn grants in Serab. It wasn't like it was a total disaster. Everyone was evacuated safely. Well, one woman broke her leg, but nothing is perfect."

Confused by Fritz's rambling, Luke scratches his head and turns to the priest. "I've been meaning to ask you something, Aedyn. What agenda do you have here? This is an academy for warriors and they already have a healer. There seems to be no place here for a follower of the sun."

Aedyn rises from his chair and takes a few seconds to quietly examine his paper-covered desk. He rolls up the sleeve of his amber shirt and reaches into a pile of blank paper, carefully extracting a dirty scroll tied with a white ribbon. Once the scroll is free, the pile of papers slides to the floor, covering the priest's feet. He mutters a few words, making a sign in the air above the mess as the others watch in silence. A small breeze enters through the open window, gently moving the papers back onto the desk. They remain neatly stacked until the spell stops and the pile topples over again. A twinge of annoyance crosses Aedyn's face, but it is such a quick expression that his guests are unsure they saw it.

"This states my assignment," the priest states, handing the scroll to Luke. "My temple has asked me to observe this academy and decide if it is worthy to be used as a training center for battle priests. So far the teaching ethic, open air environment, and class structure have impressed me, but I still have many things to examine before I make my decision. This is an important task I have been given. How will my helping to save this mysterious heir earn me the information I need, Mr. Luke?"

"Please don't call me that. I'm just Luke."

"My apologies."

"To answer your question," the forest tracker slowly begins, pretending to have a coughing fit to stall for time. "I'm a student here and you can observe how the training I receive helps me become a better warrior. Problem solved. Now, do you have the student list, Nimby? I really need to take a look at it before I go to sleep."

Luke gets to his feet and moves toward Nimby, but Aedyn thrusts his staff in the way of his legs. The half-elves stare at each other, the warrior unsure of what is about to happen and the priest's face unreadable.

"Your reasoning is not agreeable, Luke," the priest states while tapping his weapon on the floor. "From what has been revealed, you are not a true student. In actuality you are an undercover agent who was not given all necessary information before receiving a down payment on his services. Furthermore, you were trained long before you came to this academy. I gain no insight on the teaching style of this academy from watching you because you will rely more on your original training. It would be like grading a blacksmith on his abilities by giving him a sword that has been partially completed. I suggest you try to persuade me again and put some effort into it this time."

Aedyn lets a challenging grin grow on his face, which prompts Luke to take an aggressive step toward the priest. His staff is up and pointed at the warrior's chest immediately, stopping his advance. He puts very little pressure on the other half-elf's chest, telling the forest tracker that the weapon is more to keep him away than attack.

"Calm down, you two. The rest of us can go over the files while Aedyn listens. He can make his decision by the end of our meeting. I trust him to keep our secret even if he refuses to help us," Nimby says, stepping between the half-elves and flashing a friendly smile at them. "I have the list here and I narrowed it down to people from Duke Solomon's kingdom, which gives us ninety-eight students. I'm assuming he wanted to keep the heir's hometown in Serab for when Selenia did a background check. This way he could feed her false facts and plant agents to speak about her in case of interviews. Is there anything else we can use to narrow it down?"

Nimby turns his leather satchel upside down, dumping the bound files onto the ground. The pile rises up to the halfling's chin, surprising Luke that there were so many in the bag. A long master list floats out of the satchel, landing on top of the pile and causing it to sink and spread across the floor.

"You said it was a class list," Luke mentions, kneeling over the thick files.

"Well, I couldn't be sure you would make it in time before my copy of the class list was gone," the halfling explains, tossing the satchel on the bed and grabbing one of the bigger files. "So, I used a magic powder to make copies of the important files. They'll be gone in the morning, so stop wasting time and start reading."

Sensing Nimby's urgency, Luke snatches the master list and scoops up some of the files. As he scans the opening pages, he realizes Selenia Hamilton does not trust anyone beyond her inner circle. Aside from names and hometowns, every student file has pages of personal information marked as pre-acceptance material. While many of his fellow classmates have a few pages, others have modest tomes consisting of reference interviews, health reports, and detailed family backgrounds.

"This is more than I expected," the young warrior groans while getting comfortable against the wall. "I can't read through all of these in one night and come away with an answer. Even my bard's memory has its limits when I try to recall detailed information from so long ago. That's if I had a clear view of what I'm trying to remember in the first place. I was small and there were so many people in my way whenever the Duke visited Haven, so I only have a vague patchwork of images to work with. I do remember he had black hair and was very tan."

"Skin color does not mean much if you get enough sun or refuse to leave the house," Aedyn casually points out.

Luke nods and bites his lower lip before pushing his frustration away. "Good point. Body type might work. He was pretty broad and tall, maybe around six and a half feet tall and well over two-hundred pounds of muscle. We can probably rule out all of the non-humans and any half-breeds who don't include human blood. The Duke wouldn't use magic to transform the heir because the spell could be tracked by enemy casters or set off alarms in the academy. This is panicky rambling, isn't it?"

Nimby grins as he claims, "Probably, but your panicky rambling has cut the list down to fifty humans and half-breeds. I have my own copy, so I'm marking people off as we go."

Fritz pats Luke on the knee and takes the master list from him. "I think you're missing the point of asking us for help, kid. We work with you instead of watching you struggle. I've been to Gods' Voice before and let me tell you that Duke Solomon's family has always been very religious. There are temples and shrines to every god, which is why the capital is called Gods' Voice. Maybe that will help us narrow the list down even further."

"Any bit of information will help," the forest tracker agrees with a smirk of relief.

"These aren't magical copies," the gnome announces when he touches one of the files. He glances at Nimby, who whistles and watches a spider in the corner of the room. "They are the original files. You honey-fingered idiot! We can get fired for this!"

"It took you this long to figure it out? You're getting slow in your old age."

"I'm not getting killed or fired for this stunt."

Fritz shuffles back to lean against Bessaria and takes a light blue wand out of his shirt pocket. He slips on his badly damaged glasses, the frame glowing a soft yellow. With a flick of the wand, he turns the pages of a file, carefully reading from a safe distance.

"Fritz is right about the temples and shrines," Aedyn agrees from his chair, his curiosity secretly peaked. "Duke Solomon is well known for putting his faith in religion more than anything else. A servant's vision would be considered equal to an advisor's common sense within his court. Yet, I do not see how that will help Luke find the heir."

"What do you care? You don't even want to help him," Nimby says, scanning one of the thicker files. His attention wavering, the halfling mindlessly spins a wooden top on the only bare section of floor while he reads.

The priest puts his foot on the wooden top and bends down to look his guest in the eye. "I never said I did not want to help him at all, but I have my own business to take care of first. Luke has yet to mention any type of situation that would require my skills. My order heals, destroys undead, and advises those who seek our wisdom. At this point, I will only give counsel without getting physically involved. Besides, you are holding your meeting in my private quarters, so you cannot tell me what I can and cannot do. Unless Luke has finally remembered something that will earn my interest and assistance."

"I'm going up against a Lich."

Aedyn's grip on his quarterstaff tightens and his blue eyes glow fiercely. He mutters an incantation, creating a small fan of light an inch above his head. Bessaria scrambles for cover, letting Fritz fall over and hit his head on a potted plant. The gnome remains on his back and adjusts a tiny dial on his glasses, the lenses growing and turning so he can continue reading. A warm breeze whips around the room as the black-haired half-elf tosses his staff from hand to hand in anxious irritation. Distracted by the display, nobody notices the victorious smirk that Luke is hiding in the corner of his mouth.

The priest kneels in front of the forest tracker, his eyes shimmering like dying embers. "If you are telling me the truth then I will gladly help you. Liches are a rare and evil disease infecting Windemere. As a follower of the sun, I have pledged my soul to destroy creatures of such darkness. According to my faith, only a named demon and the long extinct Hejinn would be considered fouler than a Lich. You have my aid until this creature has been permanently destroyed or I have uttered my final prayer."

"You seem a little obsessed there, junior," Fritz mentions from the floor. He smiles at Aedyn's glare, gesturing for the priest to calm down and sit. "I think you need to get your robes loosened by a sweet bar wench. By the way, I think your plant is dead."

"Thank you for your help, Aedyn," Luke says, nodding to his new ally. "Grab a file and join the fun."

Hours of silence pass before the forest tracker drops six files on the floor and pushes the rest of the pile to Nimby. Everyone, except Fritz, picks up two of the records and lays them open in a circle. Luke slowly gets to his feet, stretching to loosen his stiff legs and sore back.

"How do you know one of these students is the heir?" Aedyn asks before whispering a spell to help the warrior. A swirl of yellow magic strikes Luke, easing his muscles and washing the aches away. "I looked at all of these and did not see anything to make them stand out."

"Each one of these students is a first year who comes from a suburb of Gods' Voice," the young warrior explains in a voice that crackles from his dry throat. "Duke Solomon wouldn't have his heir come directly from the Serabian capital, but, as Nimby said, he would need to have control of the background to stand up to Selenia's background check. To make this ruse work, the fake background would have to explain things that the heir couldn't hide. Coming from outside of the city would explain their accent, taste in clothing, and other telltale signs of where they were raised. Even if he or she is blending in, the heir would inevitably reveal something that Selenia would catch."

Aedyn hands Luke an empty glass, motioning to create some fresh water. He waits for the blonde half-elf to finish drinking before he repeats, "So, why these six students?"

"These students come from that area, have the correct accent, and share a combination of physical traits with the Duke," the forest tracker replies, unable to hide his prideful smirk. "I factored in hair color, eye color, body type, and facial structure using my vague memories of what the Duke looked like. The only one who doesn't have the accent is this one, but her file says her family recently moved to Gods' Voice. That could be a trick by the Duke to throw the Lich off the heir's trail. We have four guys and two girls. Now, we have to figure out which one it is."

"This one is cleared because I know the boy's family. They are farmers who found a silver vein passing through their land the year he was born," Fritz informs the others, flicking his wand at the file in question. "The other five are viable options as long as the Duke isn't more cunning than we realize or the heir hasn't been magically altered. Not great odds of being right, but given our situation, it's the best we're going to get. So, what do we do now?"

Nobody answers as a warm breeze slips under the door and rustles the piles of papers scattered about the room. Nimby opens his mouth say something, but stops and goes back to playing with his wooden toys. The silence is disturbed by Bessaria shifting from foot to foot, the sheep calming down when Fritz pats her on the flank.

"I vote we try to find the assassin," Luke suggests to the wide-eyed surprise of his new friends. He holds up his hand to stop the arguments before he realizes that none of them are attempting to talk. "Hear me out. I can't concentrate on finding the heir and the assassin without risking my secret. Maybe all of you can keep an eye out for anyone suspicious while I keep up my cover. It has to be someone who arrived this semester. I'll keep an eye on these five students to see if they give themselves away. If you guys interact with any of them then you can watch for them to drop any hints. If any other students act suspicious, let me know and we'll look into it. I won't deny that I might have missed something and another student could be the heir."

He pauses uncomfortably and glances at each of his friends before adding, "None of you are obligated to help me. I don't require a pledge or oath, so you can back out if you want. Is there anything else I'm missing?"

"I think that is enough for tonight," Aedyn groggily claims, politely yawning behind his hand. "I will cast some minor protection spells around the academy to help us. I doubt they will be used any time soon, but it is best to be prepared. Goodnight to you all. It will be . . . interesting to see how we work together and where our adventure will lead us."

The priest shakes hands with Luke and uses his staff to open the door. He groans when Nimby leaves through the open window and Fritz calmly rides Bessaria into the hallway. Aedyn is surprised when Luke remains in his spot against the wall, eventually moving toward the open door. He places a hand on the frowning warrior's shoulder to stop him from leaving, his training as a benevolent priest urging him to get involved.

"Do you have anything else on your mind, Luke?"

"I'm wondering how to pull this off. I'm realizing how important this mission is and that I'm not entirely prepared," the other half-elf answers, patting the priest's fingers. He is surprised to feel a gentle flow of energy run through his body, the magic easing his aching limbs. "Don't worry about it, Aedyn. I'll be fine by the morning. I think I'm just tired and frustrated. Some sleep will help me. We'll talk tomorrow."

Without another word, Luke enters the shadowy hallway and gently closes the door behind him. Aedyn shrugs and prepares for bed while a crow with crimson eyes watches him from a branch outside the window. The bird is gone by the time the priest closes the shutters. A sudden unease washes over him and he sniffs the air until a strong wind bursts through the window, stirring up his papers. Unseen by the half-elf, a solitary feather floats on the end of the breeze, burning to ash when it touches the sun urn.

"Something is burning," Aedyn whispers as he lies on his bed and falls asleep.
6

"You and your partner will be pitted against another pair," Selenia explains, her stern voice carrying across the practice yard. "The object of this lesson is not to be the person who wins the fight for your team. We are here to learn about teamwork. So, I don't want to see any showboating or hear any arguments during this drill. I expect to see partners support and play off each other in order to utilize joint maneuvers. For some of you, this will be easy. For others, this will be very difficult." She turns to Kellia and Luke. "Then, there are the two of you."

"We understand," they reply.

The headmistress tries to soften her voice as she says, "I know you've barely been with us, Luke, and I'm throwing you into something advanced, but it's unfair to everyone else if I slow the class for a single person. So, I suggest you learn and adapt quickly. With that in mind, you will be working against a team of equal skill and sync. Roland and Kira! You two are sparring with the troublemakers. Everyone go to your sparring areas!"

Luke and Kellia refuse to look at each other as they walk to where their opponents are waiting. Their fighting area is marked by four dark blue rocks that emanate dim light beams to create a square boundary. Stretching and warming up, Luke sizes up his partner and opponents to get a feel for what they might be capable of. Kellia stays a few steps behind him, making it obvious that she is unhappy about being his partner. Ignoring her, the half-elf focuses on the odd pairing in front of him. Roland towers above the other students and his arms are as thick as logs. His bald head and stud earrings make him look slightly comical to the forest tracker. Kira, on the other hand, is slender and timidly stands near the edge of the sparring area.

Luke stops at the border to collect his thoughts, sighing at the growl from Kellia. He is disappointed in being partnered with her, but being pitted against Roland and Kira could not be more perfect. Both of them are on his list of possible heirs and he is sure they came from nobility from how they carry themselves. Kira is his top choice because her file states she moved to Gods' Voice only a month before attending the academy and she is entirely out of place in an academy of warriors. On the other hand, Luke silent admits that her ineptness may be an act and she could be something else. After all, the brown-skinned girl lacks the accent he expects from the heir, but she could have learned to hide it.

A cunning plan forms in his mind on how he can use the match to learn more about his classmates. It is a loose, sensible plan as long as he avoids getting knocked out by the enormous Roland. Luke steps into the sparring area and adopts his most comfortable fighting stance, knowing he looks ridiculous due to his lack of weapons. Ignoring a few chuckles, the half-elf has all of his attention on the larger boy, who takes a long stride toward him.

"I was hoping for this," Roland announces in a bellowing voice. "A Callindor is a true test of my skill. I am honored for this opportunity."

"Shut up and put up," Kellia snaps, jumping over the border.

Without warning, she grabs Luke by his wrists and wields the half-elf like an unwilling mace. He is unable to do anything beyond cursing until he gets his bearings. To his surprise, Roland gracefully ducks the attack and tackles Kellia at her knees, driving her to the ground. Luke lands next to them as the two brawlers attempt to lock various wrestling holds on each other.

"Guess she never heard of teamwork," the half-elf mutters, rolling to his feet. He turns in time to catch a foot swinging at his head. Pushing the leg away, he takes a step back and lets Kira regain her balance.

The raven-haired girl hops for a bit to steady herself. "I told him that wouldn't work. I don't suppose you could turn around again and give me another shot. Please?"

Luke shakes his head and throws a slow punch at her, hoping to scare her. Overreacting to his fist, Kira leans away from his fist and topples backwards. She rolls onto her stomach and tries to clumsily sweep the half-elf's legs out from under him. She misses when Luke hops back, but she gains until space to scramble to her feet. She repeatedly attacks the half-elf, using a different type of kick each time, but he continuously steps out of her reach. A few of her kicks come in faster than the forest tracker expects, forcing him to work a little harder to get out of the way. He backs up until he gets within reach of Roland, who has Kellia pinned to the ground. As soon as Kira unleashes a wide crosskick, Luke yanks his bigger classmate up by the belt.

"Nice try!" the muscular student laughs. He lifts Kellia to use for his own shield, the kick sending her crashing to the ground. Within seconds, she is joined by Luke when he is grabbed by his face and slammed next to her.

"You idiot! Stop interfering!" Kellia hisses under her breath as she drags herself back to her feet.

"We have to use teamwork," the half-elf angrily whispers, grabbing her by the shoulder. "So shut up and work with me. I'm tired of getting beaten up every day."

Kellia smacks his hand away, but he can tell that she begrudgingly agrees with him. They charge at Roland, quickly dodging his fast and accurate punches. When they bait him into making a very wide swing, his own strength and momentum twists him off-balance. The smaller warriors take the opportunity to dart past him, Kellia spinning around and leaping onto his larger classmate's back. She grabs both his arms, pulling back with all her strength and grinding her knee into his shoulders. She holds on as he pitches himself backwards, attempting to smash her into the dirt. The impact jolts Kellia's entire body, but she retains her grip and braces her knees against his spine. With a loud grunt, she lifts the large boy into the air where he helplessly kicks and flails.

While Kellia handles Roland, Luke keeps racing towards Kira, but the clumsy girl continuously stumbles out of his way. He follows up with a soft punch to the side of her head, which misses after she trips backwards. They continue like this with Kira dodging Luke, as if by accident, and the half-elf easily blocking her kicks. If he was not sure before, now he is certain his classmate is more than what she seems. He risks a look at Kellia as Roland angrily calls out for help. The brown-skinned girl moves to run over to her partner, which gives him an opening to lunge. He rushes past her, grabbing the collar of her shirt and trying to throw her down. The abrupt tearing of cloth is a nerve-wracking explosion of sound, catching everyone's attention. Luke skids to a stop a few yards away from Kira, realizing in horror that he is holding her ruined shirt.

Without looking back, the half-elf yells, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I'm really sorry!"

"I can't believe you! How could you embarrass me like this?" Kira screeches with tears trickling down her face. She frantically tries to cover herself with her hands, accidentally bringing more attention to herself. "What kind of man are you that you would rip my top off? You are in so much trouble, Luke Callindor!"

Selenia walks over to take the torn shirt out of the forest tracker's numb, frozen hands. Holding it up for an inspection, she sees that it is ripped down the front and every button is missing. She looks closer at the shirt, an angry expression flickering across her face. The headmistress shakes her head and pats Luke on the shoulder, giving a chilling glare to everyone else. All of the students return to their practice while Kira hides behind Kellia, who makes sure to keep her covered.

"You have my apologies, Kira," Selenia says with a frustrated sigh. "This shirt was poorly made and we missed the flaws during inspection. The buttons on this shirt were not sewn on correctly, so it was a matter of time before they popped off. It happens from time to time when you order bulk supplies. We will give you a new shirt by the end of the day. In the meantime, Kellia will escort you back to Bloodfae dormitory. You have permission to use your regular attire for the rest of the day. Is that acceptable?"

"No!" Kira screams through her tears. "I want something done to Luke! He embarrassed me! Can't you punish him? He didn't even use a real move. He grabbed my shirt like it was a fight between children."

"These things happen and he looks almost as mortified as you. Go make yourself decent. Luke and Roland will spar for the rest of the class."

Muttering her complaints, the embarrassed girl clings to Kellia as they walk toward the Bloodfae dorm. Luke makes sure not to look at her as she passes by, but he puts his arm out to stop them. Kira shrinks away, relaxing slightly when his steady hand lands on her protector's shoulder.

"Let me make it easier for you," the half-elf requests, taking his shirt off. "Bad shirt or not, this is my fault, so please use my shirt to get back to the dorm with your dignity intact. It might be a little big, but it will cover you."

He holds the shirt up for Kira to walk into, but it takes her a few seconds to gather enough courage to step away from Kellia. An awkward silence comes over them when they notice the shirt is backwards. She tries to put her arms through the sleeves, but the shirt nearly slips to the ground, the nervous girl defensively folding her arms across her chest. Luke wraps his arms around her to keep the shirt in place while he buttons the shirt as quickly as possible. Through the shirt, the half-elf feels her hands on his stomach, causing him to tense up. Once he is done, he turns the shirt around her, allowing Kira to slip her arms through the sleeves.

"Thanks. I guess. You still should be punished though," she mutters with a few, meek sniffles. "I'll give the shirt back tomorrow before the run. I still don't like you. Seriously, you and I won't get along until you pay for this. Don't think this is finished, Luke."

Kira is lead away from the class and Luke swears he hears the bronze-skinned girl mumble, "This shirt is warm, but sweaty and smells bad."

"Well, that was awkward," the forest tracker mutters under his breath. He turns around to find a blur coming at his face, giving him enough time to roll his eyes and wonder why he keeps walking into attacks. The solid fist strikes the side of his head, sending the half-elf tumbling a few feet away. Roland storms over to Luke and yanks him to his feet by his elbows.

"Selenia might not punish you, Callindor, but I will! What you did to Kira was rude and insulting! I will defend her honor by wiping the courtyard clean with your face. Have at you!"

The half-elf nimbly dodges a high body tackle, darting and spinning to get behind his opponent. "Wait a second! It was an accident! Besides, I gave Kira my shirt to cover up. Doesn't that count for something? And who in the world says 'have at you' any more? This is a fistfight, not a duel."

Roland reaches for his sparring partner, but Luke kicks him in the knee and knocks him down. The half-elf is almost out of reach when his opponent grabs his foot and rolls over. The action spins him onto his stomach as the larger student wrenches his ankle, threatening to dislocate the joint. Bracing his hands against the ground, the forest tracker shoves back to loosen Roland's grip. Using the force of his push, Luke twists his foot free as he stands on his opponent's chest, driving him to the trampled dirt. His classmate roars, throwing his opponent off and scrambling to his feet. The half-elf launches himself at Roland, causing the boys to crash to the ground in a heap.

Luke rolls away and slowly rises to his feet, carefully eyeing the larger student. The noble action and chivalrous attitude has put him at the top of the young warrior's potential heir list. He is so focused on the possibility that he has found his charge that he nearly forgets he is in a match. Roland's charge is fast and his clasped hands come down like a savage club, denting the soft ground where Luke once stood. The brutal attack is a maneuver he finds out of place in a martial arts class. In fact, he is now sure he has seen this fighting style before.

"Stand still, so I can smash you, Callindor!"

"Again, I gave her my shirt! Doesn't that count for something?!"

Roland dives for the nimble half-elf, skidding across the grass and rolling to his feet. "That is another mark against you. Showing off your body to a delicate flower such as Kira is a serious offense. Did you think she would feel more at ease if she saw your bare chest? Your simple gesture only increased her embarrassment. You never think of the consequences of your actions, Callindor, so I will teach you that lesson."

Luke stands his ground, continuing to argue with the larger boy. "I gave her my shirt because I didn't want her to be seen by anyone else. Besides, I'm a guy. Who cares if I have my shirt off? I happen to think that I look good without a shirt." He swiftly deflects his opponent's punch and dances out of reach. "Shouldn't you be ashamed of yourself? I remember you getting an eyeful of her. If anything, you should be punished because I had the decency to avert my gaze."

"How dare you insult my honor?!" Roland shouts. He lunges at Luke, but the half-elf leaps onto his head and runs down his back. The enraged student is still turning around as the smaller fighter rapidly kicks the back of his knees like a lumberjack hewing a massive tree. The bigger boy falls backwards into a fierce elbow, the blow landing between his shoulder blades. Roland is sent flailing forward, landing nose first in the dirt.

"That hurt you freaking jerk! Dammit! That was a freaking nice move, but that really freaking hurt!" Roland declares in a sudden change of speech. "I can't believe you aren't pulling your freaking punches. You are one sick, freaking bastard, Luke!"

The half-elf cautiously approaches his classmate, confused by the abrupt change of tone and demeanor. "You sound like a common street fighter. What happened to the proper speech and good dialect? Are you trying to be something you're not, Roland? Until now, I took you for a noble with a talent for fighting."

"I'll show you street fighting."

Roland catches Luke by the leg and lifts him onto his shoulders. The next thing the half-elf knows, he is getting spun around and driven headfirst into the ground. He lays on his back watching the clouds twirl across the sky while three hazy Rolands stand over him.

"That's what you get for messing with Roland Gauntlier. Better luck next time, Callindor. I hope you learned your lesson."

Luke watches his classmate walk to the rest of the class, sadly noticing that nobody makes a move to check on him. He remains on the ground, letting the dancing lights of his addled brain dance across his vision. Aside from the dull pain coursing through his mind and body, the entire incident is a big step toward completing his mission. The larger student is officially off the heir list now that Luke knows who he is. Thinking back, he should have figured it out sooner since his father used to make weights for Roland's father, a famous arena brawler who was the Gaian champion ten years ago. Along with a payment of gold, the Callindors were invited to some of the fights where they sat near the ring with the nobles and trainers.

The real mystery before him is Kira. Luke cannot put his finger on what is off about her behavior. Her brown skin and black hair mark her as being from the southern deserts, but she supposedly came from Gods' Voice. Even more confusing is that she acts more like a spoiled northern noble than the hardened southern nobles. He guesses it is possible that the Duke went so far as to magically transform his heir to look like a southern girl.

Then there is how Kira fought during the match. At first, Luke could not understand why Selenia would invite the clumsy, whining girl into the martial arts class. It took him a few exchanges with her to notice that she knew how to fight. Every stumble brought her out of his reach, but she was never so far away that a kick with her long legs was impossible. A nervous shiver runs up Luke's spine when he considers that she has been holding back and testing his abilities. Instead of the heir, Kira could be the assassin using the cover of an inexperienced first year student. Through the searing pain in his temples, the half-elf wonders if he can bring himself to fight a female assassin.

"That girl is going to be a problem."

*****

"This is ridiculous! If we pass this moldy tree one more time, I'm going to bury you under it," Fritz complains with an exaggerated point of his finger toward Nimby. "Can you remind me why we're wandering around Visindor anyway? That boy could have gone anywhere since it took us fifteen minutes to pack supplies and get out of the academy. For all we know, he went in the opposite direction we're going. Do you realize that Selenia will have our heads if we miss our afternoon classes? I will remind you for the third time that you promised we wouldn't get lost."

"Guess I'm not a good tracker."

The gnome takes a seat on a stump and rubs his eyes. "You aren't a tracker at all. All you saw was Leslie sneak out of the academy and into the forest. He doesn't have classes today, so maybe he wanted some fresh air. Why did I agree to help you with this? I'm old enough to know better than to listen to a halfling or a thief much less the two of them combined."

"If Leslie is the heir then we need to find him because he could be in danger," Nimby argues as he turns in a circle to see if he can discern their location. "I think we have the time to search for another hour. We can't be that lost since the river is nearby. Can't you hear the water?"

Fritz groans and follows Nimby into a berry-dotted thicket. He silently watches the back of the halfling as they push through the shoulder-high bushes. The gnome's mind wanders to the day when he first met the carpentry teacher at the fountain. Being the only short-statured instructors, their daily meetings grew into a strange friendship. A warm smile crosses his face as he remembers the times they got into trouble with Selenia over his experiments or Nimby's stealing. Fritz knew that behind the snatching hands and rapid voice, his friend would never steer him wrong without joining in the blame. It would not surprise him to learn that Luke already thought the same of the halfling. He makes a mental note to ask the young warrior why he befriended Nimby instead of someone more openly honest and less trouble.

Fritz's thoughts are cut short when they reach the river, his mouth dropping open in shock and anger. The river is churning and swirling, but it is putrid and dark green. The smell of rotten fish fills the air every time the foul water laps at the shore. Bloated leeches wriggle around in the mire and the few fish that can be seen have bulbous, film-covered eyes. Stranger still are the healthy oaks and maples growing along the opposite shoreline, blocking their view of what they can hear is a swamp.

"You . . . you idiot!" Fritz exclaims, smacking his friend on the shoulder. "This is the Caster Swamp! We shouldn't be anywhere near the Caster Swamp! Damn it!"

"We aren't in the swamp and now we know approximately where we are. So we can easily make straight for the academy," Nimby says, turning in the direction of the school. "This is an adventure, Fritz. We can get some good stories out of this. Uh, why are you staring at me like that? Take it easy for now."

The gnome growls and takes a step toward Nimby, causing the halfling to bolt away from the swamp. Fritz casts a speed spell on himself and barrels after his fleet-footed friend. He chases his friend far into Visindor, eventually tackling him through a cluster of thick bushes. The force of the impact sends them tumbling down a hill and bouncing off a spongy mat of moss. They land in the middle of a wide, cold stream, jolting the fatigue out of their muscles. It takes a few minutes of panicky scrambling and splashing to drag themselves onto the muddy shore. The pair collapse and sputter for air, entirely unaware of two figures watching them from the other side of the stream.

"You dead?" the gnome grunts, giving a small shove to the halfling.

"That water was very cold," Nimby whispers, getting to his feet and checking his pockets. "At least we know where we are now are. The academy is less than an hour away as long as we follow this stream. Hey, Fritz, I feel like we're being watched."

"We are being watched."

Across the stream is a scrawny, young man with brown hair and the clothes of an academy student. He looks to be in shock as he stares at the teachers, who crashed into the peaceful river. More shocked, however, is the beautiful figure standing with him. A slender woman with light blue skin and watery hair tries to hide from view, cowering behind the boy. She is naked except for a thong made entirely out of smooth, black stones. When the two instructors wave, she makes a startled noise that sounds more like a gargle than a yelp.

"What are you doing here without permission, Leslie?" Nimby asks, trying to sound authoritative.

"More importantly, what are you doing with a river nymph?" Fritz interjects before the boy can answer the halfling. "You know the rules about . . . never mind. I don't think Selenia has any rules preventing this type of thing. Ignore my attempt at pointless authority. Care to explain yourself anyway?"

"I am deeply sorry, Professor Warrenberg," Leslie replies, struggling to shield the river nymph from view. "I've been sneaking out to the river since my first day at academy. I'm not used to such a lack of privacy and was uncomfortable, so I come to this place for private solace. On my second day, I came across Giriana unconscious by the stream. A bear had attacked her when she was in her fish form and I nursed her back to health. Since then I visit her every chance I get. You won't tell Ms. Hamilton about this, will you?"

Nimby rolls his eyes in boredom and impatience. "What do we care? River nymphs are a confusing and fickle lot. Selenia would probably want to talk to you and let you know about the dangers. Geez. A nymph addict."

"I'm not an addict!"

"Yes you are!" the halfling shouts, a surge of rage roiling in his chest. "That's the only reason a land-dweller would spend so much time with a water-based creature. I mean, it doesn't make any sense and nothing good can come from it."

"Experience, old friend?"

"This is neither the time nor the place."

Fritz pats his friend on the shoulder and flashes a friendly smile at Giriana. "While I must agree with Nimby that human and nymph relations are frustrating at best and disastrous at worse, I disagree with some of his statements. River nymphs bond for life and it appears this one has bonded with you, Leslie. It's a very delicate situation that we've discovered and, out of pure decency and respect, we won't get involved. It would be wrong for us to reveal this to Selenia and harm your young love. Though, I'm unsure why you want to keep it secret from a woman who is a product of interracial breeding."

"Because she might tell my father that I'm in love with a river nymph," Leslie sheepishly replies.

"It isn't like he'll be angry," Nimby sarcastically states, ignoring the warning stare from his friend. "It isn't something a human father wants to hear from his son. Best to end it now and save yourself the pain."

"There's more to it than that," the student argues with a panic in his voice. He steps toward the stream, but the river nymph tugs on his sleeve to draw him back. "My father has already chosen my wife, who I have never met. I convinced him to send me to this academy without telling him I was hoping to find a warrior woman to marry. I'm frail and get sick easily, so it would make more sense for my bride to be a strong woman instead of a pampered one. Giriana is strong, sweet, and everything I would ever want in a wife. I need to figure out a way to convince my father of our union. So, please keep this a secret, sirs."

Fritz turns away as if considering Leslie's request, but he is really pondering the words of the boy. A father with a desire to have a controlled bloodline is a sure sign of royalty. Arranged marriages are one of the oldest traditions of Windemere, found in the history of almost every noble family that can be traced back to before the Great Cataclysm. The only exception to the rule is the Solomon lineage, which is a fact that nags at the gnome. The chance of two royal heirs attending the academy at the same time, while not impossible, was doubtful. It is possible that the current Duke is breaking tradition because his heir is too frail and meek to choose a worthy bride. The confusing uncertainty frustrates the gnome, who has spent a lifetime turning dreams into reality.

"We have to get back for our classes," Nimby announces, preventing Fritz from speaking his mind. "Come back to the academy an hour after us, Leslie. That way people don't think we met out here. It will be like this never happened. I promise." Without waiting for a response, the halfling turns away and walks back to the academy.

"Thank you, sirs! Giriana says thank you too!"

Fritz trails behind his friend until they are far away from Leslie and the river nymph. He jogs to get next to Nimby and talk, but the halfling's emotionless face causes him to hold his tongue. It is a mask of someone who has remembered something they wish to forget, so Fritz passes the time enjoying the scenery. They reach the edge of the academy's killing field where Nimby flops to the ground and watches the clouds. The gnome pulls out his clay pipe, filling the air with smoke rings.

"We have half an hour before we have to get to our classes," Fritz causally points out. "So, what's on your mind, young friend?"

"I thought we were on to something with Leslie," Nimby says with a disappointed sigh. He pulls a blade of grass to chew on, the long strand flicking randomly with every movement. "I was hoping this mystery would be solved and I would be the one to do it. Instead, we uncovered a secret love affair between a noble's kid and a watery harlot. I feel so useless! I'm supposed to be good at information gathering. So far I haven't been able to gather anything useful. Unless I feel like blackmailing that kid, which I won't do, in case you were wondering. I may be a thief, but I have standards when it comes to crimes that I'm willing to commit."

Fritz pegs the halfling in the ear with a puff of tart smoke. "Pardon the terminology, but you're selling yourself short, Nimby. You're the one who brought Luke the files to help narrow the list of possible heirs down to a handful. Imagine what it would be like if he had to blindly search the entire student body. Also, you're the one who brought me and Aedyn into this. If you ask me, you've helped our young friend a lot. Consider yourself the expediter instead of the information gatherer."

"Nice try using big words to make me feel better. Those are still small accomplishments compared to everything else," the halfling counters, gracefully flipping to his feet. "As a thief, I want the big haul and not be responsible for the minor things. I swear I'll be the one to find out who the heir is. Besides, Luke keeps going to the infirmary, so somebody has to put most of their time on this. Otherwise, it'll never get done."

"How do you plan on finding the heir with your head hung low?"

"Oh. I may be depressed now, but give me a few apples and hours. Then I'll be back to my old self. This old halfling has some tricks up his sleeves."

"You're only twenty."

"You know what I mean."

"Not really."

"You really know how to ruin a great moment," the halfling grumbles, kicking the gnome's foot. "Let's get some food before classes."

Fritz wraps an arm around his friend's shoulders as they cross the killing field. "Nimby, my friend, that is a plan I'm more than willing to follow."

*****

Even though it is late at night and no candles have been lit, Aedyn's room is filled with the light his body is emitting during his prayers. The priest sits on his bed, his legs tucked under his body and his arms crossed with his hands on his shoulders. His breathing is barely noticeable as he focuses on his silent prayers. This peaceful atmosphere and blazing light do not make the room look any neater. Scrolls and books remain scattered across every surface while a narrow path to the door has been cleared. As his voice grows deeper, a soft wind rustles the papers and moves them into neat stacks on the floor. An unseen force closes any books that have been left open and corks an open inkwell that is sitting on the edge of Aedyn's desk. The spell abruptly stops when the priest is jolted from his trance by an insistent knocking on the door.

"Be with you in a minute," he says in a barely audible voice. Sliding off the bed, he stretches his legs and his glowing aura disappears. He grumbles in Elven as he opens his sun urn and walks to the door. "It is very late. So, I hope you have an urgent reason to ignore curfew by coming to see me."

Aedyn takes a deep breath and thinks of an attack spell before opening the door. Standing in front of him is a boy, who is wringing his hands and nervously looking around the hallway. He cautiously steps into the room once the priest gestures for him to enter, the priest gently closing the door. The boy looks terrified as he huddles near the door. He pulls out a sun-shaped medallion from beneath his shirt, clutching it to his chest to calm down.

"Samuel," Aedyn says, clearing papers off a chair. He sits on the bed and pats the chair for the boy to sit down. "I did not expect to see you break a rule like curfew."

"I had a nightmare. A very bad one, sir," the boy whispers, curling up on the chair and hugging his knees. "I felt it was more than a dream and I should talk to you about it."

"It was probably nothing more than a vivid nightmare. I have come to realize that visions are not as common as people believe." The priest pauses when Samuel lets out a sob. "Still . . . as a sun priest, I cannot turn my back on someone asking for help. Tell me what your dream was and maybe we can decipher it. That is if it has any meaning. I make no promises that it will mean anything."

The nervous boy takes a deep breath, finally looking Aedyn in the eye. Samuel's blue eyes are red from crying with mysterious black spots dotting his pupils. "The dream started with me back in Gods' Voice with my family. We were at our home and my father was reading religious texts as usual. While he is not a priest, he has always believed in their words. That is why we live in Gods' Voice and why my dreams always have a . . . divine sense to them. I'm sorry for rambling, sir."

"You are doing fine. Please go on, Samuel."

"Something was strange about this dream. The writings my father was reading were those of Lorvis the Dead Lord, Yola Biggs the Exiled Goddess, and Skragor the Destroyer. These writings caused me to cry and leave my house where I heard screaming from all around me. People were dying in the streets as undead flooded the city. I tried to escape when this red-eyed shadow dragged me into a dark abyss. After that I was no longer in my dream. I could only watch from the top of a building as Gods' Voice was destroyed. From my perch, I saw the remains of six warriors held in bone coffins. The undead ripped off chunks of their bodies and hurled the pieces into the rubble. The feeling I had at this point was that of victory instead of the fear I started with."

"Interesting," Aedyn murmurs, his face stoic, but slightly pale.

"Can you please explain it?"

"It is not an easy dream to decipher due to it being so specific. It could simply mean that you fear what will happen to your family since you are so far away. Many new students are scared they will return to find their childhood home destroyed," the priest explains. He picks up his staff and lays it across his lap, tapping his finger on the hard wood. "Yet, I feel that would be too simple an answer for such a dream. Unfortunately, I am not very skilled in dream reading. From your final emotion of victory, I would guess you are looking to sever ties with your past life and the urge to do so is increasing. You are on your own path and you worry about ties to your past that prevent you from moving ahead. From the theme of violence and destruction in your dream, you may require drastic measures to defeat your obstacles."

"What about the three gods?" the student asks, shifting uncomfortably on the chair. "Maybe it is a vision sent by one or all of them."

Aedyn rubs his chin in thought as he thinks of the easiest way to explain the complicated information. "I am relatively sure that is not the case. Due to her random nature, I do not believe Yola Biggs would send a vision so detailed and comprehensive. There is also the issue of her being a hunted goddess who has been in hiding for centuries. Giving a vision to anyone would run the risk of being found. So, Yola Biggs is certainly not involved."

"So it is either Lorvis or Skragor," Samuel nervously interrupts.

"They are more likely, but I have doubts about their involvement," the priest replies, giving the youth a comforting smile that seems to glow at the corners. "You had undead in your dream, so Lorvis would have to be seen or mentioned since he is the God of Necrocasting. I have been told by his priests that to use undead in visions, a god must ask his permission or risk being asked for a payment. It does not mean he had anything to do with the dream since Lorvis typically ignores those who do not practice his art. As for Skragor, he is the God of Disasters. What you saw was a disaster, but the Ravager does not use dream visions. He uses waking hallucinations and he never shares visions with other gods. Your mind might have added him to the dream as a false rationalization. Those are the only translations I can discern from your description."

Aedyn can tell that the boy is very dissatisfied with his answers from the way he stares at his feet. Whatever the student wants to say gets stuck in his throat as he quietly sits on the chair. When several minutes have gone by, Samuel pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket to fiddle with, but he remains silent. The paper gets torn on a crease, which the student ignores, tucking it back into his pocket.

"I am sorry that I did not say what you wanted to hear, but there are many things I have yet to learn about dream reading," the priest says, hoping to put his anxious guest at ease. "If you want, I can write a record of your dream and send it to my temple for analysis. Durag's order has members who are capable of the detailed reading you are requesting of me. Would that be acceptable?"

"No thank you, sir," Samuel replies, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I wouldn't want to trouble them. And by the time it gets there, I might not care to kno . . . there is something in the dream that I forgot to mention."

"What would that be?"

The boy hands Aedyn another piece of paper with six symbols written on it, the ink still damp and smelling of sweet licorice. The priest masterfully hides his shock and concern as he stares at the carefully made drawings. Each of the symbols is drawn with such obvious care and precision that he has trouble believing Samuel made them. The boy was too shaken and upset to have done the drawings without smearing them or giving them shaky borders. Yet, they are pristine and flawless, almost masterful in their creation. The half-elf tucks the paper into a nearby notebook, his thoughts focused more on the drawings than the young man patiently waiting for him to speak.

After several minutes, the curious half-elf whispers, "Crossed swords, a fiery burst, a pair of cuddling doves, ragged claw marks, a round shield, and a glowing doorway."

"They were in the sky throughout the entire dream," Samuel interrupts, startling the priest out of his thoughts. "Are they important?"

"Yes. More than you are allowed to know," Aedyn replies before he can stop himself. He smiles warmly at the youth and folds his hands in his lap. "I have a question of my own. Forgive me if it is strange. You do not happen to be the heir of Duke Solomon?"

"No, sir, my father is a bard. He is Lukarius Damas of the Heavenly Medley performing group."

"My apologies. I do not know why the question came to my mind. I have met the Duke and you look nothing like him. No offense to your appearance."

"Are you feeling sick, sir? You're sweating a lot."

"I am fine. Take care of yourself and do not worry about your dream. I will make sure the right people hear of it," Aedyn assures him, flicking his hand and muttering a spell to open the door for Samuel. "Goodnight, young sir."

The half-elf gently closes the door and prepares to meditate some more when he notices an unfamiliar piece of paper on the chair. He realizes it is the one Samuel was tampering with during his minutes of silence. The priest assumes it had fallen out when the boy pulled the other piece of paper from his pocket. As Aedyn picks it up, he is aware of the quiet shadows that have begun enveloping his room. It is as if sound and light are holding their breath in anticipation. His mind is so busy grappling with the discovery of the six symbols that he nearly misses an important fact. He grabs the symbol page to make certain he is not mistaken, ignoring the book that falls on his toes.

"So, Samuel drew these symbols and feigned terror, but this note he left on the chair is not his handwriting. Somebody with neater pen strokes told him about the dream. It also tells him to come to me and . . . I smell pepper. He was given pepper to throw in his eyes for the redness and the tears. It was not his dream after all. I cannot force him to reveal the source no matter how much it would help me and, quite possibly, Luke's mission. Durag would revoke his light to me if I forced such an issue of trust in a youth like Samuel. Besides, I have my own problem to deal with. I should tell Luke about this dream, but that could distract him from the mission at hand. I need help, but calling for aid will bring unnecessary attention to me and make people think I am weak. If that happens then I might never get another assignment from the order."

Aedyn wanders around his room for several minutes, snapping his fingers when he comes up with a plan. "I do know of one person who I can contact in emergencies. It might take weeks or even months for this message to reach him, but I must try."

He writes a quick note of his own and folds it over the letter to Samuel and the picture of the symbols. Aedyn places the three pages on his bed while chanting in a strange combination of Elven, Dwarven, and one of the lost human languages. A thick beam of light appears on the bed and the papers float into the air, sticking to the ceiling. With a final word, the light harmlessly passes through the ceiling, whisking the papers to wherever it is Aedyn has sent them.

"This will remain my secret until I meet with the recipient," the priest says with a sense of relief and sadness. "Such is the nature of the path I have chosen. My life will always be spent holding secrets and waiting for future meetings."

Feeling tired and drained, the priest writes down some notes about the dream, planning to read them in the morning. Hoping to put his racing mind at ease, he touches his sun urn and whispers a soft prayer to his god.

"Brightest Durag, I have seen the symbols of the great prophecy. It is such a vague vision that I cannot explain it with clarity. By my own vows, I must keep this information within my order. I will continue to follow the path of secrets. The players in coming events, which you have guided me to, will not fall unless I have lost my power and pulse. You have my holy promise that I will protect them."
7

Luke nearly passes Selenia during the morning run, but he jumps over a log and hits his throat against a low branch. He spends a few seconds gasping and hacking on the ground, knowing she has gained too much distance for him to catch up to her. He feels a strange sense of pride for not attempting to chase her and exhausting himself like he has done every other morning. Not that he will tell her, but Selenia has finally drilled into him that he will always lose some battles and pursuing them after defeat only wastes his energy. Luke has put his own twists on the advice, deciding to look at this loss as an opportunity to relax and enjoy one of the few times he can be among the trees. Being alone is a luxury in the academy and it is only recently that he realized the run is his key to privacy. Long ago, the other students decided he was not worth trying to race, so he no longer hears the panting and cursing of his classmates trying to keep up.

This morning the only noises are of the waking forest and the occasional bark from Stiletto, who he released into the forest for some exercise before the run began. The dog is nowhere to be seen, but Luke can hear him galloping off to his right where he had seen a few rabbits. A sharp whistle calls Stiletto to him, the dog tackling the half-elf and covering his face in slobber. He wrestles his friend off and cleans his face on the dog's well-groomed fur. After giving the noble shepherd a long-awaited belly rub, the forest tracker gets up and jogs through the forest, his steps soft and silent.

Stiletto lags behind, hoping to delay his return to the academy stables. He has been pampered for days and gets to run around the killing field with the greyhounds, which are now his loyal pack. Still, the big dog rarely sees Luke for more than a few minutes and they never get to play like they used to. Once the half-elf noticed that his friend was becoming lethargic and lazy, he asked Selenia for permission to include Stiletto in the morning run. Having never met the noble shepherd, the headmistress tried to deny the request. It was when Nimby, Fritz, and, surprisingly, Kevin sided with Luke that she agreed to his inclusion. Since then, Stiletto effortlessly leaves the two half-elves in his dust before getting distracted and going off on his own. Only Kevin knows how nervous Selenia has been that the dog will be the first living thing to best her in the run.

The forest becomes very quiet as Luke and Stiletto reach the edge of the killing field. It is not an evil sensation that envelops Visindor, but a veil of silent awe that even the wind and water conform to. Stiletto sniffs at the air and bows his head to the ground as if he is standing before a king. Unnerved by his own senses, Luke hides in the shadow of an oak, scanning the area for any sign of movement. The dog stays among the trees as the half-elf cautiously walks into the open field, his heart beating hard in his chest. The young warrior can hear his friend barking for him to return, but he continues, hoping to get a clearer view of the academy. Nobody is waiting at the front gate and there is no movement on the walls. Luke glances back to see Stiletto lying on the ground, covering his ears with his front paws.

"I really don't like this," the half-elf whispers as he gets halfway to the gate. "This is eerie."

The sound of leather wings is faint at first, but it rapidly grows louder as whips of wind knock the young warrior off his feet. Luke rolls onto his back in time to see an enormous shape rise from behind the wall of trees where Stiletto is still cowering. Simply the sight of the creature makes his senses go numb. Four leaf-like wings connect to a slender, green-scaled body that twists and undulates in the air. He stares at the beast's elongated, reptilian head and the tangle of vine-like hair that falls over its face. The beginning of a thin beard is at the end of its pointy chin, the hair a deep black. A warm, drenching rain falls from its wings with every powerful flap, soaking the trees and grass. The half-elf stays on his back, unable to move as the Darkvawn Dragon flies low and gently smacks its powerful tail against the ground next to him.

"Too close. Way too close," Luke gasps, putting his hand on his chest to feel his thrumming heartbeat. To his surprise, the dragon lands in the center courtyard of the academy and he can see a small form sitting on its back.

Luke scrambles to his feet and sprints as fast as he can to the academy. He can hear Stiletto following, the dog stopping at the front gates and stubbornly refusing to enter. As if to justify his friend's fear, the young warrior hears a low hissing noise from the majestic creature. He pats his friend on the head and he goes on without the noble shepherd.

The dragon curls around the central fountain while a middle-aged man gracefully slides off its back. The bald man has steel blue eyes that take in everything around him. Luke's attention is drawn to his white silk shirt with polished silver buttons and his blue vest, embroidered with crimson dragons running from his shoulder to the bottom of his ribcage. A flowing cape of velvet trails behind the man, its magic keeping it away from the muddy ground. This impressive noble holds the half-elf's silent attention as he pats his unique steed on the foreleg.

"Excuse me, young man," the stranger says as he swiftly approaches the warrior. He takes off a leather glove to shake Luke's hand with enough force to jar the half-elf's shoulder. "Do you know where Ms. Hamilton can be found?"

"I have no idea. She was far ahead of me during the morning run. Besides, your dragon scared the sense out of me, so I probably wouldn't remember anyway," Luke replies with a sideways glance at the beast. It spits a little water at his feet and aims its head at the sky. The dragon lets loose with a torrent of warm water that rains down on the entire academy.

The noble grins as the water falls on their heads. "Calm down, Cyphon. The boy did not mean to upset you. He is young and I am sure you are the first dragon he has ever met."

In response, the green-scaled dragon makes a deep snort and goes back to staring over the academy walls. A low rumble from its chest gives Luke the impression that it is purring. The giant creature yawns and stretches its neck, reminding him more of a lazy cat than one of the most powerful beasts in the history of Windemere.

"Best not to insult or complain about Darkvawn Dragons," the well-dressed man says while patting his steed on the snout. "They know every language that has ever been spoken or written. Sadly, Cyphon was injured and lost his voice, so I have been his voice since we met. An interesting tale to be told, I assure you. Anyway, we are both very sorry about startling you. I did not realize you were there until we were almost on top of you. Oh my, I forgot my manners. My name is Daniel Skyblade of Gaia."

Unable to stop himself, the forest tracker stares at the stranger in child-like awe. "I've heard of you. You were one of the twelve warriors of the south who broke the ogre and undead alliance fifteen years ago. What are you doing here?"

"First of all, I would like to know your name. Calling you boy or young warrior will annoy you after a while," Daniel pleasantly admits, chuckling at the half-elf's enthusiasm. "Besides, it is very rude to not give your name to someone who has already done so. Then again, I might have an idea of what you are if not who. Going by the condition of your boots and that smell of nature, I assume you are a forest tracker. A young one at that, which would explain the lack of social grace and manners. Now, would you please tell me your name? Otherwise, I will be forced to make one up for you."

"His name doesn't matter, Daniel," cuts in a sharp, female voice from behind the noble. Selenia chuckles when the nobleman turns and offers her a pear, which she swipes and takes a large bite from. "I have an academy to run and would like to get your business over with. None of the students have seen anything remotely out of place. That is until you flew in on Cyphon, which will be all they talk about for the next few days. So, come to my office and we shall discuss all of this away from those that have no business listening."

"Very well, Selenia," he says, giving her a hug before she can stop him. "I see you have taken to sneaking up on old friends now. Still trying to give Kevin that heart attack? Ah, well. I guess we should be off and get this messy business over with. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young warrior."

Selenia nods to Luke as she leads Daniel toward the administrative building. They stop near the edge of the courtyard when the headmistress whispers something to the noble. He makes a wide swing with his right arm and ends with a finger snap, signaling the dragon to take flight. Another blast of water bathes the academy as Cyphon flies toward Visindor Forest. Luke turns away from the departing dragon in time to see Selenia smack Daniel upside the head and drag him toward her office by his nose.

"I really hate that arrogant bastard," whispers a cold hiss from a few feet above the young warrior's head.

Behind the young warrior is a young and attractive woman sitting on the bare back of a black horse. His attention is drawn to her brown-furred, feline tail and the short claws that extend and retract as she flexes her fingers. Already on edge, a look at her hazel eyes makes him take a cautious step back. They hold a flicker of anger that is aching for a reason to burst into a destructive flame of rage. The woman gives off an aura of aggression that reminds Luke of a hungry, but patient, predator.

"Who are you?" he asks, standing his ground as she coldly sizes him up.

The woman slips off her horse and pulls her brown tresses into a ponytail, revealing tufts of matching hair on the tips of her ears. "Theresa Marley. Selenia hired me to teach dagger fighting to her students. Can you tell me where the stables are?"

"Go behind those dorms and you will find it against the wall. My name is Luke Callindor and it's very nice to meet you," he says, offering a handshake. She lets her eyes run up and down his body in a predatory way, making him drop his hand. The half-elf has no time to react when she makes a quick movement with her right arm, the limb a blur. He reaches up to feel a thin cut across his cheek, his hand coming away with blood on the fingertips.

"Another famous name," Theresa growls, an icy chill to her voice. She smiles cruelly, revealing her sharp, porcelain teeth. "First, I see that cheating bastard of a noble then I find a hero in the making. I've done twice as much for this region than you will ever do and I've received nothing for it. No reputation, no fame, no rank, and no fortune. I'm sure that you have never heard of me before today. Meanwhile, you probably get attention because of your last name."

"It isn't like I enjoy the praise. I want to be considered a hero because of my own merit."

"A noble, but pointless desire. You will get the opportunity only because you were born famous," the calico contends, pulling out a dagger and running the flat side of it against her cream-colored skin. "There is little honor in traveling a path that has already been cleared for you."

"Why am I arguing with you?" Luke asks as he heads for the cafeteria. "You cut me because you have a chip on your shoulder. Leave me alone and torment someone else, lady. My time here has been bad enough without your help."

"Nice excuse to avoid a fight, kid," Theresa mockingly declares, her tail whipping through the air. "Not all of your enemies are going to be as nice as I am. Good luck not getting your ass kicked!"

Theresa grabs the reins of her horse, the animal playfully nuzzling her neck and whispering in her ear. The calico pushes her mount's head away and calmly makes her way to the stables. A wandering greyhound growls at her, the dog yelping and retreating when she kicks a stone at it. Her horse snickers at her and gently shoves her with its head.

"Don't get on my case. I know he's the one we have to watch, but I wanted to see how easy I could upset him. Our plan will fail if that boy's temper and pride puts him in our path. Keep your senses sharp and contact me if you find anything suspicious. The pay better be worth dealing with all the heroes and fakes around here. I don't even want to think about having to work under Selenia again. One of these days I'll tell that blowhard what I really think of her."

Theresa does not make a sound as she puts her horse in an empty stall and sneaks back to the entrance to scan the courtyard. She is startled by a bounding black form that knocks her aside as it enters one of the empty stalls. The calico tucks away the two knives held between her fingers when she sees Stiletto's head rise above the stall door. The large dog grumbles to her horse, who snorts in response and stomps its foot. Sneaking out one of the doors to the killing field, Theresa hears the students coming back from the run. Slinking around the wall, she gets to the far side of the academy and races into Visindor Forest and disappears.

*****

The melody of birdsong and insect chatter fills the deep interior of Visindor Forest. From a distance, the occasional howl of a wolf and snort of a wild boar join the wild chorus. A new sound appears in contrast to nature's orchestra as a western wind blows through the leafy branches. Starting out as a high-pitched whine from far above the forest, it steadily grows into the voice of a creature screaming in childish delight. A purple streak bursts through the canopy, causing the song of nature to stop. The only sign that something has happened is the severed branch of a young apple tree. Calmed by another breeze, a few mourning doves sing and, after a few seconds, the rest of the forest joins them.

"Fizzle love apples," the drite mumbles from a nearby maple tree. He hangs upside down by his tail, fluttering his translucent wings for balance. A small pile of shiny apples is on the thick branch and Fizzle pulls himself up his tail to grab one. The sounds of his chewing and lip smacking echo throughout the forest, his forked tongue lancing out to lick his lips.

"Ahhh. Apples hit spot. Wonder what Fizzle do now."

He rapidly flutters his wings as he lets go of the branch, his tail wrapping around a fresh apple. Chewing on the fruit, Fizzle darts above the canopy where the sun gives his purple scales a glossy shine. He casually hovers upside down, staring at the thick forest below. A squeal of joy escapes the tiny dragon's throat and he does a small flip in the air, zipping back into the trees.

Fizzle splashes into the middle of the calm water of a deep, isolated pool, his entrance startling a herd of thirsty deer. He lazily floats on his back while the animals leap away from the scary intrusion. The only remaining creature is a female centaur, whose longbow is slung across her broad back. Her arms are crossed to cover her chest, but she relaxes when she recognizes the drite. The centaur finishes her grooming as the tiny dragon splashes and swims around in the water. At one point, she gets hit in the face with a wave, causing her to sputter in surprise.

"Cut it out, Fizzle. I was enjoying some peace and quiet after my bath," the centaur says, standing to her full, ten-foot height. She bends to take a deep drink as the drite flits out of the water, landing on her warm back. "It's been very stressful around here. This region doesn't appear to be safe any more. Have you heard about the problems on the tree line?"

"News make Fizzle mad. Many aminals dead. Why you ask Fizzle?" he asks, puffing out small circles of rainbow mist from his nostrils. He launches into the air, landing in the cool water with another big splash. Fizzle uses his wings to weave along the pool's surface, the playful drite staring up at the trees.

The centaur uses her tail to whisk away the lingering mist rings. "First of all, the word you want to use is animals and they were not just dead. They were butchered and mutilated. I found a squirrel meticulously torn to shreds. A family of rabbits had their ears sewn together, Fizzle. That is disgusting and it isn't even the worst that I have found. I'm going to leave Visindor and report to the Herd. Then I will ask to be reassigned. I didn't agree to come here to deal with something this sick and twisted. What are you planning to do, Fizzle? You've been here longer than some of the trees."

"Fizzle stay. Fizzle defend home. Fizzle friends promise darkness go poof. Fizzle no scared. Fizzle have magic."

"Then, I wish you the best. Do not show these monsters any mercy if you find them."

The smiling centaur starts to trot away, stopping when a snapping twig gets her attention. She turns in the direction of the sound as low muttering flows into the area, the words traveling on a sickly breeze. Fizzle's wings stop fluttering and he sinks into the water, his scaly hide turning from purple to the color of the pool. The instant he disappears from sight, a streak of putrid, green magic erupts from the southern trees. It slams into the centaur's chest, knocking her against an old oak.

"Centaurs are such hideous creatures. They should never have been created by the gods," a deep voice growls as the woman screams in pain and writhes on the ground. The Hellfire Elf and the Lich walk into the clearing as the centaur's chest explodes in a sickening blast of gore. The demon angrily stomps on a piece of her heart, sneering at the remains.

The Lich stops at the edge of the pool, turning toward his servant. There is a flash of movement between them and the Hellfire Elf's head snaps to the side. Scraps of rotting flesh drip off the demon's face, a bony handprint fading from its cheek. The assassin's hand inches toward its sword, but it stops short of drawing the blade.

"You idiot!" the Lich yells in rage and frustration. "I summoned you to get the heir and you have simply gathered useless information while cowering. So far, I'm unimpressed with your performance and I'm tempted to recruit another assassin. Your masters in the Chaos Void will not be happy with your failure if I send you back. They prefer banishment or defeat in combat over being released from your contract. It would lead to your ultimate destruction if not worse."

The Hellfire Elf growls and draws the Chaoswind, pointing the weapon at the necrocaster even though it is useless against an evil being. The Lich calmly picks up a flower that dies in his palm, enraging the demon further. It unleashes a haunting scream of fury and makes a sweep with its serrated blade, sending a howling wind through the forest. The trees quiver in fear and a few of the older, wiser ones lean away from the furious demon. The Lich glares at the assassin, throwing down the dead flower and wiping his hands on his robes.

"You know nothing of the art of assassination, master. I must learn about my prey and all that might stand in the way," the Hellfire Elf argues, sheathing its sword. The creature growls and its armor appears to rustle like fur. "I now know there are times when the mercenary woman is nowhere to be found and will not be there to protect the heir. I need only wait for the heir to be alone during one of these this times. It is taking longer than I expected, but it will happen." The demon smirks as it adds, "I have also become aware of a new threat in the area. He is not a problem as of yet, but he could become one within the coming days."

The necrocaster cackles and hacks up a cloud of dust from his decaying lungs. "I guess you are a credit to your kind. Most would back down from me, but you refuse to take even the smallest step away. Still, I recommend you settle this job within the next two days. Otherwise, I will be forced to banish you in failure."

"You are asking me to risk exposure, which would make a second attempt more difficult if not impossible. Still I must obey my master even if I disagree."

"I'm sure you will find a way to do this without ruining your progress," the Lich assures his servant, taking another look at the Hellfire Elf's scowling face. "I will be lenient if you fail to take the heir as long as you kill that Callindor boy before escaping."

"I do not understand your concerns about that whelp," the demon admits as he scans the clearing for the source of a brief splashing sound. "He is stumbling around the academy in ignorance while we now know the heir's identity. I doubt he will be nearby when I strike. As I told you in my reports, he is not a threat."

The Lich grabs his servant by the collar of its spiked armor and whispers into the demon's pointed ear. "Never assume someone like him will be absent from your plans. The youth might stumble into your path when you least expect him. After all, that is how he got involved in our business in the first place."

"Then I will kill him."

"We still know very little about him," the necrocaster says, grinning at his servant's blunt declaration. "People like him are always up to something and they tend to know more than they let on. Being foolish around them leads to one's own demise. I order you to keep an eye on his actions and an arrow trained on his heart. We do not need some unexpected, fledgling hero getting in our way."

"Understood, master."

The Hellfire Elf peers into the water, blinking a few times while the Lich turns his attention toward the sky. The demon stares directly at Fizzle and pulls out its bow, nocking a black-shafted arrow. It sniffs the air, forcing the nervous drite to crawl along the bottom of the pool and put some distance between himself and the demon. A startled two-foot long fish darts past him and is quickly impaled on the arrow. Fizzle watches the gulping fish die in front of him, the body gradually floating to the surface. With tears in his eyes, the tiny dragon mutters a spell and a hand of water rises from the pool to slam the Hellfire Elf against the ground.

Fizzle soars out of the water and shouts, "You meanies no hurt more aminals! Fizzle make you stop!"

The demon struggles to its feet, violently shaking the heavy, enchanted water off. It tosses its longbow aside and unsheaths the Chaoswind, the evil blade humming in the presence of the drite. Fizzle is zipping along the surface of the pool, forcing the demon to patiently wait for him to get closer. Without warning, the tiny creature pulls out of a seemingly random loop and charges the assassin. The Hellfire Elf swings the Chaoswind, slicing cleanly through the tiny dragon's purple hide. The brave drite explodes into a cloud of red mist and the sneering demon grunts in victory. The Lich is still cautiously watching the sky, making no sign of ever having seen Fizzle.

"That was a waste of energy," the assassin mutters, hoisting the serrated sword onto its shoulder.

"Foolish demon," whispers its master. "This fight should do you some good."

The Hellfire Elf snarls, but stops when a flicker in the treetops draws its attention. It squints into the sun before getting rammed in the face by Fizzle's diving attack. The agile drite darts around the demon, repeatedly slamming into its limbs and face. When the assassin is dizzy and enraged, Fizzle whips its sword arm with his tail, knocking the Chaoswind to the ground.

"You no threaten Fizzle's forest!"

The Lich chuckles gently and casts a simple spell at the dragon, his voice a guttural garble that ignites the wind. A streak of fiery lightning clips Fizzle's wing, causing the poor creature to fall to the ground. Taking advantage of the distraction, the Hellfire Elf scoops up its sword and charges. Whimpering in pain, the drite rolls to all fours and scampers away from the approaching demon. The serrated blade swings down, cutting a tiny gash in his side. Even though it is a small injury, the pain is intense and Fizzle shrieks loud enough to make all of Visindor Forest shriek with him.

"Exquisite," the Lich whispers, reveling in the sounds of agony. "He must be centuries-old if the trees reacts to him like that. Killing him will weaken the natural magic of the area. This is perfect. Destroy him!"

The Hellfire Elf is nervous as it lifts the Chaoswind for as strong a downward slash as it can muster. Fighting the pain, the tiny dragon sits on his haunches and casts a spell as the sword comes down. With a high-pitched shriek, Fizzle zips into the air and soars through the forest at top speed. His breathing is ragged as he pushes his aching wings and muscles to their limits. His vision blurring, the drite crashes into a tangle of peppermint vines.

A few curses in Dragonesse escape his quivering lips as he turns invisible and passes out from the pain. The sweet-scented vines cover him and the surrounding forest goes deathly silent as the drite slips into a healing slumber.
8

After another day of getting nowhere in his mission, Luke decides to take his time with the run instead of trying to beat Selenia. He stays near the back of the mob, fighting the urge to sprint ahead. The talkative students try to tease him for showing off since his first day, but he ignores them once he enters the forest. Visindor feels wrong this morning and the half-elf silently wonders if he is the only one who notices. A quiet, mournful wind moves among the trees and the half-elf swears he hears someone crying for his help. Already on thin ice with Selenia after his fight with Roland, Luke resists the urge to stray into the forest. His mind cloudy and distracted, he jogs through the entrance of the academy and heads directly for the cafeteria.

Like every morning, Nimby has saved him a seat and chatters his ears off with academy gossip. They decided days ago that discussion of Luke's mission was not to be done in the cafeteria. The agreement was made after a female orc overheard Nimby vaguely mention a list of students. The panicky student cornered and interrogated the halfling, fearing Selenia was planning a mass suspension. It took all of the thief's skills to get out of the towering blonde's crushing grip and keep her at bay. He cunningly fed her a lie about putting together an advanced carpentry class. Even today, the halfling feels her piercing gaze on his back whenever she is around.

"Are you listening, Luke?" Nimby asks with concern. "You haven't said anything. It's like you aren't all there."

The forest tracker snaps out of his trance and realizes he has yet to touch his breakfast. He barely remembers returning from the run, much less getting food. He remains silent, eventually going back to staring off into space while swallowing a few bites of mush. Nimby reaches over to shake the half-elf by the wrist, but Aedyn puts a gentle, ink-blotched hand on the halfling's shoulder. A subtle nod of his head is all the priest needs to signal that they should leave Luke alone. Begrudgingly, Nimby turns his attention to Fritz and listens to the gnome ramble about a new invention.

It is not long before the instructors leave for class and the students disperse. Luke wishes to escape into the forest when he notices a shadow slip out a cafeteria window. At first, he thinks it is Nimby, but he hears Fritz ask the halfling for an apple. With so many students already out of the cafeteria, the half-elf cannot narrow down who the shadow could possibly have been.

Luke considers asking the others to follow him, but decides to leave them behind. If this is the assassin then he would need the advantages of stealth and surprise. He walks out the front door with the blossoming hope that his mission will soon end. If things go well, he will be back among the trees by nightfall. No more academy or classes or any of the other horrors that he has endured since arriving.

Without making a sound, Luke creeps around the building, carefully scanning the courtyards. He is walking toward the academy wall when he finds a thin line of matted grass leading from the corner of the cafeteria to a supply shed. A delicate sneeze followed by quick shuffling comes from the shed as Luke investigates the tracks. Taking a deep breath, the young warrior barges through the solid door. The clatter of a fallen shovel draws his attention as the door closes behind him, plunging him into near darkness.

As alert as Luke is, he does not see the broom handle until it jabs him in his side. With a low grunt, he drops to his knees and rolls out of the way of a wild swing to his head. The messy equipment shed leaves him little room for dodging, so he crashes into a rack of buckets. He gets his bearings in time to see the broom come at him again. Luke nimbly sidesteps the attack, grabbing and locking it in the crook of his arm. The attacker yanks at the broom, but his solid grip keeps it in place.

"Now, are you going to talk or are you going to continue fighting?" he asks, feeling his enemy repeatedly tug on the broom. He gives a quick twist, sending it clattering to the floor. "I suggest you talk since you lost your weapon. Not that a broom really counts as a weapon, but it hurts a lot when you poke someone with the handle."

"No fair!" exclaims a familiar female voice.

Picking up the broom, Luke uses it to crack open a high window. The light hits Kira and she backs against a shelf of dirty gardening tools, the light briefly hurting her eyes. The ebony-haired girl is on the verge of tears from a large splinter sticking out of her hand. Luke walks over to tenderly take her hand, feeling her body tense at his touch.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize who was attacking me and my instincts took over," he apologizes in a soothing voice. "Let me help you with the splinter. If the tip gets stuck in your finger, it can get infected. We wouldn't want that."

He carefully pulls the shard of wood out, gently using his teeth to pry out a piece that breaks off. Without thinking, Luke gives her finger a kiss and releases her hand. Kira blushes and takes a step away, rubbing her sore finger. Embarrassment covers the half-elf's face, which he tries to hide by turning toward the opposite wall.

Kira sits down on a barrel and nervously smiles at her classmate. "Thank you. I guess you really are a nice person. Even if you did rip my shirt off in front of our classmates. At least you aren't bragging about it like some of the other boys would. Honestly, if you were of nobler blood then I would consider that kiss as some kind of pass at me. Tricky nobles are always doing that to me, but it seems sweet and clumsy when you do it. You know, you aren't that hard on the eyes."

"I'm really sorry I ripped your shirt," Luke says, unable to meet her gaze while he apologizes. "I didn't mean for it to happen and I swear it will never happen again. Just to let you know, I kept my back turned and I didn't see anything. Not sure if that makes you feel better or not."

"I accept your apology," she says while running her fingers through her ebony hair. "Still, whether you saw anything or not is not the point. A woman of my caliber should never be made to suffer such a shameful display. I'm not some street-raised tomboy or a commoner like other girls at this academy. I come from superior stock and should be treated as such. Besides, the only person facing me was Kellia and I was quick enough to cover my br . . . you know."

"So, what are you doing in this shed?" Luke asks, desperate to change the subject. "I'd expect a girl of your caliber to be hiding in a nicer place than this. After all, there's fertilizer in here."

The half-elf moves to sit on the ground next to her, but she attempts to get to her feet. For no apparent reason, Kira trips and lands in Luke's lap. He lets out a grunt from the sudden impact, eyeing the young woman as he helps push her off.

"I'm so sorry. I'm such a klutz," she claims, kneeling in front of the half-elf. She places her hands in her lap and sighs. "Gabriel only knows why my father insisted on sending me here. I hate fighting, but he says I need to become a better leader and learn how to defend myself from his enemies. You must know how it is. Callindors are always in danger due to their reputation. By the way, I owe you a reward for tending to my hand."

Placing her hands on his legs, Kira leans over to give Luke a kiss on the forehead, inadvertently pressing against him. She freezes with her lips on his forehead, her body rigid and tense. He cannot tell if she is prolonging the kiss or if she realizes how much of them are touching. When his tries to look down, he notices her shirt is dangerously loose. Luke abruptly pushes Kira away and scrambles to his feet.

"W-Wait," Luke stutters. He takes a deep breath and wipes sweat from his brow before nervously rambling. "I don't know what you're doing here, but I'm not really interested. I mean, you're an attractive young lady and if we were in a different situation then I would probably be interested, but I really only wanted to know what you're doing here. You should button up your shirt before something falls out. Not that I'm hoping that happens or even thinking of it happening. I mean, I still feel bad about the incident in class, so it doesn't make any sense for me to see them since I was trying to avoid seeing them before. Um . . . Uh . . . Why are you in the shed?"

"I guess you really didn't look at them," Kira says with a shimmer of disappointment in her green eyes. "I'm surprised. I thought all warriors enjoyed the sight of a woman since they spend so much time either alone or among men. I guess with your looks, you don't have to go for too long without a woman"

"Please tell me why you're here, so I can leave."

"I needed to get away."

"I don't follow you."

"Like I said before, my father wants me to learn leadership skills and how to defend myself," Kira states in an impatient tone. She crosses her arms and taps her fingers on her elbows. "He hopes this experience will teach me how warriors think and act. That way I can work with them when I need to hire protection for our shipments. My father is getting old and I'm his eldest, and favorite, child, so I will be given the family business when he passes away. Contrary to the gossip, it isn't easy being the only daughter of Waylin Grasdon."

Kira gets to her feet and levels a thoughtful stare at Luke. "I bet you get a lot of attention because of your surname. I deal with the same thing as you, but in different circles. That's why I hide in places like this. It gives me time to be alone and escape those who expect things of me. Back home, I have a shack hidden ten miles into the desert. I built it around a pure water spring and I store some food there in case I get stuck in a sandstorm. Uh, why are you staring at me like that? Do I have something on my face? Did something actually fall out?"

"Nothing fell out and your face is pretty much perfect," the half-elf answers before he can stop himself. He subtly pinches himself in the thigh, cringing and chuckling nervously. "I didn't realize who you were until now. I thought you were the daughter of a king or a politician. Guess I'm not as perceptive as I thought."

"I think we're both missing some important stuff."

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you."

"It's so weird that the two of us would meet here," Luke says with a charming smile. "My father ships his merchandise through your father's company. That's when the shipments need to go overseas. You've probably seen some of my father's work, but you never said anything to me about it. I'm babbling like a fool now, but it's a surprise to find the daughter of a shipping company in this kind of place. Although, I'm no longer sure if I mean the academy or an equipment shed."

"Well I'm here. So are you," Kira bravely replies, slipping between the young warrior and the door. "Maybe there's a reason the two of us are here at this time. It might be an opportunity that will never happen again. I've always believed one should never pass up an opportunity when it presents itself. You never know whether it's the work of Gabriel or dumb luck."

"I think Gabriel has more important things to do," the half-elf interrupts, sweat forming on his brow. He reaches down to rub the pommels of his sabers before he remembers he is unarmed.

"I stand in a shed with the heir to the Callindor legacy and you're here with the heir to the Grasdon Merchant House. It makes one wonder about the possibilities," she diligently continues, ignoring her fellow student's anxiety. "You ever kiss a girl, Luke? Of course you have. I'm willing to bet you were the center of female attention in Haven. I mean, one just has to look at you to see the appeal. Your slender, toned body, soft hair, piercing eyes, and warm smile. You're very sweet too."

"Wait a minute!" Luke shouts, trying to go around her and escape. The shed is too small to let him pass by, especially when Kira stretches her leg to block his way. She quivers and hops awkwardly, struggling to keep her balance.

A mischievous smirk crosses her face before she pitches forward, wrapping her arms around the young warrior's neck. Their lips nearly touch, but Luke slips out from between her arms, leaving her flailing. He clambers up a shelving unit, getting enough height to hop over her while she tumbles into an open barrel. The half-elf yanks the door open to sprint away, but trips over his own foot and skids a few feet across the grass. He rolls onto his side to see Kira walk out of the shed, her hair covered in grass seeds. She pouts and sticks her tongue out at him as she heads toward the Bloodfae dormitory.

"Some hero you are!" she shouts from the middle of the courtyard. "Guess this means we're even now!"

Luke flops onto his stomach and remains face down in the grass. "When did girls get to be so much trouble? They were never this aggressive at home. At least Selenia wasn't around to see this."

A callused hand grabs the young warrior by the skin of his neck, roughly hoisting him to his feet. The half-elf is spun around and is hit in the stomach by something wooden for the second time today. As he falls to his knees, he can only think about asking Thomas why so many people around here aim for the stomach. His thoughts are snapped back to what is happening when a strong hand catches his chin, forcing him to look his attacker in the eye.

"I should ask what you were doing in there, but I think I already know the answer," Kevin Masterson snarls, a few specks of spit flying from his mouth. "You should be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of that young girl."

Kevin shifts his hand to get a tighter hold of Luke's lower jaw and drags him to the nearby wall. Nobody is around as he slams the half-elf against the wall and pulls a wooden club from his belt loop. The old warrior comes in quickly with a diagonal strike to Luke's head, but the younger warrior swiftly ducks underneath it. Being unarmed, the forest tracker tackles Kevin to the ground and punches his wrist. The veteran laughs and drops the club into the grass even though the blow barely stung.

"That wasn't funny," Luke declares, cautiously getting up. He offers a hand to Kevin who takes it and gets to his feet. "You could have caved in my head. The hell are you doing?"

"I'm keeping you on your toes, boy. It was obvious nothing happened in that shed since you came leaping out like a terrified monkey," the old warrior says with a wide, but scary, grin. He picks up the club and crushes it in his hand, revealing it to be hollow and harmless. "I decided to pick on you a little. Keeps you humble and in line. That and everyone else seems to have had a shot at you around here. I figured it was my turn."

"I'm starting to feel like the resident punching bag."

The veteran wipes his hands of the remnants of the fake club and puts an arm around the young warrior's shoulders. "I'm sure Thomas already warned you about the girls and their teasing competition. Selenia used to stop their games and punish them severely. Then she realized seduction can be a useful tool in the field. She never used it herself, but many women use their looks to their advantage. So, we leave the game alone unless it goes too far. Although, this is the first time Kira ever tried to seduce someone. She's usually too busy yelling and whining to put any effort into anything."

"Maybe she wanted to be alone and I barged in on her by accident," Luke politely suggests, gently moving the old man's burly arm.

"It could also be that you two have been breaking the rules since your little shirt-ripping incident," Kevin says, cracking his knuckles and grinning. "Yup, I heard about that. A rather odd event considering what I just saw. You acted like a gentleman back then, but who knows what happened if you privately apologized to her later. I know how you kids get sometimes."

The half-elf feels a lump grow in his throat while Kevin quietly watches him. It is a long silence filled by the veteran occasionally spitting onto the grass and Luke nervously shifting his feet. The old warrior finally lets out a laugh and gives the anxious student a thundering slap on the back, knocking him to the grass.

"You're far too easy to mess with, Callindor," the veteran states, helping the half-elf to his feet. "Let me tell you a secret. It's very rare that something happens between two students that would be grounds for expulsion. You're safe for now, boy. Unless you actually did something with that girl, because then I'm going to have to bring you to Selenia. She isn't someone you want to talk to about this. Probably a good thing she never had kids."

"I swear nothing happened. Can I please go to my next class?"

Kevin steps out of his way and nods. He is still smiling after Luke disappears across the courtyard. "His father and aunt would've seen me coming from a mile away. His grandfather would've had me on my back once I was in reach. Part of me thinks he saw me coming, but he didn't try to block me. It's almost like he's purposely holding himself back, but it's hard to tell since we don't know him. Still, we know the family and he isn't too different from the rest of them. He's cockier and, in my opinion, unluckier. What do you think?"

All he hears is a sigh and someone in a nearby tree jumping onto the wall. "Humph. You never did know how to be impressed with raw talent."

*****

The deafening clangs and bangs of the smithy is a sorely missed melody to Luke's ears as he works on his project. He is attempting to make a dagger, but the detail he wants is proving to be a frustrating challenge. He has already spent several class sessions and some free time on the blade, not having any time to start the hilt. A snake-like curve is forming in the metal along with a corkscrew-like twisting, making it rather impractical. Too awkward for throwing and too curvy for parrying, the dagger is steadily becoming a worthless hunk of metal. Luke pays little attention to his work as his mind wanders and absorbs the sounds of the smithy. The balmy and loud workshop has reminded him of his father's smithy since his first class. All of the familiar noises give him a sense of belonging and homesickness. It pains him to admit that standing at the forge is comforting to him, but he knows such a life will not satisfy him while his wanderlust remains unsatisfied.

This issue was the focus of the on-going debate between his father and grandfather. His father would argue for the safe life of a craftsman while his grandfather would swear by the heroic traditions of the Callindor bloodline. It was always a private argument, but Luke found ways to eavesdrop and catch some of the barbs his father and grandfather hurled at each other. He even remembers a time they even came to blows, which resulted in both men suffering injuries. The proud Elven men were forced to accept bed rest and, against their constant complaining, coddling by Luke's mother. A smile crosses his face as he remembers that week where the two men learned to never cross the woman of the house. Unless they wanted to be further injured by an accidentally dropped bowl of hot soup or flipped out of bed in the middle of the night when she felt their sheets had to be changed. The memories bring a tear to Luke's eyes as they drive home the fact that he never said good-bye to his mother.

The half-elf is still reminiscing while his classmates put their projects away and clean their workstations. He bangs at the hot metal in front of him as sparks singe his arm, the pain jolting him out of his mild trance. He examines his project and accepts that putting a spiral into the metal is not going the way he wants. The twist is too pronounced when all he wanted was a slight curve that could only be seen upon closer inspection. Giving the metal a final hit and returning it to the forge, Luke considers changing his project to a simple bracer.

"You keep going like that you'll never grow your arm hair back," Duggan warns him, picking up the hot metal with his bare hand. "It's time for you to take a break, kid. Everyone else left for their next class, but I'm guessing you have some free time since you're still here. If not then we'll say I asked you to stay late. I'd give you some ale if that damn woman hadn't outlawed the fine brew from the premises. Stuffy woman wouldn't know a good drink if it bit her on the tongue."

The dwarf places the metal on an empty shelf and grabs Luke by the shoulder. The calloused hand is surprisingly cool as Duggan leads the half-elf to the back of the smithy. He throws water on a few of the forges, filling the building with steam.

"I was hoping to finish the spiral formation before lunch, sir. Where are we going?" Luke asks, using his sleeve to wipe sweat and dirt from his face. He only succeeds in smearing the grime and getting some in his eyes.

"A secret that I don't show many people this place," the dwarf admits as he searches the back wall. "I put it in several years ago without Selenia's knowledge, so you don't whisper a word of this. The woman has an unhealthy dislike toward things of this nature being on her property. I figure I can trust you, though. You're Ilan's kid, after all. That man and I go further back than any of my other living, non-dwarf friends."

"You know my dad?"

The blacksmith ignores the question, focusing on the bricks in front of him. After a minute of feeling and pressing the wall, Duggan puts his hand on a solitary brick and whispers a phrase in Old Dwarven. The stone briefly glows a deep red, the symbol of a swinging battle-axe moving from one edge to the other. A large chunk of the wall pivots into itself, revealing a small passage that is low enough to force Duggan to duck as he enters.

Curiosity filling his heart, Luke gets onto all fours to crawl into the dank passage. The passage is very wide to allow the stocky dwarf to pass through, but the half-elf's head hits the low ceiling a few times. After the third dizzying bump, he gets on his stomach and uses his elbows to drag himself along the rough floor. He emerges into a windowless room, the only lighting coming from magical glass orbs set high on the walls. Casks of Dwarven ale are piled along the side walls and Duggan immediately pours himself a frothy mug. It takes a few seconds for Luke's eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and he stares in disbelief when he sees the back wall. Finely-crafted weapons and helmets, each marked with the symbol of a swinging battle-axe, take up the entire side of the room. In the middle of the display is a stone altar with a glowing war hammer balanced on its head. A silk ribbon is tied around the weapon's iron handle, which has been seamlessly attached to the stone head. Luke approaches the altar, silently gazing at the gorgeous weapon.

"Pieces of art," Duggan says in a low, soft voice. He puts a full mug into his student's hand and places another on the altar next to the war hammer. "All of them are pieces of art. The opportunities to make objects of beauty like these are what make my life worth living. The Holy One has smiled on me for most of my life and I've been loyal to him from the time I could finish a mug of my family's strongest ale."

"That is a thing of beauty. You made everything in this room for your god?" Luke asks in a hushed tone, fighting the temptation to taste the ale. "I'm not familiar with the Holy One. I was raised on human and Elven gods."

"Contrary to how people think, there are no separate pantheons in this world, kid. Hasn't been since the gods rallied against a mutual threat," Duggan says as he takes in the sight of his collection. "We mortals no longer know who that foe was, but we do know the Dwarven gods took the front line alongside the orc and Elven gods. The Holy One was in charge of my people's gods and he was one of the few of our deities to survive. After the battle, the gods merged pantheons to cover the positions of the fallen and avoid in-fighting during a time when they needed to unite."

"Oh." Luke tries his best to show his understanding, but the vacant look on his face gives him away.

Seeing his student's vacant expression, the dwarf takes another drink before continuing, "Sorry. I don't get to talk theology with anyone other than Karwyn and Masterson. In regards to me making everything here, I can't take credit for a few things. It would be dishonorable to even jokingly taking credit."

"What didn't you make? Everything looks to be made in the Dwarven style," the half-elf says, carefully examining the back wall. He touches a dark red shield and immediately feels magic flow into his arm. "Well, maybe you didn't make this shield. I never heard of a dwarf making something out of crab shells, shark teeth, and seaweed. Also, I can feel magic, but I don't know if you can imbue weapons."

"Good eye. That is a Sea King's shield, which was given to me by a sea elf maiden I saved from a giant squid. There is one other item I'm not responsible for, but you won't be able to figure it out," the dwarf says with a puckish grin, picking up the war hammer and spinning it over his head a few times. "The fog-looking armor over there was a present from your father while we were adventuring. A caster friend enchanted it, but your old man is the smith who crafted it. He said the armor would solve my problem of being too loud when we had to use stealth and silence. We dwarves are great warriors, but walking softly isn't one of our talents. Tis the way the Holy One made us and we wouldn't have it any other way."

"My father made that?" Luke asks in disbelief. He lifts the arm of the platemail, getting a closer look at the masterfully crafted armor. "I guess you really do know more about him than I do. Dad never talked about what he did before he met my mom. He told me he had been a blacksmith since the age of thirty and he's well over one hundred by now. My grandfather mentioned he was an adventurer like I want to be, but he was sworn not to tell me anything more than that. This is going to sound like a strange request, Mister Ironcaster. Could you tell me what my father was like before he settled down?"

Luke eyes the war hammer while he waits, eventually looking at Duggan with a begging smile. After some thought, the dwarf hands the glowing weapon to the young warrior. As soon as it leaves the blacksmith's hand, the weapon falls to the floor, yanking Luke to his knees. The war hammer narrowly avoids crushing the half-elf's foot as it magically sticks to the floor. The half-elf pulls and tugs at the weapon, but it refuses to budge. Finally, he gives up and watches Duggan lift the war hammer onto his shoulder with ease.

"Part of the magic of this weapon is that only I may wield it. I get a kick out of others trying though," the dwarf states with a satisfied smile and a deep laugh that shakes his gray beard. "As for your request, it wouldn't be proper friendship for me to go behind your father's back and tell his secrets. All I can tell you are the basics that you could hear in local taverns, which you would discover if you had the sense to ask around. Probably best that you hear it from someone who was there. Ilan was an officer in Selenia's mercenary army along with me, Kevin, Daniel Skyblade, and a few others who, unfortunately, are no longer with us. He was fifty at the time and was looking for a way to learn more about smithwork. It was priceless to see Selenia fume every time your old man studied the weapons of our enemies. To be fair to her, sometimes he would do it before they were dead. Our group lasted for a little over twenty years before . . . let's just say things went sour. None of us like to talk about it, especially Ilan and Selenia. Soon after, your father met your mother and he settled down. Selenia was ready to drag him with us if Kevin hadn't stepped in on Ilan's behalf."

"He was a great warrior?"

Duggan refills his mug and takes a long drink, a dribble running down his beard. "He was a decent warrior. Ilan was only great in two things. Smithwork and friendship. He would do anything to make a person feel at ease. If you wanted advice then you went to Ilan. He kept his heart open, which is why our biggest failure hit him harder than the rest of us. I think that's enough, kid. Finish your ale and be on your way. Remember that this is our secret and I know where you sleep."

Luke chugs down the crisp ale, feeling a rush of dizziness wrap around his head. Duggan laughs as he kneels to the altar and begins his daily prayers. He does not notice when the half-elf leaves the hidden room and cautiously returns to the workshop. Luke is met by a wall of heat as he crawls out of the passage. A gust of cool air hits his back when the door slams shut behind him. The forest tracker goes to his project, gently taking the twisted metal in his hands. The cool iron has turned black with white flakes, which stick to his sweaty skin. He examines the piece, scowling before tossing it back on the shelf.

"There's no way I'm ever going to be as good as Duggan or my father when it comes to smith work. I don't see why I even accepted this class since it has nothing to do with my mission. I could have changed it to some other type of trade class or maybe Nimby's carpentry class. This is a total waste of time."

*****

The courtyard is vacant while the students are at the cafeteria for lunch and the teachers are preparing for afternoon classes. Aedyn picks at the warm food Nimby brought to their meeting, the halfling having stopped them from entering the cafeteria. The priest regrets his decision as soon as the thief spouts insanity about hunting down assassins in the academy. Nimby stands on the fountain edge with a look of stubborn determination plastered upon his face. Fritz ignores his friends as he grooms Bessaria and finishes his meal.

"I do not think this is as simple as you make it sound, Nimby," Aedyn argues. He tries to remain calm by gripping his staff, his knuckles turning white. "Finding an assassin is not like picking someone's pocket or sneaking apples off food trays. An assassin is deadly and trained to hide in plain sight. I do not even think we should be discussing it so openly like this. People can hear us, especially any elves who happen to wonder why the three of us are together and whispering. We look suspicious."

"Come on, Aedyn. The three of us have watched these students since they arrived at the academy, so the heir has been under our nose this whole time. If we haven't noticed a suspicious student by now then we aren't going to notice now," the halfling explains while absent-mindedly juggling some apples. "Luke doesn't know who he's protecting or who he's protecting this person from. Even if he finds the heir, it'll be another, more difficult, hunt to uncover the assassin before they attack. All I'm suggesting is that we might be more help to Luke if we concentrate on the assassin. We know the academy better than him, so it should be easy for us to spot the person who doesn't belong here."

Full of energy, Nimby lets the apples fall into the water and cartwheels along the rim while Aedyn quietly thinks about his argument. Neither of them notice Fritz cast a spell under his breath. A fearsome, gray-skinned orc wielding a rusty broadsword materializes in front of the thief. With a startled yelp Nimby slips and tumbles into the water, the fish racing to the other side of the fountain.

"Back up to three," the gnome whispers with a grin, snapping his fingers to make the illusion vanish. He pats Bessaria on her head and goes to help his friend out of the fountain. "Now, I have to agree with Aedyn on this. You might be putting yourself and this mysterious heir in more danger than you realize, my excitable friend. What if this assassin is something worse than what you just saw? It could be your death, which would be very, very, incredibly, horribly inconvenient for you."

Fritz strokes his beard and continues, stopping his excited friend from interrupting. "Of course, this heir might be one of the female students. She might have a reward for her saviors. A very big reward of the physical kind. Tall women really get my old heart racing. Legs that go far beyond two feet long are amazing creations that I commend the gods for making. That's it, Nimby! You've talked me into it. I'll help you find the assassin and claim my prize."

"What!?" Aedyn exclaims as his allies shake hands. "He did not talk you into anything! You talked yourself into it, you crazy gnome! On the off chance that sanity will prevail here, I have to ask one final question. Do you two realize the amount of trouble you will get in by harassing people you think are assassins?"

"You don't have to join us if you don't want to. We know you have your observation reports to do," Nimby says, wringing water from his clothes. "Besides, you'd be pretty bad at this kind of mission. Loud priests are a problem when you need to use stealth."

"Then we agree on one thing," Aedyn states, lifting his staff over his shoulder and turning to walk away. "This mission, as you call it, is not meant for me. Although I find it hard to believe stealth will be a priority with you two involved. I can feel the gods gathering to watch this debacle. Good day to both of you. I will be around when you have regained your sanity and find a way out of whatever trouble you get into. I might even be willing to heal your inevitable injuries."

"Don't worry about the boy. He can do whatever he wants," Fritz declares, his mind drifting back to thoughts of women. "We have a curvaceous damsel to rescue and luscious rewards to reap. Course, we have no idea what we're looking for. I think this is more your thing than mine. After all, you spend more time with the other teachers than I do. We got two new one's recently, didn't we?"

Nimby is munching on some crackers when one of Clarence's sleek hunting dogs wanders over. The curious animal sniffs at his pockets, picking up the scent of something interesting and yelps loudly. The halfling throws some dried meat to the begging dog, which it slowly chews while curling up on the warm grass. Bessaria is cautiously eyeing the slender beast, finally running off to the stables when the canine yawns.

The gnome watches his loyal steed disappear into the open stables. "I haven't seen the old girl run like that since we came across a goblin scouting party eating mutton. Guess she isn't a fan of watching the dog eat what could have been related to her. Then again with trail rations, that meat could have been related to one of us. So, any ideas on who we should investigate?"

"Well, Daniel Skyblade is a friend of Selenia. He's clear unless someone is disguised as him, but Selenia would have found him out. They've been talking since he arrived and she hasn't been the slightest bit suspicious of him," Nimby replies while running a hand through his curly hair. "My money would be on the other newcomer. You know, that female calico who's been lounging around the teacher's dorm. She's the new knife fighting teacher, which is a very assassin-y skill. That's all I know about her though. She doesn't talk much and, most importantly, she tends to disappear whenever Selenia is around. That screams suspicious behavior, doesn't it? I think her name is Theresa."

"Lovely Theresa," Fritz gushes, doing a clumsy, one-footed spin. "Such a beautiful name and I'm betting she has the body to go along with it. It would be such a pleasure to meet this mysterious, misunderstood beauty. I'll prove to you she is not the assassin. I, Fritz Warrenberg, will protect her name and reputation to the bitter end."

"Whose side are you on?" the halfling groans, petting the dog at his feet. "She might be the assassin. Also, I don't think she'd be interested in you. She comes off as rather cold-hearted and anti-social."

Fritz glares at Nimby and scoffs, "My dear friend! How can you say that about the woman I adore? It makes no difference to me if she's a heartless, blood hungry assassin. Nobody refuses a little gnome action when it stares them in the face, my boy."

The halfling accidentally falls back into the fountain when he smacks himself in the forehead. He stands in the water laughing, taking a few seconds to catch his breath. "Face? Don't you mean kneecap? Out of respect, I didn't laugh when you started that romantic mush. Then, you had to end with that terrible tavern pick-up line. Now, let's have some real fun with some healthy investigating and snooping."

"Let me be serious here for a minute," Fritz states, curiosity filling his crimson eyes. "Why do you want to go assassin hunting when this is Luke's mission? This is very uncharacteristic of you. I mean, you never struck me as the type to stick his neck out for anyone or use so much blind faith. For all we truly know, Luke is the assassin and we're helping him find his prey. I might be going along with this mission, but I've considered that scenario."

"You know he isn't the assassin."

"I don't believe that he's the assassin. Yet, I don't know that for an undisputed fact. Work with illusions and the unknown, you will find that not everything should be taken at face value. In the end, that is my opinion and possibly Aedyn's too." The gnome waves his hands as if to push his words from the air. "Nimby, I'm worried about you. This is a very dangerous game and I'm wondering why you're being so helpful to a stranger. Not that I'm entirely complaining since I get to check out one of the new curves of the academy."

Nimby laughs while he clambers out of the fountain and empties the water from his boots onto the grass. "We've gone over this already. All of this feels right to me, but I worry that I'm not doing my part. You and Aedyn have your wisdom, knowledge, and magic. Luke has his swords and courage. I want to do something more than gathering information and being a listening ear. This is a partnership, so I plan on showing I can carry my weight. Luke can't do everything by himself . . . especially if he tries to spend the entire reward he'll be getting. I'm only doing my part, so I can claim my even share without anyone questioning my level of contribution. Does that sound more like me?"

"Yes, but I'm sure you're lying. You are a thief, after all," the gnome points out with a friendly smirk.

They each give the slender hunting dog a pat on the head as they leave for the teacher's dormitory. Within minutes of their departure, the animal frantically howls at the fountain. The students leaving the cafeteria watch as the sword-wielding warrior statue cries thick tears of light. A large crowd forms around the spectacle, the students staring and pointing as the crying figure fills the fountain with glowing liquid.

"Nobody touch that water!" Aedyn shouts, gently pushing his way through the mob. "This can be a sign from a god or a trick from something else. Everyone please return to your classes and allow me to handle the situation."

The students mutter under their breath, but they do what the priest says. He waits for most of them to disperse before turning back to the fountain. A single figure remains, standing behind Aedyn with a curious look on his face.

"I haven't seen anything like this for about four years," Daniel Skyblade claims, letting out a low whistle of awe. "That's a common omen from Durag, but you would know better than me. I never understood why the sun god uses water for messages."

"You are well-versed, Lord Skyblade. They are called Durag's Tears," Aedyn explains, kneeling down to get a closer look. He can see the fish are still alive and darting around the water as if they have been magically sped up. "Water and sun have an intimate relationship, but that is not important here. I must admit I am surprised someone of your standing has taken the time to learn about omens. I assumed you would be content with women and dances and politics instead of the workings of the gods."

The nobleman laughs and ruffles the half-elf's hair. "I owe my luck to Cessia and my combat prowess to Ram. Since you seem to be in good cheer, I assume this is not a foretelling of horrible events."

"It is hard to say," the priest admits, waving his hand over the fountain. He feels a bite of energy hit his finger, but refuses to react in order to avoid worrying anyone watching. "Usually the tears appear to warn a sun priest that extreme danger is nearby. It is not necessarily a threat. So, something unnatural is in the area, but I cannot tell if we have to worry about it. Sadly, the gods are vague and mysterious. They force us to think for ourselves, which helps us become stronger in both mind and spirit. It also causes large bouts of confusion."

"I see," Daniel says with a piercing gaze that makes the priest uncomfortable. "Well, I hope you can figure this omen out. I'm going to see if Duggan has any of his family's home-brewed ale stashed on the grounds. Good luck, young priest."

Aedyn stays at the fountain where the hunting dog licks at his dangling hands, trying to get his attention. Eventually, the animal gets bored and wanders back to the stables, glancing at the priest before disappearing from view. He dips his cupped hand into the water, but nothing out of the ordinary happens. Taking a deep breath, he clears his mind and leaves for his room. The only thought in his head is the one he hid from Daniel Skyblade and would keep hidden until he is sure it is right. He knows someone at the academy is going to die.

*****

Theresa can feel the hair on the back of her neck rise as someone knocks on her door. Out of habit, she pulls a dagger out from under the nearby table, slipping the blade into a leg sheath. For an instant, she considers putting her freshly oiled leather armor over her white, short-sleeved shirt. The calico relaxes when she notices the insistent knocking is rather low on the door. After another minute of waiting, she opens the door to find Fritz and Nimby in the hallway. The halfling has his lock picks out, holding them an inch away from where the doorknob used to be. He grins and the shiny picks swiftly disappear into his sleeves. Fritz is patiently standing across the hallway, the gnome casually reading a battered notebook that occasionally drips oil onto the floor. Theresa opens her mouth to tell them to leave when Nimby slips by her. In contrast to the rude halfling, Fritz gives her a silent bow of apology and lets her lead him inside. Once he is done admiring the young woman's swishing tail, the gnome notices Kellia is sitting in a chair with a cup of steaming tea.

"Well, what's going on here?" Fritz asks as he closes the door.

"Kellia came to talk about transferring into my knife fighting class," Theresa explains, taking a seat next to the blushing student. "She isn't doing well in siege weapon history, so she wants to transfer before it's too late in the semester. I believe you teach that class, Mr. Warrenberg. In fact, siege weapons are one of your specialties if the stories about your talents are true."

"I'll admit that her grades have a lot to be desired," the gnome says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. He quickly recovers his warm, friendly tone and scratches his beard. "That's a nice way of saying she sleeps through class if she even bothers to attend. Still, that shouldn't be a reason to give up. Learning the history of siege weapons is important because, all too often, today's warriors find themselves facing such technology. It's essential to know which levers and ropes control which function. Do you know what to do when faced with an Orcish ballista, Ms. Marley?"

"You fire an arrow or throw a dagger at the mid-sized gear found about a foot to the right of the firing lever. Your goal is to spin the gear without breaking or jamming it," the seasoned warrior calmly explains. She grins triumphantly at Fritz's stunned expression and purrs in delight. "This should make the ballista collapse, causing the machine to be parallel to the ground instead of angled. Any projectile fired at the time will hit the ground along with any allies standing about twenty yards in front of the weapon. To increase your chance of success, you should throw a dagger into the throat of the warrior closest to the lever. Try to sever the windpipe and, if you're very good, the spine, so your target drops immediately. This gives you a few seconds of confusion that you can use to reach the ballista and finish off the rest of the firing team."

Nimby nervously looks from Theresa's grin to Fritz's look of awe. "I don't like either of those faces."

"Personally, I prefer to deal with siege towers," the calico admits, getting comfortable on the sofa. She arches her back as she stretches her arms over her head and yawns. "They're much easier to dispose of considering they're designed for quick set up instead of durability. All one has to do is scare the horses pulling the structure or set fire to the middle of it. You must set the fire high enough for it to be difficult to put out, but not so high that it gets blown out by the winds. That happened to me once and it was rather embarrassing."

Fritz sits next to Theresa, gently stroking her hand. She yanks it away and smacks the gnome across the face, retracting her claws at the last second. The hit has no effect as he puts his hands behind his head and leans back with a happy smile. Nimby and Kellia continue to be ignored as they quietly watch the exchange.

"I'm impressed, but you're wrong about the siege tower," Fritz declares with a chuckle, ignoring the groan from his friend. "If one is able to sever the fourth support strap of the panel that is second closest to the top on the left side then the entire structure will collapse. That's the left side if you're facing it from behind the horses. It's a design flaw that we've worked very hard to analyze. Fortunately, there's a new model that puts the support straps on the inside without losing the quick setup. Nobody has found a weak point yet. Then again, your fire tactic would still be a threat. We really must get together on a moonlit night and discuss siege weapons."

"I should let you three handle whatever business you have. Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Marley," Kellia says as she stands. She politely exits the room, leaving the warrior to deal with Fritz and Nimby.

"Let's go to the point, gentlemen. Tell me what you want and don't try to lie. I was told of your reputations before I arrived," Theresa warns them in a voice reminding Nimby of a hungry mountain lion. With her tail moving hypnotically behind her, she levels her predatory gaze at the gnome. "You're Fritz Warrenberg from the Guldrack Mountains. Your fame includes being a master of alchemy, engineering, and, inventing. You recently created the sodium globe launcher, which is a weapon that fires glass orbs containing raw sodium and creates a small explosion on contact. You claimed it can be used against Weapon Dragons when magic is unavailable. The weapon has been banned on all continents after being adopted by several criminal organizations. This weapon earned you your fourth Sulfurite Award, but the controversy around your invention led to you demanding you be banned from all future nominations. A very noble request considering what else I know about you. You're a shameless womanizer and partake of the taverns as often as you can. A lesser known interest of yours is that you have studied the anatomy and behavior of several beasts including griffins, giltris, unicorns, satyrs, and most undead. Aside from your social behavior, you are unquestionably one of the premiere geniuses alive today."

"And you're Nimby," she continues, turning from the blushing gnome to the nervous halfling. "No last name, aliases, or records of homeland and family. You're a mystery even among thieves who pride themselves on knowing the unknown. I could list your accomplishments, but I need only mention one to reveal your true nature. You're responsible for stealing the jewels of Queen Nosh of Fornyle and planting them on one of her sons, who was put to death. This led to the implosion of the royal family, who had been ruling through brutality and secret executions since their matriarch assumed power at the age of ten. Your prank caused the other sons of Queen Nosh to turn on her and reveal all of her evil actions to the public. The land is now a blossoming kingdom within the islands of Cerascent and very few know who was responsible for inciting the civil war. You disappeared from the public eye for years until you reappeared in the Rodillen thieves' guild five years ago. There was an incident between you and some other thieves, so you left to become a carpentry teacher in an ex-mercenary's academy."

Her guests stare at each other, neither knowing what to say. Theresa gets herself a glass of water and pours two more for her stunned guests. Still lost in thought, they silently take the offered drinks and take delicate sips. She watches them over the rim of her glass, contently lapping at the water with her bright pink tongue. The tension growing too thick for him, Nimby pulls out his yo-yo and does some tricks.

"Well, it looks like you know a lot about us," Fritz says once he finishes his water. "I'm rather flattered you took the time to investigate me. I guess this means I don't have to talk about myself and we can skip to discussing important things like you, the wedding, and what our kids should be named."

Nimby skims his friend's nose with his yo-yo to get everyone's attention. "Fritz is right in a warped kind of way. We were hoping to learn more about you, Ms. Marley. I mean, everyone has heard of Daniel Skyblade and his adventures. I guess you could say there's nothing interesting about him once you hear the tales. In contrast, we've never heard any stories about you. Selenia hires people with impressive backgrounds, but you aren't even mentioned in bardic footnotes. Like me, you don't exist in stories or reputation."

"I'm flattered you find me so interesting. I feel it's about time people started hearing more about the female warriors of today," she says with a proud smirk. She coughs and wipes the expression off her face. "Forgive me, but I have a feeling there is more to your curiosity than you let on. I've noticed both of you are up to something. You're also close to the Callindor boy, so for all I know he wants this information and is making you do his dirty work. I know he was tempted to challenge me, but he backed down. A true coward dressed as a hero."

"Luke isn't a coward! You take that back!" Nimby defiantly shouts.

"Well, I guess he can't be all bad if a thief is willing to defend him so quickly. I'm sure there's nothing suspicious about that at all."

"Luke and I might have just met, but he is my friend," the halfling argues, his face red with anger. "He's the only person at this academy who listens to all of my stories instead of pretending to pay attention. I'm happy to call him my friend and nobody insults my friends when I'm around. What is your problem with him?"

Theresa arches her back with a full-body stretch, ignoring Fritz's lecherous smirk. "He's been given everything because of his name. You can tell by the look on his face and the near-pristine condition of his gear that he has not earned his reputation through action. I assume you've looked through his belongings like I have, so don't look shocked. When Luke reaches the level of skill that Skyblade and Selenia are at then I can assure you he'll get cockier. That sickens me even more because people like your friend always let their reputation go to their heads. Nobody is willing to tell them when they are behaving like jerks. I guess what I mean to say is that I hate him for what he will undoubtedly become."

"So, you're a bitter kitten with a chip on her shoulder," Nimby states, taking his seat again.

"You little imp! You know nothing about me and-"

"And you know nothing about Luke, so you shouldn't talk like that about him," the halfling sharply interrupts, surprising the warrior with his fierceness. "Now, we still have some questions you said we could ask. Luke and your personal feelings toward him have nothing to do with our visit. That is unless you feel the need to continue this debate. I warn you that if you continue to insult my friend, it will become an issue that will be made very public and very messy. You want to add anything, Fritz?"

"I think you were perfectly clear for both of us. Now, for our important questions. What is your favorite drink and-" Fritz says before an empty cup bounces off his forehead. "There's no need for that, halfling."

"This isn't the time for that, gnome. Besides, I don't think she's your type," Nimby retorts, his demeanor becoming calm and friendly again. He turns his attention back to Theresa, who is cautiously eyeing him. "I want to know what you did before coming to the academy. You talk like a seasoned adventurer, but that doesn't narrow down your experience. Were you in an army, a guild, or a freelancer?"

The calico smirks at the halfling, but frowns when Fritz puts his hand on her leg. Jumping to her feet, she punches him in the nose, causing the flimsy couch to fall over with the gnome still seated on it. Nimby ignores his friend, who crawls into a nearby rocking chair and pulls out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off his upper lip.

"Does he always act like this?" she asks. She adjusts her pants, so her tail is back in the comfortable dip along the waistline.

"I'm afraid so. He was rejected for an entire week in the Gaian taverns, so he's attention-starved. Unless you talk to him about anything intellectual or creative, Fritz tends to act on his libido," Nimby explains while fingering a nearby paperweight. "Not like me. I'm a model of self-control and restraint. You won't catch me hitting on girls or making lewd comments. Not my type of entertainment."

"I see," Theresa mutters, letting her eyes scan the tables and shelves in reach of the thief.

A few seconds of silence pass as she notices that some of the items near Nimby have been moved. The change is nothing more than a subtle shift only she would pick up on since she memorized the placement of every item in the room. She hides her amazement since the only times she took her attention off the thief were when Fritz forced her to hit him. Both times the halfling was off her mind for no more than ten seconds and he still managed to examine everything around him. She expected him to be good at his trade, but this is at the level of a master thief, which makes him a true oddity. The only explanation she can think of is that the halfling is hiding from some powerful enemies, which would explain why he sticks so close to someone like Luke Callindor. Many people would think twice about moving on Nimby if they thought he is protected by a skilled warrior. Theresa rubs her arms as if she is cold, hiding the shiver from realizing the halfling is a lot smarter, and possibly more dangerous, than she previously thought. The anxiety creeping into her skin is a signal that this conversation has to end soon.

"You want to know about me, gentlemen? Very well," their host declares, a predatory grin appearing to mask her growing worry. "I'm from Rodillen where I was trained as a thief, but I never joined the guild and only stole enough to survive. My goal was to leave the city with no connections. I spent five years jumping among various adventuring groups in order to journey across Windemere. I have fought Weapon Dragons, trolls, old-world vampires, new-world vampires, lycanthropes, and demons to become what I am today."

When she stops to take a breath, Fritz politely interjects, "It sounds like you've had a rough life with many bad experiences. I suggest you not let these experiences harm the potential friendships you can make here."

"I've spent the last six years in Gaia as a special agent of the Grand Counselors," she continues, ignoring the gnome's sympathy and suggestion. "My duties included covert operations and removing thieves who attempt to develop a guild. I handled my missions in the shadows, beyond the law's reach. Somehow my reputation focused on my assassination assignments, which became my specialty. So, I was used as a last resort by my employers and came to be called Death's Shadow."

Nimby's face immediately goes white and he grabs Fritz by the ankle. He drags the struggling gnome out of the room without looking away from Theresa, whose cold smile burns into his mind. Again, the halfling is reminded of a mountain lion, which sends a shiver down his spine. When he gets to the door, he gathers the courage to turn and face her.

"We're sorry to have bothered you. Did I mention that I've retired and only steal from other thieves? It must have slipped my mind," he rambles, his words spewing from his mouth at an amazing speed. "Take care and try to keep the body count low while you're here, especially if you set your sights on the halfling population. There aren't many of us in the first place, so Selenia would notice if we began disappearing. Also, she really hates having to clean up messes."

Theresa sneers as Nimby dashes out the door, dragging Fritz behind him. She can hear the heavy thudding of the gnome's head on the stairs as the spooked thief hurries away. She cannot stop herself from laughing while she closes and locks the door. She coughs and takes several deep breaths as she picks up a notebook from her desk and draws a thin dagger. The calico slices a thin line through two of the five names on the first page.

"Fritz Warrenberg and Nimby," the calico whispers, tossing the notebook onto the overturned couch. "Nothing to worry about from those two, but the others might be trouble. I noticed Aedyn Karwyn doesn't seem to care about what his friends are doing. Sometimes I wonder if he's even aware of what they're doing or if he's out of the loop. That doesn't mean he won't get involved, so I'll keep an eye on him. Still, we have to concentrate on getting rid of the Callindor before he ruins everything. What do you think?"

She flicks her dagger at a corner of the room where it slices through the rope holding one of the window curtains open. The dark fabric glides into place and a person materializes in the appearing shadows.

"Glad to see those two aren't good enough to see through illusions," Kellia says, releasing an anxious breath. Her body relaxes from the strain of having to stand still for so long and she takes small steps toward a chair, feeling her legs tingle and itch. "If they figured out that I didn't really leave then we would have been in trouble."

"They are that good," Theresa points out, stretching her arms and whipping her tail. "They never thought an illusion would be in the room, so they never checked. If they noticed the curtains are different than the standard issue then they could have guessed that they're enchanted. We got lucky, but it's best not to be caught together in private again."

"You're right," the black-haired woman agrees, taking her glass of tepid tea and swallowing it in one gulp. "I hate to admit you're right about that little gang. Most of them shouldn't pose a problem for us, but Luke is the one that worries me. Trouble and meddling are written all over his face. I'll leave him to you, Ms. Marley. I hope you can settle all this quickly and without making a scene."

"As you wish, milady," the calico states, opening the door for her guest. Kellia gives her a quick hug before entering the hallway and disappearing into the shadows.
9

Luke is jolted out of his thoughts by the wooden blade smacking. It is the middle of the advanced sword fighting class and he has been in a mental haze since his earlier encounter with Kira. Nothing registers in his mind beyond the distant creaking of swaying branches and the unseasonal wisps of icy wind on his face. He can feel that something is wrong in Visindor Forest, the sensation so strong that it is difficult to focus. That is until the pain of a bruised knee gets his attention and he hops across the sparring circle in a comical attempt to regain his balance. He avoids tumbling backwards by planting his training sabers into the ground, using them to push back to his feet.

"Halt! Get your head back on your neck, Callindor!" Selenia shouts from where she is talking with Theresa. "If this was a real fight, Matias would have taken your lower leg off!"

"Sorry, Matias, I'll pay more attention," Luke whispers, spinning his training sabers.

The bulky Matias makes a humble shrug and hefts his two-handed broadsword into a guard position. "Don't worry about it, Luke. You were only fighting in a daze for five minutes and I was still having trouble. Your instincts and reflexes are amazing. It's hard to believe you're a student like the rest of us."

"Yeah . . . hard to believe."

Catching an opening, Luke slides under a wide swing and slices across Matias's stomach. He makes sure to use enough force to let the bigger student feel the contact. They continue sparring until Luke jumps into the air and lands on his opponent's out-stretched sword, its flats facing the ground and sky. The half-elf skillfully leaps over Matias and thrusts both swords behind him, hitting the other student in the lower back. There is no reason for the half-elf to turn around as his classmate drops his sword and awkwardly falls to his hands and knees.

"Callindor! The object is not to cripple your sparring partner!" Selenia exclaims, storming over to the young warrior.

"Sorry about that," Luke apologizes, helping Matias to his feet. "I got carried away. I didn't think I was hitting you that hard."

The smiling student laughs and admits, "Honestly, I barely felt your strikes. I lost my footing when I tried to turn around. Seriously, I'm fine."

Selenia grabs Luke by his shirt collar and tosses him aside, which leaves Matias to fall back to his knees. Theresa cautiously joins them as the headmistress orders two students to bring their injured classmate to the infirmary. He continues arguing that he is healthy while the students lead him away. The headmistress is about to verbally rip into the forest tracker when Theresa steps between them, the tip of her tail flicking her employer's chin.

"I see the problem, Selenia," the calico interjects while removing her armor and dropping it to the ground. "A lifetime of being called a hero for nothing has made him cocky, which makes him a danger to the other students. I'm surprised you didn't recognize his attitude problem earlier. Am I right, forest tracker? Do you believe you're better than your peers?"

Luke notices the other students are gathering around them, their eyes holding the hope that a fight will break out. "I've had previous training, but that doesn't mean I'm better than my classmates. I take my share of beatings."

"Matias called you a challenge," Theresa declares as she stretches her back. Her tail flicks with excited at the prospect of seeing some action. "I'm always up for a challenge, so what say the two of us have a duel. I will be fair and not use any of my magical gear. Even a great warrior from the Callindor family should be given a fair fight."

Theresa strips off her amber leather boots, leaving her clawed feet bare. She hurls her magic daggers into the ground, choosing a pair of training weapons from a nearby chest. In an attempt to intimidate Luke, she spins the wooden blades in her hands, turning them into blurs at her sides. The only reaction from the young half-elf is a worried glance from her to Selenia and back again.

"Arrogant kitten," the headmistress growls under her breath. "Always ready to use your blades and your mouth. Your type always causes trouble."

"What was that, Ms. Hamilton?" Theresa asks with a toothy sneer.

"You heard me perfectly, Ms. Marley," Selenia sternly replies, crossing her arms. "I'm not going to watch this. I have a class to run and I doubt my students will learn anything from your fight. All I demand is that no major injuries are inflicted on my student." She turns to Luke to add, "Beat the kitty into the ground."

"I'll have her knocked before the end of class," Luke promises, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. No longer afraid of getting in trouble, he faces the calico and spins his wooden sabers. "We fight until one of us can't get up just like how my grandfather trained me."

The other students follow Selenia to the next training zone, but all of them keep an eye on Luke and Theresa. The headmistress snaps her fingers and coughs to get their attention. Only a handful of them listen because they see that their teacher has positioned herself so she can watch the upcoming bout.

Unknown to her students, Selenia could not care less who wins as long as the two warriors batter each other's pride. She has felt Luke's restlessness growing over the last few days. He has been wearing the face of a forest tracker who longs to return to the wild no matter how much he tries to hide his frustration. He is becoming a caged animal, which is dangerous to his classmates. Theresa does not help the situation with her open desire to fight either Luke or Daniel Skyblade.

After discussing her options with Kevin over breakfast, the former Mercenary Queen agreed that the best way to handle the problem would be to pit the two against each other. Inviting Theresa to watch the advanced swordsmanship class under the pretense of scouting potential knife-fighters was the easy part. The hard part was getting one of the warriors to challenge the other, but the young half-elf caused that event without much effort. Now, Selenia will subtly watch, making sure they do not kill each other.

"Ladies first, Ms. Marley," Luke offers, sliding into a fighting stance.

"Have it your way, boy. Try not to cry. I hate the smell of tears."

She does not bother getting into a stance, the calico swiftly getting in Luke's face. The half-elf barely sidesteps the quick slashes to his stomach, rapidly backpedaling and sidestepping to keep his footing. Theresa cartwheels to the side and darts behind her opponent, trying to hit him in the back. Her wooden daggers miss as he dives forward, landing on his toes and spinning to face the calico.

Luke can feel his ego deflate when he realizes Theresa is a lot faster than he expected. Her slashes are precise and quick enough that he has to concentrate on defending himself instead of attacking. Another slash at his stomach forces him to jump backwards, pushing his body out of her reach. Once his feet hit the ground, he pounces and attacks at the calico. One of his sabers swings down at Theresa's head while the other slashes at her chest. Neither attack makes contact as she blocks both swords and fluidly trips Luke with a spinning sweep to his ankle. He tosses a saber into the air, freeing his hand for a back handspring and catching the falling weapon.

Frustration plays across the young warrior's face as he vaults over a shoulder rush and barely ducks a kick to his head. He is kept on the defensive as Theresa lets her every move flow into the next, easily managing to block all of the half-elf's attacks. It is a fighting style similar to his own, but the daggers' shorter reach and the calico's speed give Luke less time to counterattack than he is used to. The inclusion of martial arts maneuvers gives the more experienced warrior another edge against him. Losing appears to be inevitable, but the forest tracker is determined to land a few hits and make his opponent admit he is a challenge.

Luke dodges a thrust at his chest and catches his opponent's arm. He is pulled against her and it takes all of his strength to keep her arm outstretched, struggling to flip her to the ground. As much as he tries to wrench her arm, Theresa flips and spins enough to prevent him from controlling her movements. With an angry hiss, she throws a few kicks that he manages to block with his legs. Out of desperation, Luke rolls backwards in the hopes of pinning the calico beneath him. He hears her shoulder pop out of its socket, but she twists it back in and flips both of them back to their feet. He can feel his arm start to give while Theresa circles him, gently spinning him in place.

"Enjoy the combat rush while it lasts because this match is almost over," she claims with a vicious yank to Luke's arm. "You may know about swords, but you don't know anything else, boy. Speed, steel, and reflexes will only get you so far if you don't add other styles into your repertoire. My style is all about close range and negating the power of larger weapons. I'll give you a chance to give up and save yourself from injury."

"Go kiss an ogre!" the half-elf shouts, pushing off the ground and soaring over her head. Still holding her arm, Luke twists in mid-air and can feel her shoulder dislocate again. This time Theresa bites her lip in pain and surprise.

Not letting up on his small success, he kicks at the calico only to have his other leg taken out from under him with a sweep. She quickly pops her shoulder back in as the half-elf flips back to his feet. They stand still for a moment, cautiously eyeing each other and gasping. Theresa rubs at her numb shoulder while Luke flexes his bruised, throbbing knee. Catching his opponent off-guard, the young warrior drops his swords and sprints toward her. She swings her dagger high, grazing his hair when he ducks under it and runs past her. He stops a foot behind her, starting a savage back kick as she turns around. Luke's confidence soars as he watches her face transform into an open-mouthed expression of shock.

"Luke!" screams a high-pitched voice.

A purple blur slams into the half-elf's stomach, the force of the impact rocketing him into a small tree. He hangs against the tree for an instant, eventually sliding down the rough, dented bark. He does not have to look in his lap to know Fizzle has rammed into him at top speed.

"Fizzle happy find Luke. Fizzle need help. Forest need help. Luke promise help Fizzle and forest. Why Luke not talk? Please say."

Luke can only whimper an unintelligible response, the half-elf slowly slumping to the ground. His gut aches from getting hit and his groin hurts from his legs being forced into a vertical split. Theresa heads toward the fallen student to check on him when Fizzle flutters into her path. The small dragon darts around her as she stops advancing on the injured forest tracker. With her tail nervously twitching, she puts her hands up only to realize that she is still holding the training daggers.

"You try hurt Luke. You no hurt him more. Fizzle stop you."

"Wai-" begins Theresa before the drite hits her in the face with a puff of rainbow mist from his nostrils. She falls to her knees, her eyes glazing over as she collapses. Luke watches her try to move, but her muscles are barely able to twitch.

"What is going on here?" Selenia asks, the gathered students immediately clearing a path for their teacher. Theresa makes strange hiccup-like noises, but she is ignored as the headmistress walks up to Fizzle.

"Selenia! Fizzle miss you!" the drite shouts, tackling the former mercenary. She rolls backwards, using his momentum to get back to her feet. Holding Fizzle by the scruff of his neck, she takes in the sight before her. Luke tries to stand, but a sprained groin muscle wracks his body with intense pain. Theresa mumbles incoherently about giant frogs and dancing centaurs, her dilated eyes frantically darting from side to side.

"Great. I have an injured student and a hallucinating instructor," Selenia mutters, rubbing her eyes. She clears her throat and orders her students into action. "You four will carry these two to the infirmary and return immediately. I want everyone else to keep practicing. Thomas will take over the sword fighting classes for the rest of the day. He will be here shortly with his quarterstaff students." She turns her attention to the drite. "You have some explaining to do, Fizzle."

The tiny dragon waits for the crowd to disperse before talking in his native tongue. "Two evil beings are in the forest. One is a Hellfire Elf and the other is a Lich. I believe it is your old enemy from the Caster Swamp. I could not clearly hear what they were talking about, but they killed the centaur guard who lived in the western quadrant. I barely escaped and had to take time to let the forest heal me. They pose a danger to your students and your academy. I do apologize for the late warning, but I came as soon as I could."

"My Dragonesse rusty. Me look in tonight. Duggan and Clarence sent. Lich always come back. We be ready."

"Not Duggan or Clarence. Send Luke and his friends out to investigate."

"No way!" Selenia exclaims in trade-speak. She is hit in the nose by a quick burst of rainbow mist, which immediately calms her.

"I heard them say that the Callindor might cause a problem," Fizzle continues in a low whisper. "He worries them and they are watching him. I would go so far as to say they are more scared of him than you. Send the youth out to see what he is made of and to see if there is something you missed about him. Both of us have thought there is something off about Luke Callindor being here. His presence might be for something other than training. I will follow to keep an eye on him."

"I hate it when you hit me with that stuff. One of these years I'll figure out what your breath actually does," Selenia complains as the effects of the mist wear off. "I agree about Luke. I've had a strange feeling about him since he arrived. There's no reason for Duke Solomon to send someone with his amount of skill to this academy. Even if the boy had won a tournament and made the request, the Duke would have known sending him here is a waste of my time and his money. The only things Luke is missing are hand-to-hand combat training, experience, and discipline. That boy needs a lot of discipline. He's a wild card and a magnet for trouble. That's why I don't like the idea of sending him into the forest."

The tiny dragon smiles tenderly at the headmistress. "I have yet to meet a young hero who is not a beacon for trouble. That includes you, Mercenary Queen. Need I remind you of your first adventure into the Caster Swamp?"

"Luke is my student and I must protect him."

"I understand, but this must be done," Fizzle insists, his voice hinting that he is getting tired of the conversation. "I will go with him to see what he does. If it makes you feel better, I will test Luke to see if he has been holding himself back. Trust me like you always do. We will get to the bottom of these questions and keep your academy safe."

The drite vanishes in a puff of smoke and Selenia can feel his weight push down on her shoulder where he invisibly perches.

Shaking her head in annoyance, the headmistress turns to three students sitting by the nearby dormitory. "You three! Find Aedyn Karwyn, Nimby, and Fritz Warrenberg. Have them meet me at the front gate. I'll be waiting there with Luke Callindor in an hour. Tell them to prepare for a small excursion into Visindor Forest. Move out!"

*****

"This makes no sense," Aedyn announces as the four companions leave the academy. He turns to look back at the gaping entrance where Selenia is talking to Kevin. "Am I alone in thinking that we are missing some facts about this mission?"

Fritz pats the priest on the shoulder as he rides by on Bessaria. "Actually, my moody friend, we don't have any facts. So, in reality there's nothing that could be missing since we don't have any information in the first place. We should be happy to get the chance to enjoy a real adventure and return as heroes."

"I would like to know what we are doing out here. Are you not curious?" Aedyn asks, stepping away from the gnome.

"Very curious, but I've learned patience in my old age," Fritz replies while taking a drink form a flask. He frowns at the taste of water with a hint of whiskey, the gnome wishing he could have real alcohol. "Selenia told us to meet Fizzle in the forest and investigate the area after he explains the problem. You can survive our short walk to discover the facts. After that, we can go on our small adventure and return to the open arms of women who adore rugged men such as ourselves."

"It's probably a few critters that wandered out of the Caster Swamp. Why else would you send a carpenter, a pervert, a priest, and a student to handle things?" Nimby chimes in before adding, "No offense, Luke."

"You seem distant, Luke. Is something wrong?" Aedyn inquires, falling back to where the warrior is trailing behind. He signals for the others to let the half-elves catch up, the priest worried that they will get separated already. "Are you worried about this assignment or your mission?"

"I don't know how to explain what's on my mind," Luke admits with a subtle shrug of his shoulders. His voice is whimsical as he struggles to describe his thoughts as clearly as possible. "Since this morning, all I want is to be among the trees right now, feel the tree-scented breeze on my face and listen to the birds like I did before I arrived here. I thought it was my wanderlust fighting against my, for lack of a better word, captivity, but it might be something else. I feel like . . . something is waiting for me in Visindor. Whatever it is, it wants me and only me. I'm sorry if this makes little sense to you guys, but I can barely make any sense of it myself."

"Looks like this is where you get sent back, Bessaria. Off with you," Fritz says as they reach the edge of the forest. He dismounts the sheep and gives her a smack on the rump, sending her trotting back to the academy. "It's probably nothing more than your wanderlust as you said. After all, you've been at the academy for a week without leaving to explore Visindor beyond the edge of the killing field. You have the morning run, but that might not be enough. You're becoming restless."

"I agree with Fritz," Aedyn says.

"Or your instincts are telling you that you're being hunted by an agent of this Lich for your intrusion into his plans," the gnome bluntly states, causing the priest to glare at him. Aedyn lightly knocks the gnome on the head with his staff. "But what do I know? I'm just the experienced genius of our group."

"Thanks for the talk, but we should concentrate on the assignment," Luke announces, a feeble attempt at a smile on his face. "I think Aedyn's right. Something doesn't seem right about all this. So, we should stop goofing off and work together."

The others nod in agreement, drawing their weapons as the forest tracker takes a step into the forest. His body becomes rigid and cold as if a giant, icy hand has wrapped around him. An acrid wind chokes him and he stumbles back against Aedyn, who steadies the warrior against a tree.

"Luke sense too. Strong evil in forest," Fizzle cautions the small group, appearing on a low tree branch. His face is worried and his scales have begun to lose their glossy shine.

Aedyn moves away from Luke and holds his staff before him. A toxic wind whips at the priest causing a pang of nausea to stir in his gut. He gently turns his weapon until one of its ends is a few inches from the ground and the other end is bathed in a narrow beam of sunlight. With a solid thump, he pounds the staff against the ground and sends a long wave of light into the distance.

The priest makes a low bow to the drite who imitates the action from his perch. "Hello, Fizzle. My name is Aedyn Karwyn. I sense there is an unnatural being in this forest and it is a powerful one. I believe your Lich is closer than you thought, Luke. Its power has corrupted the wind to the point where my minor cleansing spell did very little. Again, I do not understand why Selenia would send us after such a powerful foe. I may not be able to stand up to it and I know that the little ones are going to be useless."

"Hey! I'll show you useless, you robe wearing jerk! Take this!" Nimby shouts, kicking the black-haired half-elf in the shin.

The priest hops on one foot and bops the thief on the head with his staff. Not letting his guard down, he uses his weapon to keep Nimby out of kicking range. They stop when Luke clears his throat and gestures toward Fizzle with his head.

"Aedyn of sun? Fizzle happy meet. Child of sun right. Fizzle see demon elf too. Both in forest. Very bad face alone."

Fritz nervously laughs and pulls out his notebook to check his information. "Demon elf very bad? That's an understatement, Fizzle. Hellfire Elves are weak compared to other demons, but they're still deadly. They're stealthy and tenacious killers born with master level skill in every weapon. Their armor is their skin, so they feel pain from every blow. Instead of feeding off ambient magic like most demons, Hellfire Elves feed off physical pain. This means they get stronger the longer they fight and the more they're hit, which is bad since they start out as strong as an ogre and as fast as a calico."

Tucking his notebook away, the gnome pauses as a thought crosses his mind. The half-elves nod at each other, realizing they are thinking the same thing. It is Luke who turns their fears into words, his voice confused and worried. "Something is wrong if Selenia is aware of the demon and the Lich. We couldn't possibly face them without her by our side."

"She talked to you first, Fizzle," Nimby interrupts with a snap of his fingers. "Before she talked to us, you spoke with her, right? This means you know why the four of us were sent. So . . ." The halfling pulls out an apple and shakes it at the tiny dragon. "How about you tell us what's really going on?"

"He cannot be serious," Aedyn whispers to Luke in disgust.

"Apples not work on Fizzle," the drite claims, drool dribbling from his mouth.

"It's fresh from Betty's kitchen," Nimby says.

The priest grabs the apple and tosses it to the tiny dragon. "Let us act mature for once. We do not have to resort to bribery."

"Bribery between friends isn't a bad thing," the thief responds with a smirk.

Nobody notices Luke move further into Visindor, standing among the trees on shaky legs. He closes his eyes, letting the sour wind flow over him again. The world spins and he wants to retch, but he stops himself by focusing his senses on the area around him. There are no birds singing and he can barely pick up the scents of any wildflowers. The smell of rotting meat hits his nostrils at the same time he hears a faint cackle carried by the wind. The laugh chills the air to the point where Luke can see his breath.

"The forest is being murdered," he whispers, coming out of his trance. "The Lich is able to stay in the forest without hurting it, but he's purposely casting a weakening spell. I can't even begin to guess why he would want to do that. It brings too much attention to him considering Selenia is here. I wonder what he's after."

The drite lands on his shoulder and looks out into the forest. "This Fizzle home. Lich not after Fizzle or Fizzle home. Lich after Luke. Lich scared of Luke. Fizzle want Luke help. Lich run from Luke. That Fizzle plan."

"Whoa. Hold on," the young warrior sputters in protest, turning his head to come nose to nose with the tiny dragon. "I came here to protect a royal heir. I can't fight Chaos Void monsters and undead necrocasters. Besides, the Lich is only scared of my name. My name doesn't mean I can survive, much less defeat, these monsters. My skills are good, but I lack the experience and knowledge to handle something this dangerous. I only have basic gear and nothing potent enough to put down either of them. This is going to get me killed and that will get the heir killed."

He turns to leave the forest, but is stopped by Fizzle, who uses his tail to grab Luke by the ponytail. Aedyn and Nimby step in the forest tracker's way while Fritz gets behind him. Either way the forest tracker turns, one of them blocks his path until he stops trying. Luke refuses to make eye contact with any of them, concentrating on the distant academy where he knows the heir is hiding.

"You should have thought of this before accepting your mission. Now, you no longer have a choice," Aedyn says with a solid grip on his friend's shoulders. He forcefully grabs Luke by the chin, pulling the forest tracker's face up to meet his eyes. "These creatures are after the heir and you have chosen to stop them whether you are ready or not. I have heard you go on about wanting to earn your own reputation and not live off the fame of your family. All of us have heard it to the point where we know your words by heart. Now that you have a chance to be a hero, you are going to retreat like a coward? Let me reveal something to you that you do not want to admit, Luke Callindor. As much as you hate the attention you get from your name, it is the only reason you are here and the only reason you will ever get a chance to prove yourself. Most people have to fight for these opportunities or stumble upon them by the will of the gods. You merely have to state your name and you receive a mission of great importance. It is true that you abused this power to get here, but it is too late to change that."

"My family did not become famous for being stupid." Luke pushes the priest away, turning away from the academy. "These creatures will kill me if I face them."

Aedyn gives the warrior's forehead a gentle jab with an ink-blotched finger, leaving a smear of black on the skin. "Does it look like you are alone in this? We are going with you. My magic can keep you alive while the others can give you both magical and physical support in battle. This is the time for us to unite and we need you to lead us. Do not let your courage falter when you need it most."

"Aedyn the poetic priest is right, boy," Fritz declares, clapping the holy man on the back of the leg. "Sometimes you have to grab the minotaur by the horns and drag it to the ground to make your way in life. Course, a minotaur would be easier to handle than a Lich and a Hellfire Elf. That fact aside, I'll stand with you as long as I get first pick of the bar wenches during our celebration."

Luke shoots a sideways glance at Nimby, waiting for a similar declaration. The halfling shrugs and holds out his empty hands. "Don't look at me. I want to go home too, but I guess I should stick around if you guys are going through with this." The others glare at him, forcing the thief to continue. "Stop staring at me like that. No speeches or words of wisdom are coming out of me. I'm only here for the stories and the money. Maybe a few magic items too if I get lucky."

"Thanks, guys, but there's still the problem of being poorly equipped," the young warrior reminds everyone while rubbing his hands against the pommels of his sabers. "Fritz and Fizzle have their caster spells and Aedyn has his priest magic, but Nimby and I won't be able to do anything without magical weapons. I know regular weapons can be effective, but a warrior must be a lot better than I am to survive such a battle. I'm talking master level skill at least. Even a suit of durable armor or a minor protection ring would be helpful. It figures that those items are everywhere in Windemere, but you can never find one when your life depends on it. Anybody have any ideas?"

"Fizzle know cave. Magic in cave. Fizzle sense from here. Weapons and armor there," the drite announces as he leads the group further into Visindor. "Follow Fizzle."

Nimby pulls Luke aside and presses a palm-sized wooden sword in his hand. He reveals a matching wooden sword hanging from a string around his neck. "For good luck and in case one of us doesn't make it back. I promise I'll have your back as best I can, but I'm not that good at fighting. Good luck, Luke."

"Good luck to both of us," the half-elf replies, clapping the halfling on the shoulder.

*****

Several miles away from the academy, tucked within a dense collection of oak and birch, is a solitary boulder. Unlike the region's natural, dark red stones, the foreign gray boulder is painted to blend into the white and brown of the surrounding tree trunks. From a distance, the stone is barely distinguishable from the trees. The only sign the boulder is there is an occasional shimmer of reflected sunlight, which can only be seen at the right time of day and from the correct angle. Fizzle perches on a branch as his friends squeeze their way through the thick grove. Fritz gingerly puts his hand against the cool surface of the stone, a look of awe creeping across his face.

"The illusions on this entrance are incredible," the gnome marvels. He gently knocks on the boulder, the sound resembling a hand hitting metal instead of stone. "There's a door embedded in the stone, but it's masked to look like the rock. If you can see through the rock face spell then all you see is a locked door. The door illusion is interactive, so most people will keep trying to pick the lock. In reality, there's a gaping hole that you can pass through if you break the illusions. Course, if you can't see through them then you end up walking into what you perceive to be a metal door. Illusion spells of this caliber are rare. Only ancient casters and certain magical creatures could have made this masterpiece."

Nimby awkwardly clears his throat and rubs his eyes. "I still see a rock. Any suggestions on how I can get in, Fritz?"

"A flaw in these spells is that they depend on awareness. I've told you that this is fake, so you can follow me without seeing through the illusion yourself. It has to do with knowing that I'm real and trusting that I have figured out the trick." Fritz notices the halfling is still staring at the boulder and looking doubtful. "If it makes you feel better, I can hold your hand."

"Very tempted, but I have to be in front. We don't know if there are any traps in there."

"Fizzle keep watch. Not like stuffy dark. Good luck," the drite announces as he vanishes from sight.

"Draw your weapons and keep your eyes sharp," Luke tells his friends, trying to sound like he knows exactly what to do. "We don't know what's down there. I agree that Nimby should go first. Whoever put these spells up would have put some traps behind it and he knows more about traps than the rest of us. Take it easy and go at your own pace, Nimby. We'll be behind you in case something goes wrong. Not that we expect anything will go wrong. It'll just be safer for us that way. This speech isn't coming out right. Good luck, Nimby."

"The least you guys could do is stay closer than five feet behind me," the halfling nervously requests, watching Fritz step through the boulder. "Being too far ahead makes me feel like bait . . . helpless, terrified, out-of-his-element bait."

Nimby takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as he plunges through the illusion. He is still moving when a hand grips his shoulder, the ground beneath his right foot vanishing. The halfling opens his eyes to find Fritz pulling him back. Looking ahead, he sees they are at the top of a descending staircase with blazing torches set along the rough walls. The stone steps are finely crafted with barely any signs of use on them. A thick layer of dust is disturbed with every step Nimby takes. He covers his mouth and nose with his shirt to avoid inhaling the choking cloud, smirking when he hears Fritz cough behind him.

Trailing behind, the half-elves are unaffected by the low-hanging cloud of dust kicked up by their shorter companions. Still, it is a slow descent as they push thick, sticky cobwebs out their way. Luke feels his heart throbbing in his chest as he eyes the shadows for any signs of spiders and demons. A brief movement among the webs causes him to pause, relaxing when he realizes it is only a breeze moving the torchlight. Aedyn glances back at the forest tracker, hissing for him to hurry up. The warrior keeps his head low, ignoring the webs as he rushes to catch up to his friends.

"Your courage is astounding," Aedyn whispers.

"I have issues with spiders."

"Some forest tracker you are."

"I protect nature. That doesn't mean I have to like all of it. Besides, I have my reasons."

"I am sure you do."

"I had . . . an encounter as a child with giant spiders."

"This story can be told another time, Luke."

"That's really it."

"Oh . . . then, I apologize for teasing you."

The small group travels down the stairs for ten minutes before Nimby stops them. It is a wordless gesture with his hand that causes everyone to freeze. Holding his breath, the halfling straddles a step to examine it closely. Everyone gets anxious as he eyes the step with a level of seriousness they have never seen in him before. He slowly turns his head to look at the next step, gliding his foot along its surface, his toes pointing down the stairs. Using his hands, he tries to measure the suspicious spot.

"What is it?" Luke asks from the back of the group.

"This step is about an inch wider than the others," Nimby whispers, bending down until his nose is almost touching the floor. "It makes me think there's a trap here. The mechanics involved in a step trap tend to make the trigger step a bit bigger than the others. The problem is that I've seen traps like this before and they don't always do the same thing. Thankfully, all of them are set off the same way. It's a pressure plate and pulley system, which means we only have to hop over the trigger step to avoid setting the trap off. The person who set this up might have been a great caster, but they didn't have any imagination when it came to trap making."

"There could be more to it. Let me take a look," Fritz offers. The gnome straddles the step alongside his friend, causing a metal clink to come from the walls. Everyone holds their breath as the two steps that Fritz and Nimby are standing on sink into the ground.

"A false pressure plate flanked by two perfectly hidden plates," the halfling says with a crooked smirk. "Well, that's a nice twist to a classic. I'm very impressed"

A wet crash is heard from the top of the stairs and they can hear liquid splashing towards them. They cover their noses when a foul stench wafts down the staircase in front of whatever liquid has been released. Luke sheaths his sabers and Aedyn puts his staff over his shoulder, freeing their hands to each carry one of their diminutive friends. With the sound of flowing liquid getting closer, the half-elves break into a mad sprint down the staircase.

"Hey, guys! I know that smell! It's oil!" Fritz shouts, maneuvering himself onto Aedyn's shoulders. The gnome takes the priest's staff, making it a little easier for his friend to run down the stairs.

"What does that mean?" Luke replies, ricocheting off a wall when the stairs make a sharp turn to the left. He has Nimby tucked under his arm while his legs move as fast as they can. He hears Aedyn almost trip and fall down the staircase when he comes to the sudden turn.

"Not to make anyone panic, but oil is flammable!" Nimby shouts over the growing sound of rushing oil. "There are torches on the walls."

"By Durag's light, do not tell me such things!" the priest yells in a panic. "If you do not have any good news then please be quiet!"

Luke is so busy running that he is unable to avoid a step that is slightly darker than the others. He presses on it with all of his weight, making it sink into the ground. This time the torches turn upside down, spilling fiery coals onto the dusty ground. The staircase erupts into flames behind the small group as they struggle to run faster. They feel a wave of heat hit them from behind as the river of oil becomes a rolling torrent of fire.

"Take Nimby and run ahead, Aedyn! Maybe I can do something to slow the trap!" the forest tracker shouts. He turns in time to see the flood of flaming oil turn a distant corner. Like a liquid fireball, the blazing wave grows bigger and bigger, eating up the fiery coals as it gets closer.

"Care to repeat that idea, hero?" Aedyn asks with a nervous laugh.

"Maybe another time. How long are these damn stairs anyway?"

Luke makes a sharp turn and sees a sealed door looming ahead of them. He bursts into a flood of curses when he hits another switch and the door swings opens. The glitter of gold and gems nearly blinds him as a fresh breeze enters the stagnant tunnel. Roaring, the half-elf hurls Nimby at the opening, desperately hoping to get the halfling out of danger. He watches his friend land on the floor and roll into the room before turning to see where the others are.

"This is really bad!" Fritz urgently shouts. "Fire is attracted to areas that have a sudden intake of fresh air! Move faster, Aedyn!"

The priest barely notices he is passing Luke as he pushes his legs into a desperate sprint. He dives through the opening, turning in time to see the roiling fireball charging down the stairs faster than ever. It licks at his heels as the half-elf hurls himself through the doorway. Unlike the others, the young warrior has no time to jump behind anything before the fireball bursts into the chamber. The flames roll along the floor and ceiling for a few minutes, dying when the door snaps shut.

"Luke!" Nimby yells, looking out from behind a pile of gold. He is surprised to see the warrior lying on the floor. The half-elf's blonde hair is singed at the edges and smoke rises off his clothes, but he looks otherwise untouched by the inferno.

"How in all of Windemere did you survive that?" Fritz asks. He scrambles over to the warrior, who is getting to his feet and patting himself down. "There's no way an unprotected body could withstand a fireball of that magnitude. Don't get me wrong. It's good to see you're alive, boy, but I don't get it. Your survival doesn't have any support from nature and you lack the magical ability to protect yourself."

"I don't know, Fritz. I closed my eyes and it felt like the fire was pushed away by something," Luke answers, drawing his swords again. The look on the gnome's face begs him for a better explanation. "It was like some kind of . . . wind bridge carried the flames over me. I could have sworn I was going to die, but I'm fine. So, let's finish what we came here to do and get to our real mission."

"Maybe he's immortal," Nimby whispers into Fritz's ear.

"Then, why does he keep ending up in the infirmary?"

"I didn't say he was good at it."

The gnome sifts through the gems and gold with extra attention given to any rings or necklaces buried within the piles. "I think Cessia is smiling on our young friend. He must have fallen where a strong air current was set up to protect the owner of this place. Even the trap setter needs a failsafe in case they set off their own traps. I do hope that's the worst of what we have to deal with down here. My old nerves can't take too much more."

Aedyn softly chants a spell as the others blindly search the piles and racks. His eyes turn gold as he walks over to a suit of armor, the priest meticulously examining the glowing platemail. He wanders around the room, checking specific items while the others sit back and watch. The priest turns to them and stops when he peers at Luke, who is examining a ruby necklace. Aedyn shakes his head, making a sharp hand gesture to end the spell. He rubs at his eyes, facing his friends with a look of disappointment.

"Most of the weapons are minor magic items with either enhanced durability or a small elemental charge. There are a few protection rings and healing items scattered about the piles. They are nothing to get excited about," the priest reports. Out of mild curiosity, he picks up a few coins and drops them into the pile at his feet. "I find myself wondering why this cavern is here since it has enough gear for a small army. All of these weapons have been made in the last twenty years, so it is not an ancient stash. It also means the magic in these items is fresh and not as potent as older weapons would be."

"Could they help us?" Nimby asks.

"Their magic is too weak to harm a Lich and would only be minimally effective against the Hellfire Elf."

Luke gently bangs his saber against a suit of platemail, the echo bouncing off the walls for a few seconds. "Not to mention all of the gear is unsuitable for our skills. For armor, this place only has heavy suits and a few scraps of chainmail. If any of us tried to wear this stuff, we would be slowed down to the point of uselessness. The swords are two-handers, rapiers, and longswords. I prefer my sabers to these types. Everything else is either an axe or a polearm, which none of us are trained to use. This gear is better suited for soldiers than us, so I guess this was a wasted trip. At least we made it here in one piece if not a little singed."

"And it showed we can work as a team too. That's a plus," Nimby adds, tucking a few coins into his pockets.

"Couldn't we have played a sport instead of this? It would be healthier and I wouldn't be having nightmares about becoming roasted meat," Fritz says, a loud rumbling from his stomach making him blush. "Now that's something I could go for. Beats the healthy slop we get three times a day. I should talk to Selenia about letting the staff have a real meal once a day. The special weekend meals are simply not enough."

"I always wondered what roasted gnome would taste like. Guess after you ask her, I'll get to find out," the halfling jokes, sticking his tongue out.

Aedyn hits the floor with his staff, fixing everyone with a stern scowl. "Can we please get out of here? There might be more dangers that our constant talking will awaken. We should go before trouble finds us again."

They start to search the wall for a door switch when a suit of platemail rattles off to their left. His senses on edge, Luke hears the faint sound of something moving among the coins to his right. He looks in time to see a slender shadow disappear behind a pile of gems. A third noise comes from the back of the chamber when a tower shield topples over, the clatter echoing for a few seconds. Everyone draws their weapons as the room goes eerily silent.

"There are three things moving around us," the forest tracker whispers as he scans the chamber. "I'd say at least one is waiting for the attack before it makes a sound. That would mean four threats minimum. The shadow I saw was low to the ground and I didn't see any legs. It must be some kind of snake or worm creature."

As if on cue, the creature lurking on Luke's right blasts through a pile of coins and tackles the forest tracker. Its long, muscular body wraps around him as the humanoid face dislocates its lower jaw. The half-elf can see poison-dripping spines rise out of the monster's back. He nearly screams when a sharp pain strikes him in the fleshy part of his neck. The creature's spiked tail weaves in front of his face, his fresh blood on the first inch of the tip. His vision blurring, Luke can feel a slow poison working its way through his system.

"Snake fiends!" Nimby shouts, leaping onto the monster's head and stabbing into it. He slides down its side, letting his dagger rip a long, deep gash into the scaly flesh.

Green blood gushes from the wound when the halfling's dagger tears through two of the monster's five hearts. Its blood pooling under its coils, the snake fiend releases Luke and collapses to the ground. It lets out a bellowing hiss and four more creatures burst from their hiding places. Nimby raises his weapon to stab the injured one in the face, but he has to roll away from the charge of another. He curses when he sees the injured snake fiend quickly slither into a hole in the wall.

"Watch my back, Fritz!" Aedyn yells, muttering a spell.

Fritz casts his own spell, creating multiple Aedyns that run in every direction. Two of the snake fiends lunge at one of the illusions, violently colliding with each other. Another monster lunges at the gnome, who stumbles away from the spiked tail that sticks into the stone floor. He stomps on the tail and has all the Aedyns converge on the solitary snake fiend. One of the other beasts attacks the swarm of illusions, its spike stabbing through the throat of the surrounded creature.

"Don't mess with gnomes. We're smarter than you," Fritz declares, casting a spark of light in the eyes of the nearest snake fiend. It screeches in surprise, falling back against a suit of armor that crashes on top of it. "I forgot how much fun fighting monsters could be. Though I think I'm forgetting the downsides of pain and exhaustion."

Across the chamber, Nimby dives into a large pile of coins, burrowing through as a snake fiend follows him. Emerging on the other side, the halfling weaves in and out of a weapons rack and knocks it over before the hungry creature can untangle itself. He prepares for a killing blow when the monster releases a poisonous mist from its pores. Holding his breath, Nimby retreats to where Luke is twitching and gasping. He gets there in time to stop a snake fiend from stabbing the poisoned warrior and the halfling desperately pushes against the tail, his legs starting to buckle.

"I'm not strong enough to hold it off for much longer. Cast your spell, Aedyn."

A green light passes from Aedyn's mouth to the puncture hole in Luke's neck, the warrior's body relaxing immediately. The black blotches around the wound disappear and the skin knits itself together. The injury is nearly healed by the time the warrior is on his feet, swinging at the snake fiend that is trying to swallow Nimby. Its head tumbles across the chamber with a single slice and Luke bounds after the other monsters.

"I think he's angry," Aedyn says with a grin.

The priest turns around and feels a fist hit him from the shadows. He lands hard against a large shield and slumps to the ground. Nimby looks toward the sound as a rough rope wraps around his neck and yanks him into a pile of gems. To his right is Fritz, who has already been knocked out.

"Hey! Luke!" the halfling yells. He is kicked in the face and falls to his knees, holding his aching jaw.

The young warrior is unaware of the new danger as the remaining snake fiends attack. He leaps over one of the monsters, landing blade first on its hooded head. To make sure it's dead, the half-elf spins off of it, letting his sword cut half of the snake fiend's face off. The last monster shies away from the forest tracker, slithering back into the shadows.

"Too bad those weren't the real threat," states a familiar female voice.

Luke whirls around in time to deflect a punch and retaliate with a kick to his assailant's stomach. Next thing he knows, his leg is locked in the crook of a powerful arm and he is flipped to the floor. With a growl, he tries to get to his feet, but a savage kick hits him in the side and sends him rolling onto a pile of sheathed longswords. Groaning in pain and anger, he glares at Selenia, who is standing over him and pressing her foot against his throat.

She reaches down and yanks him to his knees. Another punch to his face knocks him back as she says, "You four to my office. Now!"
10

Selenia's office is the only room in the academy that neither student nor teacher is allowed to enter without being summoned. The room is considered an academy legend, but most students believe it must exist. Her office is rumored to be hidden by secret passages and illusion spells that cannot be found anywhere else on Windemere. Like most gossip, these rumors are nowhere near the truth. In actuality, her office can only be accessed through trapdoors located in the ceiling of the administrative building's second floor. Kept closed by magical seals, the odd squares are explained away as entrances to a third floor that Selenia removed from the building plans at the last minute. This explanation is further supported by the lack of handles on the doors, the real ones hidden by intricate illusions. None of the students know that the hidden office, which has been dubbed the Silent Void, is above their heads while they sit in class.

Smooth stone walls and magic lighting give the office a cozy atmosphere. Circular windows, magically hidden from outside view, give Selenia a view of the courtyards. Visitors would be very comfortable, if not for the enormous head of a Sword Dragon. The monstrous trophy takes up most of the wall behind the large desk, the beast's face forever locked in a hideous snarl. Its metallic skin still shines as it did when it was killing people in the countryside. On the other side of the desk from this trophy sits Luke, patiently waiting on a wooden stool instead of one of the plush chairs that are scattered about the office.

"Those snake fiends took me years to catch and tame," Selenia tells the young warrior as she calmly circles him. "I've lost three of them to you and your friends. Maybe four if the one that poisoned you doesn't pull through. I will admit that I'm proud that a small group of my employees and students were able to get through my security measures. It still doesn't get your asses out of the fire. I want to know exactly why you were down there instead of investigating Visindor like I told you to."

"What's the point of telling you? You're still going to be angry and I'm still going to get in trouble," Luke says as he rises to his feet. "Let's cut to my punishment, so I can get back to class."

"Don't start, boy. I could easily make you tell me, especially since your friends are not here to help you," the headmistress warns him. She kicks the forest tracker in the back of the knee, forcing him back onto the stool. "Keep in mind you were sent to me by a sponsor, not by your family. That means I don't have to play nice with you. Sponsors rarely complain if I'm too rough with their investment. So, tell me what you were up to or you'll be in the infirmary for a week after I'm done with you."

Luke avoids her gaze and taps his fingers on his leg. Sweat forms on his forehead as he gradually gets annoyed with the headmistress. He realizes that he has to be careful if he is to keep his mission a secret. Selenia would be a powerful ally, but his orders required that she stay in the dark. On the other hand, she could be serious about putting him in the infirmary. With the Lich being seen in Visindor, Luke knows he cannot risk being put out of action for any length of time. He finds his thoughts wandering to the possible identity of the heir until Selenia coughs angrily, the headmistress standing behind him. He stares at the Sword Dragon trophy and regrettably decides that it is time to lie again. A look of relief washes over him when Kevin opens one of the trapdoors, awkwardly pulling himself into the office. Luke turns to see Aedyn getting help from the old warrior, the priest making sure his robes do not get caught in the entrance.

"I hate these blasted things. A pain in the ass to get through and you can't always rely on the illusion net to hide people when they leave. Put in some hidden stairs for my sake, woman. Ah, what's the point of arguing with you?" Kevin rants, taking the large seat behind the desk. He reaches out and strikes a spark off the Sword Dragon to light his pipe. "Aedyn is willing to back up Luke's story and add in anything that occurred while the kid was poisoned. I also believe he might be needed in case you can't keep your temper in check. Get anything out of the ringleader yet?"

Selenia storms over to the trophy to buff the scratch out. "Nothing yet, but I think he's willing to talk. Be quiet unless we need you, Aedyn. No offense, but I'm not in the mood to deal with a priest right now."

Luke finally stands up and goes to the window. He traces a few random marks on the sill before explaining, "Fizzle told us there was a Lich and a Hellfire Elf in the forest. We didn't have the equipment to deal with such creatures. So Fizzle told us of a cave with magical weapons inside and we went to get them. We had no idea it was your weapon stash that we were breaking into. To be honest, I would have done it even if I knew it was your stash. Maybe if you had told us about the dangers in the forest, we would have asked for the gear instead of trying to steal it."

"The boy's got you there. I'm really starting to like him," Kevin laughs, his pipe falling on the desk.

"You would. He reminds me too much of you and Daniel, old man," Selenia declares, her eyebrow twitching. "I suppose you expect me to apologize and admit I made a mistake. Well, that isn't going to happen in this office. You acted entirely on impulse and ignored my orders. For that, I should . . ."

The forest tracker gets in the headmistress's face before she can finish. "You should what? I'm not a soldier or a member of your mercenary group. I'm one of your students and I did what you trained me to do. You're the one who taught me teamwork and you put me in charge of a team. So, I acted like a leader just as you would have wanted. So, what do you plan on doing now that I disobeyed you for the sake of my team?"

Selenia clenches her fist and moves to hit Luke when Aedyn pulls his friend back to the wooden stool. A quick spell calms the forest tracker and the priest makes sure to stay between the two warriors. Kevin lights his pipe with the trophy again, which causes Selenia to give the grizzled warrior an angry stare. She receives a middle finger and a wide grin from the old warrior as he contently puffs on his pipe.

"I am sorry, Ms. Hamilton. Luke is still angered by nearly dying twice," Aedyn softly says, keeping his staff at the ready. "I agree that he was only doing what he thought was right. I believe you would have done the same in Luke's position, but you will never admit that in front of him. I ask that both of you put your egos and pride aside for now. We have a Lich and a demon to worry about."

"We don't have a Lich and a demon to worry about," Selenia declares while holding up her hand to silence the younger half-elves. "I have them to worry about. You two and your pint-sized friends will be confined to the academy for the next four days. You will only be allowed to leave for the morning run or if your class is meeting in the killing field. That Lich is no longer your concern."

"Over my dead body!" Luke shouts, breaking his friend's spell and leaping to his feet. The priest puts a hand on his friend's shoulder, but it is angrily shaken off. "That thing is my responsibility and I'm not going to let you take him from me!"

Kevin puffs on his pipe and curiously eyes the young warrior's flushed face. "The job we gave you wasn't important enough to make a personal quest out of. Mind explaining yourself, boy?"

"Do not do it, Luke," Aedyn urgently whispers.

"Sorry, Aedyn, but this is going to happen whether I talk or not."

"It is your decision and I will stand by your side. Good luck."

"I didn't win a tournament to get sponsored for a semester," Luke confesses, keenly aware that neither of the veterans look surprised. In fact, Kevin flashes a smug grin while Selenia remains stoic. "I was sent here by a messenger of Duke Solomon to protect the royal heir from this Lich. The plan was for me to pretend to be a student in order to watch the heir. My assignment was supposed to be a secret from everyone, but the messenger lost the scrolls that would tell me who I was protecting. So, I asked Nimby, Fritz, and Aedyn to help. The reason I didn't go to either of you was because it might have tipped off the Lich that I was here to stop him. Any change in the academy environment could have given me away and put the heir in danger. So, I kept my mouth shut and spent my free time trying to find this person. That's why I was found in the shed with Kira, who I thought was the assassin."

"Shed?" the headmistress asks, looking at Kevin.

"Nothing," the grizzled warrior assures her as he refills his pipe. "She was pulling a seduction prank on the boy. I already had some words with both of them about it. She's been very apologetic and keeps asking if Luke is still mad at her. That's not our business, though. My point is that it was nothing more than a prank. I'll explain more to you later, Selenia. Remember to prioritize."

"Excuse us, boys. We have to privately discuss everything Luke has told us," Selenia says, her temper barely restrained. "I don't want you to eavesdrop. Take a seat, Mr. Karwyn. This might take a few minutes."

Aedyn sits in a plush chair while Selenia and Kevin talk by using sign language. Luke stays near the window as the veterans fluidly speak with their hands. He quickly gives up attempting to decipher their conversation and looks for something to keep himself occupied. He turns to Aedyn who shrugs and continues writing notes on a scroll. Luke can hear him softly chanting, a sure sign that he should not be disturbed.

Minutes pass before Selenia clears her throat, turning to the young men. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't angry about your deception, but it does explain why you're here. As I told Fizzle, something about you didn't make sense, Luke. Your level of skill alone made it hard to understand why you remained in my academy. I would expect someone like you to get bored and leave after a day or two. I was assuming your pride and ego were forcing you to stay. I wish this was the case because you've put me in a difficult position, Callindor. As the headmistress and founder, I swore an oath to do whatever was needed to keep my students safe. On those grounds, I should take control of your operation. Yet, I understand what it's like when you get your first adventure. It's a learning experience that classes can't begin to compare to. So, I will allow you to continue without my physical interference. The moment it becomes too much for you, I will step in. Like the Lich, I will be watching you closely."

Aedyn hands the scroll he was working on to Selenia, the priest silently bowing and heading for the trapdoor. He nods and waves at Luke, but he does not say anything. He carefully opens the trapdoor, bunching his robes before awkwardly climbing down the ladder.

Luke turns back to the headmistress and notices Kevin is gone, the click of another trapdoor the only sign of his departure. "I still don't understand how the Lich found out about me. I was so cautious and careful when I was in Visindor. All I can think of is the timing of my arrival was suspicious."

"According to Fizzle, the Lich and his demon are concerned about a Callindor being in the area. Hellfire Elves can disguise themselves so well that magic can't always sense them, so it has probably been disguised on academy grounds. That is how they know about you," Selenia explains while reading Aedyn's scroll. She abruptly glances at Luke, fixing him with another gaze. "Watch out for yourself. The Lich sees you as a threat big enough to risk a confrontation with me, so there's something special about you. Even Aedyn thinks you might be more than any of us realize. His magic sight spell blinded him for a second when he looked at you in the cavern. He claims your aura was intense, but immature. I'm sending his report to an old friend in order to get a more experienced opinion."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about," the forest tracker says, walking to the trapdoor and opening it. "Right now, I have an heir to protect. I trust you'll stay out of my way when the time comes."

"As much as I hate to stand by and watch, I will let you handle this," she promises even though every scrap of honor is screaming at her to lock the younger warrior up for his own good. "Always remember that I'll be watching and I'll get involved if I have to. My oath to protect my students includes keeping you alive. Even heroes need help and you're not a hero yet, young Callindor."

Saluting the headmistress, Luke silently drops through the trapdoor. Selenia remains in her office, going back to reading the scroll. Looking at the ceiling with a tired sigh, she seals the scroll with blue wax and puts it in the Sword Dragon's open mouth. A twist of the left fang causes the scroll to disappear in a flash of light.

"May Uli's strength be with you, Luke. You're going to need it."

*****

"I take it things did not go well," Aedyn guesses, approaching the large tree in which Luke is gloomily perched. The forest tracker is stretched out along a thick lower branch, his right leg dangling in the air. He mindlessly kicks and swats at the small archery targets that hang from the tree.

Luke continues gazing at the sky as he half-heartedly requests, "Leave me alone."

"Very well, but I brought someone to cheer you up," the priest claims with a friendly smile that seems out of place on his face.

Aedyn gently whistles and Stiletto bounds around the nearest dormitory. The noble shepherd whines when he notices his best friend is staying in the tree. Determined to stay in a bad mood, the forest tracker tries not to look down at the happy dog. Stiletto gets frustrated and leaps up to where the half-elf's leg is lazily hanging. He misses the first time, giving Luke time to realize what his four-legged friend is trying to do.

"Wait. Don't do tha-" starts Luke as his four-legged friend catches him by his pant leg. The full weight of the dog easily yanks the half-elf from the tree. He crashes in front of his friend, the dog greedily licking at his hands and face.

"Feeling better?" Aedyn asks with a chuckle.

"I didn't take you as a man with a sense of humor."

"I keep my emotions to myself in order to be taken seriously. It does not mean I am uncaring toward my allies," the priest says as he takes a seat on the grass. "You were upset in Selenia's office, even after she promised to leave you alone. I am sure the pressure to succeed is growing with all of these eyes watching you. Anyway, they say forest trackers are happiest when surrounded by nature or with a trusted animal. So, I guessed Stiletto would be better than any healing magic or wisdom I could provide. It is what an ally would do, I guess."

"Do you mean ally or friend?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Of course there is. An ally is one who helps you in combat and quests. A friend is there in any situation," Luke explains, scratching Stiletto behind the ears. The noble shepherd pants gleefully before flopping onto his side. "To be honest, I tend to think of friends as allies and allies as friends. There's a stronger bond between friends in combat because an ally sounds too much like a resource. It's a cold word when you think about it. So, I guess I don't see any difference between the two."

"You defeated your own argument."

Luke grins sheepishly, the warrior feeling more like himself every second. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice that. Though, I'll admit that some people can be considered more ally than friend."

"You mean people like Selenia. I can understand that. She is not the type to be friends with her students."

"A better word for her would be mentor. It's a type of ally, only you admit to their superiority."

"You sound smart and insightful."

Luke shrugs while he scratches Stiletto's belly, stopping the wildly kicking legs from hitting him in the face. The noble shepherd gleefully pants and growls, causing the priest to crack a smile. An impish smirk crosses Luke's face as he leans over and whispers in the dog's ear. With a happy yelp, Stiletto scrambles to his feet and rushes the other half-elf. Aedyn is barely able to get his hands up in time to stop the charge, but the weight of the animal knocks him on his back. A series of mild, gurgled curses erupt from the priest as his face is covered in slobber.

"You are a mean and sadistic man!" Aedyn exclaims, managing to push Stiletto's face away.

"This coming from a holier-than-thou jerk who uses backhand compliments when cheering someone up," Luke retorts, enjoying the priest's angry scowl. He snaps his fingers to get Stiletto to sit, the dog's wagging tail batting the grass. "He seems to like you, which is strange. He doesn't take to strangers very quickly unless they have food on them. At first, I thought it was because you had my scent on you, but it wouldn't be potent enough to get him to follow you out of the stables. Do you have experience with animals, Aedyn?"

"You ever meet a person who is trusted by everyone?" the priest asks, cleaning his face with a yellow handkerchief. "You don't know why, but something about this person puts you at ease. What am I saying? Of course, you know what I mean."

"I know what you're talking about, but I don't see how I should know so easily," the forest tracker admits, curiosity growing in his eyes.

Aedyn's face changes to a stern glare. "I guess that was not an act in Selenia's office. You are entirely ignorant of your abilities and influence. Even Stiletto seems to know more about your talents than you do."

"Great. A lecture about my potential from a holy prodigy."

"A holy prodigy?"

"You're a year younger than me and you're already a field agent of your temple. That position typically takes ten years to achieve unless a person is born with great potential," the forest tracker answers, unsure if he insulted the other half-elf. "Also, you must have powerful magic if the threat of a Lich doesn't cause you to wet yourself. I'm betting you took to your temple training like a dragon takes to the sky."

The priest holds back a laugh of derision as he calmly says, "You are the last person to talk to me about being a prodigy, Callindor."

"My last name doesn't define me!" Luke childishly snaps. The two half-elves get to their feet while Stiletto cocks his head, staring at the foolish boys.

"People are defined by every aspect of their lives, which includes the family they were born into. The fact that you do not want to accept the fame that comes with your heritage does not erase it from your life," Aedyn lectures in a burst of frustration. He takes a deep breath to regain his control and lets his irritation fade away. "In regards to my previous comment, you cannot deny that the gods bless you and your kin. Every generation of Callindor has the spirit of a warrior, taking to combat like, as you put it, a dragon takes to the sky. Those who do not become warriors become masters of something else such as storytelling and blacksmithing."

"I don't deny what you're saying," Luke argues as he crosses his arms. He lets them drop to his sides when he realizes that his pose could be seen as confrontational. "All I'm saying is that I don't want my last name to be all that defines me. Do you know what it's like to be treated like a hero before you can walk? People toasted to my legacy before I ever held a sword. Nobody should ever be satisfied with that kind of fame."

"You ramble and whine a lot, but I see your point," the priest says, settling back down on the grass. "Is it safe to assume that you feel like people have always expected great things from you without asking about your desires?"

"Sounds about right," the forest tracker admits, gracefully dropping into a crossed legged position. Stiletto trots over to put his head in Luke's lap, closing his eyes as his head is massaged.

"I think you're far too passionate about earning your fame, Luke. It is getting to the point where you get frustrated discussing it."

"Can you blame me? I lost count of how many amateur jobs I was denied because people thought a Callindor was too good for them," the blonde half-elf explains, choking down his brewing rage. "Then there are the fake friends hoping to be seen as important by association. The world is filled with people who define you by your heritage and how that heritage can help them. That's why I left home. I was sick of it all and I couldn't stand it for a minute longer. All I needed was Stiletto, my sabers, a satchel of food, the clothes on my back, and the open road. That's all a real forest tracker needs." The dog looks up at him and whimpers. "Except for Stiletto. He's unique to me. No offense, boy. Not every forest tracker has a loyal friend like you to travel with them, even though it should be a necessity."

Aedyn mutters under his breath and a soft glow envelopes his entire body. Luke listens as the priest's voice grows louder with every word. At the shrill height of his prayer, a beam of sunlight rises into the sky, splitting a passing cloud. The small show of holy power is over within a minute and the priest takes a deep, cleansing breath.

"What was that for?" Luke asks, staring at the sky.

"It was a simple prayer asking Durag to grant insight into yourself and discover your true path," his friend replies, a brief halo appearing around his head. "You can be the one to choose if such a prayer helps you or if whatever happens is by your own hand. Personally, I feel better knowing I did my best to aid you in your time of confusion. I will admit that the light beam was for show and entirely unrelated to the actual prayer."

"I didn't ask for that," Luke states, unsure if he should be angry or thankful.

Aedyn sighs and taps the warrior on the head with his staff. "If a priest waited to be asked for help by those without physical injuries or diseases then we would die waiting. I have come to realize that prayers for future success and clearness of mind are never in demand. It is always healing injuries, curing diseases, and destroying undead. It is similar to your life where everyone expects certain things from you because you are a Callindor, but they ignore things that only Luke can do."

"I have to remember that one. People have expectations because I'm a Callindor, but they ignore the path I walk as Luke. I like it," the young warrior says with a grin. "Thanks for the insight and for bringing Stiletto to me. You're a good ally even though I seem to get you into trouble. So, what did you mean by me being ignorant of my own potential?"

Aedyn takes a minute to think and scratches his smooth chin. "You only concentrate on how well you can fight and none of your other skills. The use of a weapon is necessary to be a warrior, but it is obvious that you do not want to be a simple warrior. If you wish to earn, or even surpass, the fame that comes from being a Callindor then you must become more than a swordsman."

"Like what?" Luke inquires. A yelp catches his attention when he accidentally grabs Stiletto's skin too hard. The noble shepherd growls, turning around and knocking Luke over with a powerful kick from his hind leg.

"That is not for me to point out," the priest claims with a friendly smirk. "Besides, the current Luke Callindor should be man enough to find his path to becoming the legendary Luke Callindor without the help of a simple priest."

"Nobody said I wanted to be legendary."

"If you are going to prove yourself then you should want to go all the way."

"That goes without saying."

"Then, why make me say it?"

"You didn't have to."

Aedyn laughs heartily, wiping a tear from his eye. "I noticed you refused to deny my comment about me being a simple priest."

"You're further along your path than I am, so you know you're more than that," Luke replies while gently turning his hand as Stiletto licks his fingers. "Besides, I already called you a holy prodigy. I should think that Durag wouldn't want you to get a swelled head from me complimenting you too much."

The half-elves laugh together as they get to their feet, Luke struggling to push Stiletto off his lap. The dog pins him down, moving only when Aedyn whistles and snaps his fingers. The warrior growls when Stiletto steps on his face, leaving a paw print on his forehead. He spits the dirt and grass out of his mouth, the taste of paw making him shudder.

"You never answered my question about my potential, Aedyn," Luke points out before wiping his face with a rag.

"I believe I did, but it was before you asked the question. Think back with your bards' memory and you will see what I mean," the priest says, ignoring the forest tracker's exasperated sigh. "Now, I have my duties to attend to. Please take care of yourself and do not take your confrontation with Selenia as a bad omen. You proved your strength and courage against the snake fiends. Then, you stood up to Selenia and she let you keep your mission. Be happy with those victories and prepare for your next battle."

Aedyn extends his hand toward Luke, pulling the warrior in for a friendly hug. He slaps the blonde half-elf on the back, releasing the embrace and taking a step back.

"Ally, huh?"

"You, Nimby, and Fritz are the first true friends I have had since I began my priestly training," Aedyn admits, fixing his sleeves and wiping blades of grass from his robes. "Here is some parting advice, Luke. You are not the only one in this world whose reputation is determined by lineage. Open your eyes and you will see how common your plight of identity truly is. Now, try to stay out of trouble for the rest of the day."

"I make no promises," the young warrior declares, flashing a charming smile.

Chuckling and smirking, Aedyn nods to his friend and bows to Stiletto, who awkwardly mimics the priest. A curious look crosses his face as he whistles a hymn and wanders back to the teacher dorms. The song echoes throughout the academy and seems to enhance the midday sunlight.

"We've definitely made some interesting friends around here, Stiletto," Luke whispers, picking up a stick near his foot and tossing it. The dog stays where he is, looking up at the half-elf with his head cocked to the side. Luke groans as he goes off to get the stick, bringing it back to hand it to the proud animal.

"All these years and you still don't play fetch," the half-elf jokingly complains. He is unable to be annoyed as his friend leaps up to lick his face. "Well, time to give you a run around the inside fence then back to the stable. Don't look at me like that. I'd keep you out longer if I didn't have things to do . . . and if you wanted to play fetch."

Stiletto growls and snorts his disdain for the suggestion.

"It's a simple game that all dogs play. You have no reason to hate it. Don't give me any barking about splinters."

*****

To avoid the inevitable argument between Luke and Selenia, Nimby has decided it would be much better to relax outside the wall and wait for things to blow over. However, the halfling did not expect to be waiting for so long. It has been close to two hours since he has seen any of his friends or heard word of Selenia being at her classes. Worry seeping into his mind, he tires of his yo-yo tricks and wanders around the killing field. Nimby stops at the western wall when he hears an occasional grunt followed by a dull thud.

Following the sounds, he is surprised to find Kellia hurling twenty-pound spheres of metal. The halfling watches as she repeatedly throws the dull gray orbs roughly thirty feet then goes to gather them in one trip. Her clothes are drenched in sweat and she looks like she is about to collapse as she picks up the heavy projectiles.

"Shouldn't you be with your friends while they get chewed out by Selenia?" she asks as he gets closer. The toned student hurls an orb and watches it land thirty-seven feet away with a distant thud.

"I took the wiser option of sneaking away and letting Luke deal with it. Besides, I'm allergic to accepting blame for my mistakes."

"Good for you," Kellia blandly mutters. She switches arms and hurls an orb sixty feet, her other arm hanging limp at her side. "Now please leave me alone. I'm trying to practice."

"It looks like you tore something in your shoulder. Those types of injuries seem to be the most common this semester. Although, that's better than the semester of broken ribs when a barbarian was teaching boxing," Nimby says, hoping to get a smile from her. He fails to get a reaction and shrugs, resigning himself to the role of concerned instructor. "Guess it's time you stopped and went to the infirmary."

Kellia slumps against the academy wall, sliding to the ground while pulling an amber potion off her belt loop. She chugs it and shivers as the magic slowly repairs her shoulder. The sweat evaporates from her body and her ebony hair emits the invigorating scent of fresh rain. She tucks the empty bottle back into the loop and stands to practice some more. Flexing her stiff shoulder, she decides to let it rest for a few more minutes.

"Never practice without a rejuvenation potion or two," she advises the halfling, patting the empty bottle. "My father sends me a case once a month, so I'm fine doing this kind of workout. Now, will you leave me alone or do I have to make you leave?"

Kellia flashes Nimby a threatening expression when he glances curiously at the heavy orbs and strokes his chin. She growls as he ignores her, but the noise fails to get a reaction. Accepting that she cannot get rid of him, she focuses on completing a set of single arm push-ups. Her eyes never wander from the halfling, who continues watching her.

"How can a farmer afford potions of that caliber?" Nimby asks, running a hand through his curly hair. "Healing potions are cheap, but rejuvenation potions are far too expensive for common people to buy in bulk on a monthly basis. For a farmer's daughter, you sure get a lot of special treatment."

"My father gets paid in potions by Duke Solomon," Kellia claims, stopping her workout and pushing herself into a squat. "We supply his army with milk, meat, and vegetables. We get three cases of medicinal potions per week thanks to that agreement. Not all farmers are poor and struggling."

The halfling nods his head in agreement and pulls his yo-yo out to do some tricks. "Very true. Guess Duke Solomon isn't as bad as I've heard if he's willing to give expensive potions to farmers."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Everyone loves Duke Solomon because he's very generous," she argues, a sudden fire burning in her sapphire eyes. "I've heard he is rather forgetful and uses the temples to help him decide political matters. Yet, every leader in history has had a few faults and religion has always had a hand in politics. Nobody wants to anger the gods, so there isn't any reason Duke Solomon should be any different."

"Those eccentricities are not what I'm talking about."

"He's a good man and everyone in his kingdom has only praises for him. Nobody has any reason to speak ill of him."

Nimby snorts before muttering, "None of the big people, anyway."

Kellia grabs the halfling by his hair and picks him up so that he is at face level with her. Her voice is a furious snarl as she asks, "What's that supposed to mean, Nimby?"

"He's an incredible bastard toward small folk like gnomes and halflings," the curly-haired thief explains, slipping out of her grasp and rubbing his sore scalp. "Duke Solomon takes credit for Gnomish inventions and makes sure there are no powerful halflings in any of his favored cities. The best one of my kind can hope for is to become a high priest because the Duke can't prevent upward mobility in the temples. This is why so many halflings in the kingdom of Serab are thieves, bards, and sailors. None of them have any kind of political power even though there are cities where halflings outnumber elves and humans. These facts are obvious if you listen to the local lore. The kingdom of Serab is entirely racist against anyone shorter than a dwarf."

Kellia's cheeks flush as she stares open-mouthed at the halfling. She picks up a metal orb and hurls it as far as she can, but it still does not calm her down. Nimby can hear her faintly counting to ten as the dust settles around the distant orb. Her whispering seems to have less effect than her violent throwing of the projectile.

Still shaking with fury, the young woman whirls to face the thief. "You lying halfling! Duke Solomon is a good man and would never treat anyone like that unless they deserved it. This is one of your stupid pranks to get under my skin, Nimby. Racial issues like this are not something to be made fun of and I will have no part in this insulting debate."

"Face it, Kellia. Duke Solomon is nothing more than a bigoted, money-loving jackass who would sooner shake a hobgoblin's scabby hand than give even a single coin to a starving halfling child," Nimby contends, a cruel smirk crossing his face. "We should all be lucky that he passes away soon."

His smirk vanishes when Kellia lifts him off his feet by his shoulders and spins around with him. The force and speed of her movement increases with every turn, the young woman's gaze locked on the academy. Nimby tries to yell as she screams and hurls him over the defensive wall as if he is one of the metal orbs.

"Never talk about my father that way again!" she hollers as he sails into the academy.

As he plummets, the halfling laughs with pride at finding the heir. His only regret is that he did not think of this plan when Luke was around to hide behind. The roof of the Orctooth dormitory stops his descent and he finds himself tumbling along its wooden planks. With a final bounce on his head, Nimby sails off the roof and falls toward the ground. Panic sets in when he sees a swift shadow dart underneath him, the halfling fearing Selenia is waiting for him below. He barely makes out Luke's face as the forest tracker ricochets off the academy wall and catches him in mid-air.

"Why can't you enter or leave through a door?" the half-elf asks as he gracefully lands. He grabs some fallen leaves and presses them over the bleeding bump on Nimby's head. "How did you fly over the wall?"

"I found her, Luke. I know who the heir is. Let me show you who it is," the halfling rambles, his vision violently swimming. His excitement gets the better of him and he scrambles out of the warrior's arms. As soon as his feet touch the ground, he collapses to his hands and knees. "Windemere spinning. Gonna vomit. I think I need Aedyn."

"Don't tell me he got caught in the girls' locker room," Fritz jokes as he joins them. "I knew I shouldn't have told him about my peeping spot. Now, I have to find another way to entertain myself. You always have to ruin things for the rest of us, Nimby."

"He's got a concussion and a very bad head wound. I'm taking him to the infirmary," Luke replies, gently picking his friend up again.

"Wait. You have to protect Kellia. She's the one we've been looking for. Even worse, she's alone and most of the senior staff haven't been seen all day. This is the perfect time for the Hellfire Elf to strike," the halfling says as the forest tracker walks away with him. "You see, I got her mad and she hurled me over the wall, but I found out that she's Duke Solomon's heir. She's over that wall in the killing field. I swear I'm telling the truth, guys. I really don't feel so good."

Luke stops and turns to Fritz, a worried expression on his face. "Even though Kellia wasn't on our list, we should check his story. She isn't even a first year, but maybe that was a lie they fed the messenger. She might be acting strange after dealing with Nimby, so we can get some answers from her without much trouble. I'll meet up with you once I get our friend here some medical attention. Good luck with her. If she did this to Nimby for talking, I can only imagine what she'll do to you for hitting on her."

The gnome bows low and pulls a yellow flower out of his pocket. "Trust me, good sir. I shall be on my best behavior. Nary a woman alive can resist the charm of Fritz Warrenberg for too long. We'll be waiting for you, but I can't promise she will keep her hands off me."

Luke rolls his eyes and makes his way toward the infirmary, moving carefully to avoid jostling the injured halfling. He stops when Nimby vomits on his shirt, the half-elf's eyes wide and his stomach churning.

"Son of a! That's disgusting! It's going to take me a little longer to meet up with you, Fritz! I need to burn this shirt!"

*****

"What do you want? Are you going to pick up where your friend left off?" Kellia snaps when she sees Fritz approaching.

"I don't plan on getting you angry," the gnome promises, puffing out a few simple rings from his pipe. "Is it true what Nimby told me? You're the daughter of Duke Solomon and the future leader of Serab. Definitely the last person I would ever consider as a future ruler, but who am I to judge?"

Kellia takes a deep breath, letting a small smile cross her face. "My father says the same thing. The royal court doesn't understand me and I know many of them wish I were a boy instead of a girl. They claim it would explain why I like fighting and why I don't act like a proper lady of nobility."

"I guess nobles don't like tomboys. You know, I'm more than willing to let you explain yourself. Why do you act the way you do?"

"I guess since you and your friends know the truth, I might as well spill the rest to clear your questions. Though I'd rather speak with the priest," she says, her voice becoming distant and wistful. The young woman scans the area to make sure they are alone and she patiently waits for the sound of a student on the other side of the wall to fade away. "My mother was the first wife of Duke Solomon. Unknown to the masses, she wasn't a noblewoman or even from Serab. There's a kingdom in the Cerascent Isles where friendly giants live. My mother was a descendant from the union between a human merchant and a one of their female warriors. So, she was the size of an average woman and had the strength of a giant. She was one of the island's strongest hunters." A few tears appear in the corner of her eyes and she swiftly wipes them away. "My father met her when he was traveling Cerascent to renew old trade pacts and treaties for my grandfather. They fell in love, she returned with him to Serab, and they married soon after he ascended to the throne. Ten years later, she died giving birth to me. I was told so many stories about her that I began acting like her. None of the refinement lessons tamed me, so my dad sent me here to learn restraint and discipline. He said that if I couldn't be a proper lady of nobility then I could at least learn how to become a disciplined woman of strength."

"Why not let Selenia and the other teachers know who you are?" Fritz asks, tucking his pipe away. He whispers into the wind and the smoke rings stick to his body, each one glowing a dull red.

"Simple. I'd get special treatment, which I'll get enough of when I become the Duchess of Serab," Kellia explains with her back to the gnome. She packs away the metal orbs and wipes her brow, shaking the sweat off her hands. "If they knew who I really was then the teachers would be so careful with me that I'd never get what I want out of this academy. Besides, it's a pleasure to be myself and not be looked at as the heir of Duke Solomon. It isn't like I'm in any danger here anyway. I have a bodyguard hidden in the academy and my father only told his most loyal advisors about my attendance here."

His strength increased by the magic smoke, Fritz tackles the heiress to the ground and an arrow passes through the space her head occupied a moment ago. She scrambles backwards as the gnome turns to see the Hellfire Elf sprinting out of the forest, the demonic assassin swiftly crossing the killing field. Fritz is unable to cast a spell before he is savagely kicked into the academy wall. The impact of his body creates a deep dent in the wood where he passes out. Drawing its sword, the demon faces Kellia, who makes a quick dash to get away. She fails to notice the long arrow sticking out of the wall, the young woman slamming throat-first into the projectile and collapsing to the ground.

"Stay away! Don't come any closer! Somebody help me!" she screams, ignoring the pain caused by talking.

"You will be dead before any help arrives," the Hellfire Elf snarls, lifting the Chaoswind above its head and moving to slash down at her.

Kellia closes her eyes and wishes she had been a more refined daughter for her father. She prays for all the gods to send her back to Gods' Voice, but she knows her death is about to happen. In what she feels is her final moment, she simply hopes she dies quickly and with as little pain as possible. Her silent prayers and thoughts are broken by a stiff breeze carrying the scent of fresh vomit.

The shriek of metal sliding on metal rings in her ears and Kellia timidly opens her eyes to see two blades crossed in front of her face. The Chaoswind pushes against them, only to be gradually shoved back. She looks up to find Luke standing above her, fighting with all his strength against the demon. The half-elf's legs are braced against the academy wall for extra leverage, his flexing muscles straining and quivering. With a roar, the forest tracker twists the assassin off-balance and shoulder rushes it in the stomach. The Hellfire Elf stumbles back with a leering grin, giving Kellia a chance to scramble out from between them.

"Run and hide! I can handle this thing!" Luke shouts while his enemy cracks its neck. The heiress faints where she is as the half-elf rolls out of the demon's path.

"Good. I would have hated to hunt her down again after I kill you," the assassin growls as it swings the Chaoswind at Luke with terrifying force and speed. "Your death will be one of my greatest triumphs. I can end the Callindor lineage and be praised by my master and my kin."

The clanging of swords echoes throughout the entire killing field. Every impact sends Luke skidding backwards or the side, his arms barely able to handle the force of the attacks. The half-elf attempts a quick strike, but he is forced to turn the motion into a parry when the demon comes close to slicing his leg. The more he has to defend himself, the more Luke realizes this might be death staring him in the face.

"I shall enjoy eating your heart!" the demon roars, its armored hands glowing from the joints as it strikes down at Luke.

The creature is infuriated when Luke dives out of the way of the attack, rolling between its legs. A ten-foot long gash sears the ground, slowly filling with a bubbling stream of lava. The Hellfire Elf turns to face the forest tracker, showing off its sharp teeth with a sadistic sneer. Both combatants know that the younger warrior's courage is faltering and doubt is snaking into his heart and mind.

"I'm not done yet," Luke says with a shaky voice.

"You are lying, mortal."

The Hellfire Elf taunts its enemy by dropping the Chaoswind to its side. Luke bellows as loud as he can before he charges, repeatedly slashing at the demon's exposed throat. Every attack misses as the assassin effortlessly moves backwards at the same speed the young warrior advances. It does not take long for Luke to get tired and a single swing of the Chaoswind sends both sabers flying out of his hands. He leaps away, but another upward slash cuts him diagonally across his torso.

Luke immediately falls to the ground, screaming in agony. The wound is shallow, but he can barely breathe through the burning pain that he can only imagine would be like having dragon fire injected into his veins. His terrified eyes focus on the Chaoswind, which hums mockingly at him. The thought that this is not how adventures are supposed to end crosses his mind, but it never makes it to his lips before his body goes into violent spasms. The grass around the forest tracker becomes trampled and covered in blood that splatters out of the wound as if his body is rejecting it. A surge of determination courses through the half-elf's body, urging him to struggle to his hands and knees while the demon watches in malicious awe.

"You can still move?" the Hellfire Elf asks in disbelief, taking a cautious step back. "Nobody of goodness can withstand the strike of a Chaoswind. That foolish caster must have given me a false blade."

"This isn't . . . over," Luke groans, trying to rise to his feet. The effort is wasted as he collapses in his own blood. His eyes close as he watches the assassin walk towards Kellia, its blade held high.
11

Luke's eyes open to the soft glow of a flickering candle on a wax-covered table. He gingerly touches his left shoulder, following the scar from the Chaoswind to his right hip. It takes him a few minutes to recognize Aedyn's voice chanting by his head. The young warrior lacks the energy to move his head and get a look at the priest, but it is a mild comfort to know the Hellfire Elf did not finish him off. He feels his strength steadily return and after another hour of his friend's chanting, the injured half-elf is able to prop himself against the cold wall of the infirmary. It is a difficult movement since his legs are numb and his arms feel like every muscle has been shredded.

Kevin's voice from outside the door breaks the silence. "Don't yell at the boy. He's been through enough. I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did against that thing. He might not even be awake."

"He better be awake. I have a lot to discuss with him," growls Selenia, barging into the room. The intrusion causes Aedyn to stop chanting and he leans back in his chair to rest, his eyes barely open.

"How are you feeling, Callindor?" she asks as Kevin closes the door behind them.

Luke reaches for a glass of water sitting on the table and takes a long, sloppy drink. He tries to talk, but his mouth is too dry and he has a horrible taste in the back of his throat. All he can do is hack and cough as he drinks more water once a nurse refills his cup.

"You're lucky Aedyn, Theresa, and I were coming out to see what was making so much noise. We arrived as you went down. Unfortunately, the Hellfire Elf escaped before we could get to it," the headmistress calmly says. She turns a chair backwards and straddles it, leaning her arms on the back. "Now, when you're able to talk, I'd like to find out what the hell you were thinking. Fritz was out cold for hours, you have been on the verge of death for two days, and the entire academy is going on about demons. It's a mess that I expected you to avoid."

"Don't pay her much mind, boy," Kevin reassures the injured student with a smile. "We've all been worried about you. Your charge was in danger and you jumped in to save her. That's what any of us would do. I mean that when I say any of us . . ."

"Don't coddle him, Masterson!"

"This ain't coddling. This is being honest and he did what either one of us would have done in that situation," the old man explains, putting a strong hand on her shoulder. She attempts to shrug his hand away, but he grips her harder and forces her to relax. "It isn't as bad as she makes it out to be, boy. The students are more concerned about you and Kellia than they are about a demon attack. Some of them are even looking forward to another attack because they believe it'll give them a chance to show us what they're made of. Though, I don't think they'll have long to wait. It's been quiet for the past two days, but that could change at any point. Now, let the boy recover and we'll see what can be done about this mess, Selenia. Both of us have papers to file."

"What happened to Kellia?" Luke asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"She was unharmed. More scared than anything else," Selenia responds, smacking his companion's hand away as soon as his grip loosens. "I have her in a hidden safe house. We've decided to take her out of danger since the Lich is aware of her identity. It isn't a decision for you to argue about. Kellia will be safer with me than out on academy grounds with you."

"It's my responsibility to take care of her," the young warrior insists, dragging himself to the edge of the bed and trying to stand up. Aedyn moves to help him, but he manages to steady himself with a tight grip on the small nightstand.

Selenia's voice is surprisingly soft and maternal as she approaches her student. "This is out of your hands. I told you I would intervene if you lost control of the situation. This is my academy and I won't have you putting my students in danger because of an unwarranted sense of pride. You can't stand up to the Hellfire Elf again. It was only luck that helped you survive the first encounter."

Aedyn stamps his staff on the stone ground to get everyone's attention. He looks very tired and it is obvious that the brewing argument is annoying him, his typically calm face marred by a dark scowl. The priest takes a few deep breaths, hoping to gather more of his strength before he speaks in a raw and strained voice.

"Luke is fortunate to be alive. I will submit that as my professional opinion . . . but he will not learn anything by you taking his mission away. This is a school and I believe it should be a place of learning before anything else. Luke is learning how to handle an adventure without depending entirely on others, even if they are stronger than him. Through this, he will discover his strengths, his weaknesses, and his limits. You can protect Kellia if you like because it will make things easier for us." Aedyn holds up his hand to stop Luke from arguing. "Wait until I am done before you say something, my friend. I believe the problem of the Hellfire Elf and the Lich should be left to Luke. I believe he can win if he is not distracted by protecting someone other than himself."

Selenia grits her teeth, but does not say anything. She glares at Kevin, who is grinning at the way she has been stopped in her tracks. With a stiff nod toward the younger half-elves, she storms out of the infirmary like she has somewhere better to be. Kevin chuckles as he slaps Aedyn on the back. The blow nearly knocks the exhausted priest on his face, so the old warrior helps him sit down.

"Only a handful of people in history have been able to subdue that woman with words. Welcome to the club, Karwyn," Kevin good-naturedly announces. He takes a few seconds to observe the tired half-elves, eventually smiling with pride. "Now, you two take care of yourselves. I've got some special preparations on top of my usual workload. Duggan needs my help making extra weapons and armor in case the situation takes a turn for the worse. Your classes have been suspended until this is over, Luke. Concentrate on the important things then worry about graduating. Meanwhile, I have to take care of the paperwork caused by you and this demon. When did my retirement become more work than my time as a handsome, legendary mercenary? Damn kids and their secrets."

The young men are silent as Kevin leaves them in the infirmary. It does not take long for both of them to collapse. Aedyn slumps in his chair, letting his staff clatter to the ground. Luke falls back onto the bed, rolling onto his side and letting his strength gradually return. He goes back to mindlessly stroking the thin scar on his chest, noticing that it destroys most of his crossed swords birthmark.

"I was not kidding, Luke. You are very lucky to be alive," Aedyn declares, adjusting his robes and posture to get comfortable. "The weapon that you were struck by was a Chaoswind, which was forged from dark ritual sacrifices known only to demon summoners. The priesthood of Zaria has sworn to destroy every one of these weapons that exists. The followers of Durag have promised to aid them in this hunt. I never dreamed I would have a chance to accomplish one of the great deeds of destroying such an evil weapon. My superiors will be very pleased with my report even if I simply mention its existence."

Luke manages to whisper through his sore throat. "What do these weapons do that make them so dangerous?"

"There is a demon's essence encased in the weapon and this energy seeks to engulf any living aura that it comes in contact with," the priest explains, taking a deep breath to clear his fuzzy vision. "The purer a person's aura, the more pain the weapon can cause as the demon essence tries to consume them from the inside out. Luckily, the longer that someone lives, the less pure their aura becomes, which means they are not as effected by the weapon. We believe the weapons are more about agony than death, but many who seek them do not realize this. I apologize that I could not get rid of all of the damage. That scar will never heal."

"At least, I still have all my limbs and organs," the warrior states, picking up a long bundle that is sitting by the window over his bed. "What's this?"

"A gift from Nimby, I believe. I do not know what it is. I must go to my room and get some sleep. I have been chanting for two days straight to help you recover. If we are going to finish all of this soon then I need to be at my best."

"Thanks a lot, Aedyn. I owe you one."

"I merely do the work of Durag. Get some rest," the priest humbly says, getting to his feet and slowly heading for the exit. "And stay out of trouble until I recover."

Luke unwraps the package and smiles at what Nimby has left for him. Even in the dim candlelight, he can see the slender tail spike of a snake fiend. The half-elf rewraps the trophy, placing it back on the windowsill before lying down on the cot and dozing off.

*****

Kellia grinds her teeth as she sprawls on the soft, four-post bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. A small table with two chairs sits against the wall, directly across from the only window in the room. On the table is a finely crafted chess set, which is frozen in the middle of a game where black is destroying white. Not interested in chess, Kellia's collection of weights and boxing manuals now litter the floor around her bed. She has already grown bored with them now that she has been kept in the room for days.

"There has to be a law against this kind of treatment," she groans, stretching her arms. She rolls off the bed and wanders over to the circular window where she gently blows on a small sapphire embedded in the wall. A hazy shimmering appears as the window opens without revealing itself to the outside world. Kellia enjoys the warm air, taking a deep breath and watching her classmates below. The heiress notices the priest leaving the infirmary and smiles when he stops to pat Stiletto on the head. The noble shepherd has refused to leave the entrance to the infirmary even when Selenia attempted to move him.

Kellia turns away from the window, leaving it open to air out the room. "That mutt must want to gnaw my throat out."

"Why?" asks a childish voice.

"Who's there? I'm a dangerous person."

"Fizzle too."

"Fizzle? I remember you. You showed up to breakfast with Luke once," Kellia says, her body relaxing and her heart returning to its normal rate. "I've heard stories about you from the teachers and older students too. You're the drite who lives in Visindor Forest and mooches apples off the academy. Until this year, I've always been somewhere else when you appeared in the cafeteria."

She searches the room, hoping to find the invisible creature. Whenever she stops moving, she hears the sound of fluttering wings. Her heart is racing as she prays that it really is the friendly drite and not a cunning minion of the Lich. Her nerves on edge, she reacts on instinct when a small form lands on her head. Screaming, Kellia throws the creature at her bed and backs away, gasping for air. She is still catching her breath as the purple-scaled figure of Fizzle materializes against her pillows. His body is upside down with his tail curled far enough over his body that it touches the top of his head.

"That un-nice," the drite whimpers.

"So is landing on a hunted girl's head without showing yourself. Be thankful I didn't put you through the wall."

"Fizzle apol . . . apple . . . sorry. Fizzle not mean scare."

"Then why are you here?"

"Check Kellia."

"What's to check on? I'm incarcerated in a room defended by trapdoors, false doors, minor wards, and illusions. People outside can't see me unless they're a powerful caster like you appear to be," the heiress complains as she rises on shaky legs. In exasperation, she throws herself onto the bed, narrowly missing Fizzle. "The only positives to all this is that I get out of classes and I'm not being held responsible for any homework I miss. Not that any of my classes have homework since I chose all physical courses this semester. Well, there is Fritz's class, but that's a lost cause. If anything, I'm bored out of my mind and slowly going insane."

"That bad. So, why Luke dog hate you?"

"Luke nearly died trying to save me. He had no reason to save me given all the times I've broken his nose and called him names," she answers, struggling to remain calm. A surge of sadness makes her breathing quiver and she clenches a pillow until the feeling subsides. "On top of that, for all my talk, I ended up freezing when it came time to fight. I'm no warrior and this proved it. I'm nothing more than the tomboyish heiress who is responsible for Fritz being hurt, Aedyn exhausting himself, and Luke nearly getting killed."

Fizzle gently flutters over to her shoulder, cautiously landing. "Yes. You to blame."

"Yeah."

"So Luke. So Fritz. So Lich. So father. So Selenia. So demon. So Fiz-" continues the drite until Kellia gently closes his mouth with two fingers.

A spurt of rainbow smoke bursts from his nostrils, hitting her in the face. She immediately lets go of the drite and rubs at her eyes, the room awkwardly shifting around her. The walls appear to melt while skeletal hands worm their way out of the floor. One of the bedposts shatters to reveal a black, serrated blade that flies toward the heiress. A pair of explosions over her head draws her attention to two sabers slamming into the black sword. The phantom weapons batter each other, sending showers of sparks onto the bed and floor. Kellia curls into a ball, hoping the vision will disappear when her eyes are closed, but the sound of metal on metal continues ringing.

"Make it stop," she pleads, feeling the skeletal hands grab her limbs. A high-pitched squeal causes the illusions to crumble into harmless, rainbow dust.

"Fizzle sorry," the drite says while being hugged tightly against Kellia's chest. He licks at the tears that fall on his face, shuddering at their saltiness.

"Even my hallucinations believe it's my fault."

"They not right. All to blame. You only one fac . . . fact . . . thing," Fizzle explains, scrunching his face in frustration. "Luke choose save you. That Luke fault. Demon choose hurt you. That demon fault. Kellia choose sleep in fight. That Kellia fault."

"I didn't fall asleep," the young woman mutters, her heart feeling heavy with shame. "I fainted. That's worse considering I'm here to learn how to be a warrior and a leader. Neither of those roles allow for locking up in terror and passing out when you're needed."

Fizzle pats her on the head with his tail, imitating the gesture he has seen the students do when one of their friends is sad. "All freeze when young. Luke freeze in forest during secret visit. Fizzle save from spider. Wait! That secret. No tell Luke."

"There are giant spiders in Visindor?"

"No. Spider this big," the drite replies, making a circle with his tail that is no bigger than a baby's pinky toe.

"He dove into a fight with a demon, but needs to be rescued from a tiny bug," the heiress says, laughing loudly. "That can't be right."

"Why not? Everyone is afraid of something," states a voice from the doorway. Kellia looks up to see Theresa Marley walking in with a tray of cookies and a teapot full of water. The calico is dressed in leather armor with daggers strategically placed around her body. Licking her lips, she pulls out a red dagger and places the tip against the teapot. A burst of crimson light from the weapon causes the container to whistle urgently.

"I know, but it doesn't mean that it makes sense. Spiders are harmless."

"Fear is not supposed to make any sense. If it did then we could easily rationalize it away whenever it appeared," Theresa kindly explains, laying across the foot of the bed. She rolls onto her back and stretches so that only her head and feet are touching the mattress. "Your reaction to the demon was entirely natural and probably saved both your life and Luke's life. After all, Luke showed no fear and ended up in the infirmary with Aedyn casting constant healing spells on him. If you had joined in the fight and been injured by the Chaoswind then a choice would have been made as to who should be saved. Aedyn wouldn't have been able to heal you both. To ease your mind, you would have been the one to live because you are Duke Solomon's heir. A kingdom's future takes precedence over a heroic lineage. So, tell me, heiress, would you have felt better if Luke had died saving you instead of being hospitalized?"

"That's ridiculous since it didn't happen."

"Then stop acting like it did."

"Luke alive. Luke learn. Luke go on," Fizzle happily interjects.

"I suggest you do the same, your highness. You have many protectors at this academy whether you like it or not. It'll be the same when you assume the throne, so you must get used to it," the calico says with an edge to her voice. "Now, I'll be having unexpected guests in my room within the hour. I trust you'll behave until my return."

Kellia glares back at the instructor. "Why are you so angry at me?"

"Lady of many teeth mad at self," the drite blurts out.

"So to speak," Theresa admits, hissing at the tiny dragon. He scampers under a pillow, leaving only his snout and the tip of his tail sticking out.

"So, you're annoyed at yourself and you take it out on me," the heiress snaps, her former attitude returning to her words. "Aren't people like you supposed to be role-models for my generation?"

"It appears you're becoming your old, smart-mouthed, sass-spewing self. To think I lost sleep over a cocky novice performing my job for me."

"To be fair, your expertise is in mortal assassins and thieves. Neither of us expected a Hellfire Elf," Kellia politely argues, her concern for the calico growing. "Don't beat yourself up over it or I'll have to hire someone for you to defend me against to make you feel better. I can't have my bodyguard moping about in self-loathing while I'm trapped in a secret wooden box. I think we can all agree that you arrived in time to scare the demon off and stopped it from killing anyone."

Theresa bows as her expression softens. "You're very kind and forgiving, your highness. I shall return when my business is concluded. Keep her safe and make sure she finishes her tea, little lizard."

"Yes, teeth lady!" Fizzle hollers from under the pillow. He crawls out once the calico closes the door and the sound of her footsteps fade away.

"I'm going to bed, Fizzle. You don't have to stay here if you have somewhere else to be. It isn't like anybody can break in," Kellia claims, lying down and closing her eyes. She is surprised when she feels the blanket get pulled out from beneath her and draped over her legs.

"Fizzle sleepy," the drite yawns. He curls up next to the heiress, who gently puts her arm around him and falls asleep.

*****

The courtyards are filled with the sounds of students shouting and the banging of wooden weapons. To a casual visitor, it is as if the incident with the demon never happened, but even the least aware member of the faculty notices a change in the atmosphere. There is an undercurrent of curiosity and tension among the students. Many of them have been cluttering the walkways to watch the carpentry class fix the damage to the wall. Some of the braver students have even tried to sneak into Visindor Forest during night hours. With classes still in session, the population of Hamilton Military Academy go about their business, but when the distractions are gone, everyone's curiosity is palpable.

Daniel Skyblade has noticed that none of the students are focusing on their classes. Some, he can tell, are thinking of their families and friends. Others are worrying about what might be lurking outside the wall. A few might even be plotting an attempt to track down and fight the Hellfire Elf. Thanks to his time with warriors of all kinds, Daniel can tell what is going through the immature mind of a student by their slightest twitch. Although, there are a few students even the nobleman cannot figure out.

"Class dismissed!" Daniel calls out to the distracted students. "I know we're ending early, but a lot of you aren't into this today. Anything I teach you will be forgotten once you put your equipment away. So pack up and get some rest."

He watches as everyone packs their gear and walks off in various directions. Many of them are heading for the wall, causing the seasoned warrior to frown. The preparations being made have been slowed by all the traffic on and around the fortifications. Even with the bellowing of Kevin and Duggan, the youngsters continue to sneak into the area. Daniel is sure that he will be called on to handle the situation unless Selenia gives in to the dwarf's request that he can take a hammer to all trespassers. Sighing at the thought of more work on his vacation, the nobleman turns his attention to a solitary figure lying under a tree.

"Are we feeling any better, Lady Grasdon? You took a solid hit to your ribs," he says as he approaches the resting student. "I only hope that minor healing potion helped. You should still get yourself checked at the infirmary."

Kira rolls over to turn away from him. "It hurts a little when I breathe."

Lord Skyblade arches his eyebrow as he sits by her head, letting a few seconds pass before talking. "Is something on your mind? You seemed very distracted during class today. I will admit that you're not one of the best students in your year, but it was very obvious that you were mindlessly going through the motions. Are you scared about that demon?"

"No. I'm safe as long as I stay in the academy."

"Then, what is on your mind, milady? I promise not to tell anybody if it's something you're embarrassed about. I'm not a true teacher, so telling me that you broke a rule will not get you into trouble."

With a new tinge of sadness in her voice, Kira whispers, "Do you truly swear not to tell anyone?"

"On the trade agreement I have with your family, I promise not to repeat what you tell me here," he gently declares, holding his fist to his chest. "What did you do wrong?"

The young woman sits up and pulls her knees against her chest. She sniffles a little, wincing as she feels her tender ribs ache. A few tears have streaked down her face, leaving salty paths leading to her chin.

"I've been thinking of something for a while now. I was able to ignore it before, but then some . . . things came up," Kira whispers, blushing slightly beneath a curtain of black, sweaty hair. "I kind of have a crush on someone here. He's very unique and special, so I don't think he'd give me the time of day. He probably doesn't even know I exist. Okay, he obviously knows I exist, but he probably wishes we never met because of an . . . incident or two."

"I never thought I would hear a Grasdon say those words, especially a member with your looks," Daniel admits with a tender laugh. "Let's walk and talk. Too many prying ears can stumble into this place."

He gets to his feet and bends down to help Kira to stand. She winces again when she takes a deep breath, stumbling against Daniel. He waits for her to regain her balance with the help of a practice staff before they silently walk around the edge of the academy. They stop near the eastern wall where Kira leans against an equipment shed. The bronze-skinned girl gingerly lets her hand trace random patterns on the side of the building.

Eventually, she gulps down her anxiety and says, "Every member of my family has their fortune told when they turn thirteen. It's been a tradition since my ancestor formed the Grasdon Merchant House in response to a reading of his fortune. Well, I had my fortune told and it led to me being sent here once I turned eighteen. I was told the keys to my true destiny will be found at this academy. At the time, it sounded like a bunch of superstitious nonsense to me. It still does, but I think I found someone I want to know better. A person like me who might be one of my keys."

"I don't follow," Daniel apologetically admits, running a hand over his head. "You come from a politically powerful family while almost every other student comes from farmlands, small villages, or the street. In terms of geography, you're the only student from Bor'daruk. Lady Grasdon, you are a rarity here."

Kira lets out a sigh before continuing, "The person doesn't have to be from the same type of family, but from the same kind of life. Both of us are famous and have expectations placed on us because we were born into our specific families. People always want me to behave like a rich heiress and subdue any improper thoughts I might have. This places me in the roles of spoiled brat or obedient noble, which are nothing more than interchangeable masks. I can only assume this is what all children in my position have to cope with. Yet, it becomes an obsession for some of us to prove ourselves as individuals."

"The life of those born wealthy is easier than most, but they still have problems. Even if the problems sound like nothing more than illusions designed to give one the idea of suffering," the nobleman says, struggling to follow his companion's logic. He notices her wringing her fingers and shifting her feet, which confuses him even more. "As a man who rose from very little, I would think such expectations are easier to handle than poverty. What does this have to do with you being distracted today?"

"I want to get this guy to notice me," Kira admits in exasperation since she is unused to being overlooked and is having trouble coming to terms with the situation. "See, he lives with the same amount of expectations that have been put on me. They are different types of expectations, but they are equally difficult to cope with. The problem is that he's so obsessed with getting to where the world expects him to be that he doesn't notice me. Although, I haven't really tried to talk to him and it might be too late. Now, he'll be even more obsessed with his path."

Daniel pulls out a long pipe and smokes, considering what the young woman has said. A few birds land on the shed and sing, leaving when the rings of pipe smoke get too close. Kira slides down the rough side of the shed, balling up on the ground like a wounded animal. The action seems overdramatic, but the nobleman remembers witnessing outbursts from his peers when he was a teenager.

"I guess you're talking about the Callindor," Daniel finally says.

"I'm sick of hearing people call him that," Kira declares, an unexpected surge of anger in her voice. "He has a first name. It's Luke, if you hadn't noticed. Why do people always call him the Callindor?"

"Sorry, but you two are not as similar as you may think. I don't even know where to begin pointing that out," Daniel argues, trying not to sound condescending. "You are high society and he is an adventurer. You can't contain him and I don't see you entering the life of a wanderer long enough to form a long-term relationship with him. That's the most obvious difference, Lady Grasdon. You should stick to your own world and avoid trying to tame warriors. I have seen many young courtesans fall from grace attempting to do so. I wonder if this is a phase all young noblewomen go through because it happens so often."

"So, if I can talk to him about weapons and adventuring then he would be more likely to accept me?"

After some thought, the bald nobleman answers, "Possibly, but you two are still very different. Besides, he has more important things to think about right now. For young men like Luke, honor and duty come before love and girls. Well, in his case I would say it is more pride and ego than honor and duty. That kid sure can't accept when he's outmatched."

"Then I'll have to work harder. If you really do know my family then you know we always get what we want," Kira defiantly announces, crossing her arms and taking a deep, comforting breath. "I can prove that Luke and I are similar to each other. By doing that, I can prove I'm not going through a phase. My dreams will not be ignored."

"Dreams?"

"Uh, I mean, deep desire and want."

"You're blushing, Kira. Care to be honest with me?"

"Nope. Have a nice day, Lord Skyblade," she quickly rambles. The young woman hops to her feet and breaks into a stumbling run toward the Bloodfae dormitory. "Thank you for talking to me and keeping this between us. Your trade agreement is safe. I'll go to the infirmary later."

Daniel grabs Kira's practice staff and tosses it into the equipment shed. He smirks as he realizes she only heard his advice on how to win Luke's attention. Though, he does wonder if all his years in high society have made him biased against the common folk. Not too long ago, Daniel was nothing more than a wandering mercenary with dreams of glory. His youthful dreams were not so different from those of any of Selenia's students.

"For both their sakes, I hope this old bastard is wrong."

*****

Theresa flings her door open, preventing Nimby from knocking. She glares at the halfling and ignores Fritz, who is standing off to the side. The determined thief walks past her while the gnome politely waits in the doorway. She gestures him in with a wave of her tail, a little taken aback by his silence.

"Looks like you're still shook up from that demon, Fritz. It's probably going to take another day or three before you're back to normal," the calico says, closing the door. Not wanting to be rude, she gets some water for her guests as they sit on the couch. "If I was the Hellfire Elf I would have killed Kellia in my room that day you interrupted us. Then, I would have removed you two to make sure there were no witnesses. I also wouldn't be staying in the academy where I could be discovered by a very tense and paranoid Selenia Hamilton."

"I know, but I want to know what you have to do with all of this," Nimby claims, still cautiously eyeing the calico. "You were alone with Kellia and I know she isn't one of your students. Fritz and I are here to find out what you're purpose is here."

"I apologize for his bluntness," Fritz interrupts, taking the offered glass of water. "We're both under some stress due to Luke's condition. I hope this can be handled in a civilized manner."

Theresa snuggles into a dark yellow chair and laps at her drink. "I must say I'm impressed with Nimby being serious and Fritz being polite. This is a nice change from the last time we talked. Even so, I can't tell you why I'm here. Contract of secrecy forbids me from doing so. I wouldn't be a professional if I gave away my client's information. It would damage my reputation and be a strike against me in the eyes of future employers. I'm sure you understand."

Nimby hops to his feet, looking visibly angry. His water splashes to the ground, but he does not make any move to pick up the glass. He leaps onto the table between him and Theresa while Fritz continues to quietly sip at his drink. The gnome's red eyes wander the room, taking in the brightly colored décor and acting disinterested.

"This isn't a game!" Nimby furiously shouts. "I want to know what a thief killer is doing here! This kind of job has nothing to do with the likes of you! Tell me!"

"I see the little kitten has a roar," the calico says, licking her lips in an attempt to intimidate the halfling. She scowls when all she sees is defiant rage in his eyes. "It's funny how a thief who has nothing to gain from all this is telling me I have no reason for being here. Be honest, Nimby, you're in it for nothing more than a story to tell and any money that falls off whatever the Callindor is fighting. That's downright selfish considering you don't have any skills that can help against that demon. Once all the information is gathered, your usefulness is over. You become a liability sticking around for loose change."

Fritz mutters a spell and a loud bang explodes between his two companions. "Let's behave ourselves. Nimby has a purpose and that is to be by Luke's side. Aedyn and I have the same purpose. We don't want to worry ourselves about why you're here. If you are on our side then it would be beneficial for everyone involved to be truthful. We could work together on this, Ms. Marley."

Theresa stands and goes to a small oak dresser in the corner of the room. She pulls out a thin case made of dark red wood and returns to place it on the table next to Nimby. There is the insignia of a three daggers meeting at their points etched into the beautiful wood. He looks up at her and silently nods his approval, the halfling rolling up his sleeves.

"I didn't make it this far by being a team player or spilling client information," the calico claims before finishing her drink in one gulp. "I'll tell my purpose if the thief can defeat me in a game of Rodil Darts. Win the game and I answer your questions. Even my contract can't stand up to a legalized guild game."

"I haven't lost a game of Rodil Darts in ten years and I don't plan on losing now," Nimby announces, hopping off the table and cracking his knuckles.

"Rodil Darts? What the hell is that? You played this when you were ten?" Fritz asks, irritated by the sudden change of focus. "This isn't the time for games. You said it yourself, you absent-minded halfling. Am I the only one here who wants to be civilized and discuss things?"

Theresa opens the box, withdrawing four golden darts and a smaller one made of obsidian. "Rodil Darts is a game thieves play to get information out of each other. The guilds created it to stop infighting among members and continue the tradition of learning secrets. Each one of us gets one round with these five darts. We don't really have a true point system, but you are graded on the difficulty and precision of the shots you take. You get double points if you do something impressive with the heavier obsidian dart. I prefer the daredevil version where my target will be Nimby and his target will be me. The target can lose and gain points depending on how much fear they show. Most importantly, you lose points if you shed the blood of your opponent. Since this is my home, I get to throw first."

"You can't possibly go along with this, Nimby."

The halfling stands against the far wall, loosely crossing his arms over his chest. Sighing in resignation, Fritz moves the couch out of the way as Theresa rolls her shoulders, her tail flicking with excitement. The halfling does not show any fear as his opponent takes aim. The first dart hits between his legs and the second cuts through the strap keeping his knife on his belt, the blade thudding to the floor. Nimby remains against the wall, his eyes challenging his opponent to try harder. Theresa twirls around and lets the last two gold darts fly with an overhead throw. One hits the wall next to his ear while the other slips harmlessly through a small gap between his arm and side.

"You're either out of practice or really bad at this game, Ms. Marley."

She flips the obsidian dart into the air, taking a half step back. She nails the dart with a spinning punch and sends the projectile soaring. It snags the straps of a gold pouch hanging from Nimby's pocket, pinning the pouch to the wall.

"Guess I spoke too soon. That was an impressive snag," he acknowledges, stepping away from the wall and admiring the shot. "I've only seen a few people use that as an ending and never by punching the dart."

Nimby pulls the projectiles out of the wall, kicking his fallen knife to Fritz. The gnome lets it slide past him while he takes a sip from a silver flask. Theresa does not look worried as she stands with her arms at her sides. She folds her tail behind her back, making sure none of it can be hit by the darts.

"Let's see how skilled you are," the calico says with a mocking grin.

Nimby grabs two gold darts at the same time, throwing them over his shoulder. Each one clips a side of her belt, causing her pants to drop to the floor. In mild shock, she glances down at her simple, white underwear revealed for the room to see. Aware that leaving the wall will cost her the game, Theresa hisses at the halfling. Fritz lets out a half-hearted whistle of appreciation as she steps out of her pants, kicking them to the side.

"You're dead after this game, Nimby," she growls, her ear tufts sticking up and twitching. "I'm going to beat you over the head with the gnome."

"We both know that embarrassing your opponent can lead to an easy win," the halfling calmly argues, taking aim with another dart. He is about to throw, but stops to reconsider his shot. "You have to admit that's worth more points than your first two shots. Now stop talking or I might mess up this next throw."

He lets out a slow breath, feeling his heartbeat steady. The next dart goes between the tunnel that her thumb and fingers form as she keeps her hands on her hips. He tosses the last gold dart between his legs and it hits just above her head.

"I'm still in the lead. Dropping my pants isn't enough to outdo me snatching your gold pouch and disarming you," she declares, taking a few seconds to rub her cold legs while her opponent stretches for his last throw. "The hand tunnel shot was good, though. I would say you're about twenty points behind."

Nimby carefully balances the obsidian dart on his palm and spins it at Theresa. She nervously watches the dart as it appears to gently move up and down in the air. She cannot figure out where it is heading until it is a few inches from her face, making the calico flinch. The glistening projectile hits the wall next to her ear with a thud of finality.

"That's it? That was your final shot?" she asks with a grin. She flexes her fingers, the tense joints crackling. "You should have tried for my shirt ties or a ricochet throw instead of something as plain as a spinner. Looks like I get to keep my secrets."

"Guess I was out of my league."

"I'll be taking back my pants and escorting you two out the door now," Theresa gloats. She moves and feels a painful yank on her earlobe. "What the hell? I'm stuck to the wall! What did you do, Nimby?"

She cannot move her head without feeling like something is trying to rip her ear off. Feeling around the obsidian dart, she finds that Nimby spun it through her small hoop earring. Theresa licks her lips and flicks her tail while deciding if she should be angry or impressed. She pops the obsidian dart out of the wall and runs her thumb along her sore earlobe.

"By the look on your face, I guess he wins. Now can we talk?" Fritz asks, handing their host her pants.

The calico pulls the golden darts out of the wall and places them back in their case. She puts her pants back on, but has to sit down to make sure they stay. Fritz and Nimby push the couch closer to the table and take their seats, taking up their drinks again. Getting comfortable, they patiently wait for her to talk.

"I'm Kellia's personal bodyguard," Theresa admits.

"Interesting," Fritz replies, running a hand through his greasy hair. "You don't seem the type to take a royal bodyguard job from someone like the Duke. From your previous speeches, you've shown to be socially minded and have an opinion on politics, but I never pegged you for religious. If Duke Solomon hired you as Luke's backup then you're probably religiously connected as well."

"It's a long answer."

"We have the time to hear it," Nimby assures her with a friendly smile.

"I was trained by an organization that was both religious and political in nature," she replies as she picks her words carefully to avoid getting in trouble. "I can't tell you anything about them even under guild game laws. Now, this Lich happens to fall into both categories because of its history and goals. It has been an enemy of Zaria and her followers for well over two centuries. It seeks to possess Kellia's body and push for a revolt against Duke Solomon. It wouldn't be too hard for the Lich to cause this event if it succeeds here. Peasants are easy to fool when you resemble the heir to the throne."

"Guess that explains why Duke Solomon hired you," Fritz politely interrupts.

Theresa's fingers delicately dance in front of her. She notices what she is doing and slowly folds her hands in her lap. "You're wrong about my employer. It was Kellia who requested a bodyguard from Gaia two weeks ago. At the time, it wasn't for anything specific, but she felt it would be wise to have a hidden bodyguard. I heard rumors of the Lich returning and used my contacts to take the position. Unfortunately, I was unaware that there was a demon involved. I didn't learn about it until I overheard your group and Fizzle talking in Visindor. I was surprised the drite and Luke didn't notice me in the shadows."

"It sounds like we're on the same side," Nimby says, leaning forward. "How about you help us? We could really use the extra fighting power."

"Begging is beneath a thief of your caliber," she says with a touch of disappointment in her voice. "Besides, I still claim that I work better alone. I might not be around much longer considering I plan on telling Selenia exactly why I'm here. It isn't like I have a choice in the matter because Kellia requested I be allowed to visit her. With all that has happened, keeping secrets from Selenia would be a mistake and I sense she's itching for a fight. You don't need my help anyway."

"Why do you assume that?" Fritz asks, his large eyes full of worry and doubt. "Our priest is drained. Our warrior is still recovering and probably mentally damaged. I'm still a little rattled from my encounter. Fizzle has disappeared, as usual. Nimby is the only one of us with all of his wits and parts intact. He's not the type to lead the charge against a single zombie much less a demonic assassin and a necrocaster. I'd say we're in very bad shape."

"Oh, you seemed so rattled when you whistled at me. You're getting better, Mister Warrenberg, and Aedyn will recover his energy after a long rest," the calico assures him. She pats the gnome's leg with her foot, which her guests can tell is an awkward attempt to be friendly. "As for Luke, I wouldn't count a member of his bloodline out of action until they're dead. I hate to admit that he might be better suited for this than I am. My areas of expertise are stealth and subterfuge, which will no longer help against the Hellfire Elf. Besides, I'd rather let somebody else work closely with Selenia on this."

"I can agree that Selenia should be somebody else's problem and Luke seems to be a favorite target of her wrath. Still, it's a shame you aren't willing to help us," Nimby says, genuine disappointment in his voice. "I guess we should leave. It was a fun game of Rodil Darts and thanks for telling us the truth. Maybe we'll meet again after this is done and we can have a rematch."

"I'm always up for guild games. You owe me a rematch, so seek me out when the dust settles."

Getting off the couch, Fritz rolls his eyes as the halfling blushes. They bow toward Theresa, who does not move to open the door for them. The gnome notices this and lets a charming grin play across his face.

"Don't worry, ma'am. You have nothing to be ashamed of," he declares, following Nimby out the door. He can barely hear the young woman chuckling from inside the room.

*****

Luke wakes in the middle of the night with a startled jump, feeling a smooth hand moving across the scar on his bare chest. A feminine shush breaks the silence as another hand gently eases him back onto the bed. He can smell a mild perfume in the air, but he does not recognize the scent. The delicate hands slowly drift away and he can hear the stranger rise from her chair. A quick spark of light appears when the mystery woman tries to use some flint and steel to light a candle. It takes a few more tries for her to ignite the short wick.

"Kira? What are you doing here?" he asks when he finally sees her. She puts a finger to her lips and moves back to the wooden stool, placing the candle on the small table by his head.

"Nobody is allowed to be out after dark any more. It's a new rule until this mess is cleaned up," she whispers with a bashful smile. "I wanted to see if you were conscious like people were saying."

"I'm touched, but I need my rest."

The young woman senses his anxiety and shifts uncomfortably on the stool. "I'm really sorry about what happened in the shed. It was me having some fun at your expense. I didn't mean to get you in trouble with Kevin and Selenia or make you mad."

Luke sits up in bed and rubs his throbbing neck. Before he can stop her, Kira slips behind him to massage his shoulders. She does not say anything while she works the knots out of his stiff muscles. The half-elf moans gently as he feels her rub his tension away. Her long hair tickles his back, but he tries not to squirm away.

"Don't worry about the shed," Luke softly whispers as he enjoys the massage. "I have more important things to worry about now. You really don't have to treat me like this."

"Consider this an apology and enjoy the pampering. We all know you're going after the Hellfire Elf again. Aren't you afraid it might kill you?" she asks, panicky concern in her trembling voice. Kira's hands make their way down his back, stopping below his ribs when he shudders. "I mean, nobody besides the staff would be able to handle that thing. Most of us don't deny you're one of the best students the academy has right now, but this is a real demon and you've already been injured. Most of the students are worried you won't survive the next fight."

"I'll be fine. I learned my lesson. Why am I even talking to you about this? You wouldn't understand."

Kira stops what she is doing, timidly moving back to her seat. She looks dejected and Luke can tell she is on the verge of weeping. He avoids eye contact, but it does not take long for him to reach out to comfort her. The young woman smiles at him and relaxes while the half-elf carefully pats her hand.

"I know I'm not a warrior, Luke," she whispers before taking a deep breath and deciding to say whatever flows into her mind. "I can barely consider myself a student since I still don't know how to fight. Not enough to be any good. I know some kicks and a little about my weapon of choice, but that's it. I don't even plan on using these skills once I graduate. A merchant's daughter has no reason to fight. So, my reason for visiting you has nothing to do with discussing a strategy to use against the demon. I just thought you would want someone to talk to. You know, someone that you can relax with for a night. While I might not understand all that you have to deal with, I can still listen to what's on your mind. My mother always said that a listening ear can help more than a continuous voice."

Luke tucks his hand under hers, their sweaty palms touching. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

"I guess I deserved it, though," Kira claims, rubbing her thumb against his skin. "I should be getting back to the dorm. I'll get in trouble if they find me missing. There's also a risk that the other students will begin thinking I'm the demon. Take care of yourself, Luke."

The young warrior takes his hand away, feeling his fingers graze the rough fabric of her pants. "I'll try, but it won't be easy with what I have to deal with. After he finds out I'm alive, the Lich will probably become more active. He's going to want to make a move before Kellia is taken away. I wouldn't put it past that monster to make a full attack the academy."

"Then, I guess it's a good thing we have you here. Luke Callindor and Selenia Hamilton in the same place is enough to make us feel safe," she whispers as she stands up and he swings his legs off the bed. "You don't have to get up. Stay down and gather your strength."

"Thanks for visiting me."

With a smile, she bends over to blow the candle out. Luke hears her whispering something in the dark then feels Kira's arms gradually wrap around his neck. Her lips softly touch his and he briefly considers pushing her away. Instead, to his own surprise, he pulls her closer and practically lifts her onto his lap.

"Something for us to talk about after you kill that demon. Consider it another apology and a promise all in one. Maybe even a reason for you to not get yourself killed. Get some sleep, Luke."

Kira gives him another kiss on the cheek and strokes his chin. He can sense her hesitate when the corner of her mouth touches his, but she pulls away. With a blank expression, he watches her tiptoe to the door and slip out of the infirmary.

"I'm starting to wonder how foolish she really is," Luke mutters, staring at the rising sun through the open door.

The portly healer walks in and is startled to see the dazed half-elf sitting on the bed. Luke snaps out of his trance and leaps to his feet, cringing at the sound of his knees creaking. He notices all of his gear is in the room and can only assume Kira brought it to him.

"Is everything okay, sir?" the healer asks as his patient gets dressed and straps his weapons in place.

"Never better," the half-elf states before slipping by the man and heading out the door.
12

"Welcome back, Luke. You had this old gnome worried," Fritz declares when the half-elf enters the stables. Fizzle is perched on Aedyn's shoulder while Nimby sits on the fence of the hunting dog pen. The young warrior smiles at his friends as he takes a seat on the gate of Stiletto's stall. He can hear Jamie and her father working with a sick horse on the far side of the stables, the pair arguing over the malady.

"I've had worse. The scar is going to sting for a few more days, but there's nothing I can do about that," the half-elf casually says. Stiletto places his front paws and head on the stall door, so Luke can scratch him behind the ears. "Thanks for healing me, Aedyn. I owe you my life."

The yawning priest shrugs, taking a seat on a bale of hay. "I already told you not to worry about it. Allowing me to help you in destroying this demon and its abomination of a master is reward enough for me. Besides, I would like to think we are friends and things like this do not lead to debt. Do the stable hands mind us meeting here? They sound like they have their hands full."

"They don't mind as long as we don't feed the animals and we keep the noise to a minimum," Nimby mentions as he pets one of the hunting dogs. "They know what's going on around here like everyone else, so I doubt they want to interfere. Now, what are we going to do? The Lich knows we're onto his demon, which means our element of surprise is gone. That was all we really had in the first place."

As he massages Stiletto's scalp, Luke silently acknowledges that his first adventure has become a disaster. The Hellfire Elf is incredibly strong and the Lich is certainly more dangerous than his servant. As Nimby said, his only advantage had been the element of surprise, which is gone. The feeling of the dog licking his hand reminds him of his promise to spend more time with his old friend, which he found to be nearly impossible. If he was not in class, he was in trouble or eating or busy searching for the heir. Luke scratches Stiletto under the chin and decides to take him out for a run after dinner. The forest tracker chuckles when the dog playfully nips at his fingers for more attention. He goes back to petting the noble shepherd's head as he watches the others shift nervously. Fritz leans against the wall, deep in his thoughts, while Aedyn gets comfortable against the wall. Fizzle quietly scratches his head with his tail until he darts into the air.

"What about Selenia? She give help," the drite happily suggests. "No hurt to ask. She strong and smart and brave."

"This is my mission and I won't let her steal it. I'm strong, brave, and smart too," Luke states, his voice more edged and cold than he intended. "Well, maybe not as strong and smart as her. That's lack of experience, which is something I'm working on gaining. It doesn't mean that I need her help with this."

Fizzle sniffles and whimpers, his voice meek when he apologizes, "Me sorry, Luke. Fizzle quiet now."

"Don't be sorry, Fizzle. All of us were thinking the same thing, but we can't forget to factor in Luke's ego," Fritz says, turning his attention to the young warrior. "I think you should accept help from anyone who offers it, kid. You nearly died during your first encounter with the Hellfire Elf and your second meeting will be more dangerous since he knows a bit about your fighting style. We have to acknowledge that this is more than any of us can handle. A Lich is trouble on its own, but adding a demon makes it even worse. Even a stubborn forest tracker like you has to admit that."

"Those are all valid points. I would probably lose if I tried to fight the demon again, but that's only if I do it alone. I think we should make a plan that involves all of us working together," the forest tracker announces. He frowns when he sees the looks of doubt around him, including an odd stare of contempt from Stiletto. "If we bring Selenia in then she'll push us to the back and we won't get to finish what we started. It isn't like we're helpless. I mean, we're a genius illusionist, a master thief, a powerful drite, a prodigal priest of Durag, and a skilled forest tracker. We all have abilities that can be used to take out our enemies, but it all comes down to us working together. I don't have a plan as yet, but I should have one soon. Can you guys please let me try to come up with something before you run to Selenia?"

Nimby stops petting the greyhound and drums his fingers on the pen's gate. "I think we can give you some more time. I'm confused on what we're trying to do here. Do we protect Kellia, go after the Lich, or take on the Hellfire Elf? All three are very important right now. Choosing one over the other could lead to a disaster."

Moving over to the hunting dog pen, Luke reaches out to pet one of the greyhounds as the others sit in silence. He notices that she is looking a little bloated and realizes that she is pregnant. She licks at his hand and nuzzles him as he thinks about his own problems. Nimby pulls some food out of his pocket for the pregnant dog, stopping when Fritz gently smacks him on the wrist. A subtle point at Jamie cautiously eyeing the group makes the halfling slowly raise his empty hands where she can see them.

Watching Nimby, Luke realizes that the thief has a point about their choices. Kellia is counting on him to make the right decision, so whatever he wants is no longer important. The smartest plan would be to place her out of harm's way, which means Selenia would have to be involved in their plans. With the headmistress and her staff guarding Kellia, Luke would be free to hunt down his enemies. As much as he wants to go after the Lich, he could waste days searching the Caster Swamp for the monster. That would give the necrocaster plenty of time to go after Kellia in his absence. The half-elf sighs when he realizes what he has to do, turning to his friends to announce his decision.

"We go after the Hellfire Elf first," Fritz declares as Luke opens his mouth to talk.

"Hey! That was what I was going to say," the young warrior childishly retorts. Nimby and Aedyn cannot stop themselves from laughing at the outburst.

"Great minds think alike then. You'd be able to think as fast as I do if you were shorter. We get cleaner air since we're closer to the grass," the gnome teases with a friendly grin. He waits for Luke to smile before continuing in a serious voice. "I think we should go after the more present threat. That Hellfire Elf is going to attack again and we need to be ready for it. I suggest returning to Selenia's office before going into more detail. With that thing being able to transform, I don't think we should discuss how to kill it while we're out in the open."

Aedyn nods, rising to lead the others out of the stables. Luke stays behind for a few more seconds to kiss Stiletto on the head and whisper a promise to take the noble shepherd for a run after dinner. He is barely a step outside when Fizzle drops onto his shoulder. The drite still looks upset, gingerly wrapping his tail around Luke's right arm. His reptilian chin quivers as tears form in his glazed, black eyes.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, Fizzle. I guess the stress is getting to me. Forgive me?"

"Fizzle no grudge. You young and emo . . . em . . . moody. You no know better. Fizzle understand."

As Luke jogs to catch up to his friends, he passes Clarence who is on his way to visit his greyhounds. The skinny archer is carrying a bag of snacks and several items that Luke guesses are for dog training. Several leashes, wooden rings, toys, and something furry are precariously balanced in the man's gangly arms. The sergeant instructor has some trouble with the load, so he stops to balance everything, pausing to nod a hello. Remembering something important, Luke's ears perk up for a second and he hurries back to Clarence.

"Hey, Clarence, I was wondering if you knew that one of your greyhounds is pregnant," the half-elf tells him, already feeling foolish. "You probably already knew that, but it's in a really early stage. I thought I should tell you in case you've been too busy to notice."

A confused look passes over the sergeant instructor's face before he laughs, causing everything in his hands to tumble to the ground. "That's a good one, kid. Did Thomas put you up to this? All of my greyhounds are male."

"Then, how could one . . . son of a troll!"

Luke sprints back to the stables and is almost at the entrance when the left hand wall of the building explodes. The eruption knocks the warrior off his feet, the sound of panicking horses and yelping, injured dogs filling his ears. He shields his eyes from the debris, straining to get a clear view of an enormous crow. Dust and wood chips are shaken off its ebony feathers as it frees itself from the wreckage. Luke charges and leaps at its foot, but the bird rises out of reach with a flap of its wings. Unable to reach the transformed demon, the half-elf looks back at the damaged stables to see if Stiletto is safe. Fizzle lands on his shoulder as Luke's eyes pick out the shredded remains of his beloved companion.

"That thing is going to suffer and die," the forest tracker swears, racing after the crow. Fizzle tumbles off his shoulder and darts after his friend.

"That demonic bastard's too fast for me!" the half-elf shouts, sprinting out of the academy and across the killing field. "Can you turn into a roc, Fizzle?"

"Big stone not fast either."

"I mean a giant eagle!"

Fizzle soars above Luke and chants a spell in Dragonesse, his voice deep and gravelly. The young warrior is almost at the tree line when a gigantic talon grabs him. He looks up to see a huge purple-feathered eagle, which glides high above the trees. With a shriek, the large bird lets go of the half-elf, looping around to catch him on its back. The pounding wind nearly knocks Luke off as the transformed Fizzle flies as fast as he can.

"Are we gaining?" he asks, grabbing a handful of feathers. His friend lets out a squawk as he clutches a little too tightly.

"Little. Big bird slow. Weigh too much."

The trees are thinning out and Luke notices patches of watery ground instead of the solid floor of the forest. Fizzle stops abruptly and spirals down to balance on a clump of twisted maples. The trees groan under the weight of the giant bird, so he rises into the air and awkwardly hovers.

"Why did you stop? That creature killed my friend!" Luke hysterically yells, tears of pain and rage rolling down his face. "I want you to keep going after it, Fizzle! Now!"

The drite wheels back toward the academy, staying high to prevent his friend from jumping for the trees. "Fizzle know Luke hurt. You close to dog. But Fizzle no want Luke die. Lich waiting. Lich watching."

Unable to control himself, the young warrior pounds on Fizzle's feathers. "Keep chasing him!"

"It trap. Fizzle smell Lich. Demon know you follow if kill dog. We go back and make plan."

Feeling confused and defeated, Luke is silent for the rest of the ride. Upon his return, he refuses to make eye contact with any of the students in the courtyard. He marches to the administrative building with Fizzle on his shoulder, the tiny drite back in his true form. Everyone clears out of his way as the furious half-elf approaches the heavy doors. His eyes are puffy from crying and his breathing is staggered with fury.

"That demon is mine," he growls, violently kicking the front doors open.

*****

Kellia is growing more restless by the minute, her containment eating away at her patience. She considers sneaking into Selenia's Office again, but she hears voices from the other side of the door. She recognizes one of them as the headmistress, so she knows leaving the room would result in getting physically thrown back in and scolded like a child. Kellia wonders if she has been forgotten when she hears more voices join the conversation. Minutes later, an explosion rocks the academy and she leaps off the bed to stumble to the window. Looking outside, the heiress watches a giant crow fly away, followed by another large bird that appears at the edge of the forest. Squinting and shielding her eyes from the sun, she notices that the second bird has a person in its talons.

Without another thought, she leaves the window and bursts into the other room and approaches Selenia's desk. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on?"

The headmistress is calmly sitting in her chair while Kevin is on a stool next to the Sword Dragon's head. Fritz and Nimby are at the windows and Aedyn is still clambering through the room's trapdoor entrance. All of them are watching Kellia, who is practically bouncing on her toes in panic.

"A giant crow burst through the wall of the stables. I believe Luke and Fizzle are going after it," Fritz replies before taking a long drink from the flask off his belt. "I knew we shouldn't have spoken about the demon in the open. Now that thing is going to report back to its master. On the plus side, Selenia, I can see Jamie and her old man are in one piece. They should have the horses under control within a few minutes. That's probably the only good news because I don't see any sign of the dogs, including Stiletto."

"At least, we're aware of the form it used to get in here," Kevin declares, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip on his shortsword. "If it's anything like other Hellfire Elves I've killed, it won't try to disguise itself as an animal again. Something else will be sent for Kellia and the demon will be used to kill Luke. Right now, it probably sees him as the only obstacle in its way. I hope you four can handle this beast. Sorry. Five of you. Almost forgot Fizzle."

"Somebody tell me what the hell is going on!" Kellia shouts, furiously slamming her hands on the desk.

Selenia kicks her desk forward so it hits the heiress with enough force to make her stumble into an empty chair. The headmistress stands up, moving to the window to examine the damage and chaos. She shakes her head in disgust and gives the wall a solid punch. Without turning around, she jabs a finger toward Aedyn, who is mumbling prayers. She follows the gesture by pointing her other hand at Kellia.

The priest stops chanting, frowning about the rude interruption. "I apologize if you know this already, your highness. The demon that attacked you is working for the Lich who wants you. Luke was sent by your father to protect you, but the messenger lost the important documents to zombies. Our reckless friend did not know who he was guarding, so he asked the three of us to help. Fizzle joined us later. Those are the basics of what is going on. Nimby has mentioned that Theresa came to protect you after you sent a request to Gaia. I hope she will stay at the academy to watch over you while we go after the Hellfire Elf. Though it seems we have run into a few problems and now things are coming to a head. Do you have any idea what is coming, Selenia? Kevin hinted that you have dealt with this creature before."

Selenia turns to Kevin to give orders in a calm, cold voice. "Old man, go take care of the chaos out there and begin defense preparations. Tell Duggan to take his best students to make more weapons and armor. Have Daniel take the advanced archery and woodworking students to make a stockpile of arrows and bows. This Lich gets frustrated rather easily, so we'll need those weapons as soon as possible. He probably has an army hidden in the Caster Swamp like last time. I'll defend my academy and students while the rest of you handle that demon. Kellia will remain in the warded room with Theresa on guard duty. The Lich is strong enough to break the room defenses, but one of the academy wards is designed specifically for him. I don't think he'll show his face."

Her second-in-command acts quicker than she has seen him move in the last three years. He leaps down the trapdoor like a young warrior and they hear him immediately bark orders to nearby students. It is not long before they hear an echoing slam from downstairs. Selenia has her hand on the hilt of a dagger hidden on the underside of the window, as the sound of fists hitting the walls gets closer to the office. The others move away from the entrance as someone bursts from below and she tosses the dagger.

"The hell is that for?" Luke asks, the weapon caught by Fizzle's tail.

"Sorry. Mercenary instincts," the headmistress says, taking a seat behind her desk. "I assume Stiletto died in that explosion. I'm sorry for your loss, Luke. I hope that damaging my building and breaking one of my trapdoors has helped you regain some control."

"I raised him since I found him on the street. He was only a puppy and became my best friend," the forest tracker whispers, staring at his feet. He shudders when Nimby pats him on the arm, the halfling silently standing at his side. "I'm going to tear that demon apart. Then, I'm going after the Lich and putting an end to this."

"That demon won't be reckless now that it knows we're after it. It won't come near the academy until the Lich begins its attack," Fritz says while scratching his beard. He offers his flask of whiskey-flavored water to Luke who silently refuses. "Tricking a Hellfire Elf is something that has never been done without casualties. Typically, people kill these demons by relentlessly hunting them down. Although, if it's young and has become obsessed with its target then it might act foolish. That's a slim chance, so we shouldn't count on it."

"I trust Luke to get us through this," Kellia announces with a quivering voice. "I'll go with him to help kill the Hellfire Elf. I owe him that much since he lost someone he loved to keep me safe."

Luke takes a step toward the heiress, stopping when Selenia clears her throat to speak. "I admire your courage, Kellia, but that's out of the question. You're staying here where you can be protected. The Hellfire Elf has been told to kill you instead of taking you alive, which means a dark sacrifice is unlikely. One needs a living victim for that, so I believe the Lich wants to inhabit your corpse and infiltrate the Serabian monarchy. By being in your body and using his magic to prevent it from decaying, he can make events happen that will lead to him gaining the throne. I refuse to let the Lich get anywhere near that goal."

"Him? You speak as if the creature has a gender," Aedyn scoffs in amusement.

"Last time I fought him, this Lich was male and I prefer to avoid calling everything I don't understand an it," the former mercenary explains, running a hand through her short hair. "I know for a fact he used to be human and is the only Lich in history who was never a powerful caster in life. This man never died to be returned to life by the use of his own dark magic like true Liches. I'm not sure how he did it, but he transformed into a Lich without the use of his own magic. This means he's not as strong as you think, but that doesn't mean he should be considered a pushover. I freely admit to having trouble fighting him since his spell repertoire is unpredictable. Unlike most Liches, he uses a little bit of everything instead of focusing on two or three spell specialties. The first time we fought, he used enhancement and summoning magic. Other encounters he's used elemental magic, illusions, potions, scrolls, and emotion magic. It's very difficult for one to prepare for him."

Kellia stomps her foot as she declares, "Then they need all the help they can get out there!"

"I thank you for the offer, your highness," Luke says, bowing to her. He shudders as he takes a deep breath, his anger and sadness still tearing at his insides. "In fact, your offer has given me a plan. I saw a clearing a few miles away that's close to the Caster Swamp border. It's perfect for an ambush. Nimby, Aedyn, and I can hide in the trees to make a surprise attack as soon as the Hellfire Elf takes our bait. Fizzle can remain invisible and tell us when the demon is near. I suggest coming to us one at a time to whisper in our ears instead of yelling, Fizzle."

"What do you plan on using for bait?" Fritz asks, curious as to why the half-elf failed to mention him in the plan. "If you're hiding then the demon won't go after you. The only other way to get his attention would be if Kellia was alone in the clearing, which isn't an option. If anything, her father would imprison us or have us exiled from Serab for endangering his child. Those outcomes are if we're lucky enough to survive the demon and the Lich. I still have several taverns and brothels that I have yet to visit. So, I guess we have no bait."

"Of course we do. We have another Kellia. Right, Fritz?"

The gnome groans and holds his face in his hands. "I was afraid of that."

"I think you'd make a very pretty princess, your majesty," Nimby teases before the empty flask hits him in the head and he falls out of his chair.

"This plan is too dangerous. If you three get stuck then I'm demon food," Fritz emphatically argues, his eyes darting to Selenia for a sign that she agrees. All he can see is the headmistress's face as she considers the plan and her own defenses. "Besides, my illusions aren't complex enough to turn me into a believable Kellia. They won't interact with my surroundings or give off her scent. It would be easy for someone to realize it's an illusion."

"That's why you stand inside the illusion and have it sit down. You'll be covered entirely by the fake Kellia, so you can affect the surroundings yourself," Luke explains, glancing at Aedyn for a supportive nod. "As for the smell, we can put a few of her dirty shirts over you after you take a thorough bath. I'm sure if you concentrate on getting that specific illusion ready then it will become stronger than your spontaneous illusions. If nothing else, Fizzle can throw some minor illusion spells in to enhance your work. Would that be possible, Fizzle?"

The drite proudly raises his head and smiles. "Yes. Easy if Fizzle near illusion, but then Fizzle not watch for evil."

"I'm not doing it!" the gnome exclaims.

"Chicken," Nimby playfully snaps.

"Dumbass."

"Foul-smelling goblin drool."

"Mushroom boil!"

The thief stops for a second before finally muttering, "Eunuch."

Fritz pounces on the halfling and the two wrestle on the ground. They punch and kick each other until the gnome slips out of his friend's grasp and pulls out a small pouch. Stepping away, he tosses a grainy substance on Nimby's clothes, sticking him to the floor. The grunting thief tries with all his might to get free of whatever is holding him, but he does not budge.

"That's Gnomish glue. You'll be stuck for a few hours," Fritz says while gently patting the pouch. "Don't make me glue your lips shut, Nimby."

"This is not the time for bickering and pranks," Aedyn states, glaring at his friends. "Get Nimby unstuck and go along with the plan, Fritz. I promise I will protect you with my life if that puts your mind at ease. I can have a protection spell ready to cast at the first sign of trouble. We will not let anything happen to you."

Luke impishly grins as he thinks of another way to comfort the gnome. "Think of the rewards, Fritz. People will talk about your heroics all over Ralian and women will know who you are. How can you pass up something that will make you a hero among nubile, young women?"

Fritz thinks for a bit then tosses a handful of green powder on Nimby. The halfling flips to his feet, brushing the remaining dust off his clothes. They shake hands and hug without a word, ignoring the snort from Kellia.

"You're so cruel, Callindor. I can't pass up on this if you describe it like that," the gnome mockingly complains, pulling out his notebooks to jot down some thoughts. "I'll practice my illusions and see if I can make them stronger. Creating a sheep is one thing, but humans are more difficult. Maybe you can give me a hand, Aedyn. I need a witness to give me feedback and your healing magic can give me a few extra hours of energy."

The priest nods in agreement as they head for the exit. "I will pray for the aid of Durag and great insight. There is no harm in asking."

"I'm going to go to my house in the forest. I have a better crossbow and some armor patches there," Nimby declares, unsure if he can help around the academy. "Other than that, I'm all ready to get myself killed. I'm really sorry about Stiletto, Luke."

"I'd appreciate it if you would gather your best students to finish repairs to the wall, Nimby," Selenia interrupts, handing the halfling some papers. "Your lumber shipment arrived this morning and I want that hole patched up as soon as possible. Get your students started before you leave the grounds."

Luke takes in a deep breath and prepares to leave when Kellia stops him. She holds his arm and meekly smiles, averting her gaze as she hugs him. She does not say anything else as she goes back to the warded room.

"It appears you're already a hero to some," Selenia says with a wry smile on her face. "I suggest you practice until it's time to put your plan into action. If it will help keep your spirits up, I'll turn a blind eye to some late night drinking. Duggan has some hidden casks and bottles. He thinks I don't know, but I don't want to bother hunting for his stash. He would only make a new one the next day. Enjoy this time because you could die out there."

"I still have some tricks that nobody has seen yet," the young warrior claims with a half-hearted smirk. "I won't lose to that demon again and I'm going to train until we leave to set the trap. I have to take care of something personal first, so I might be at the forest's edge for a few hours."

*****

Luke wipes the sweat from his brow, leaving a thick streak of dirt, as he continues making a grave at the base of a thick oak. His muscles ache after two hours of endless digging and pulling out gnarled roots. Dirt covers his bare chest, his shirt having been turned into bandages for his swollen, blood-caked hands. He can still see specks of white on his dirty, exposed knuckles as he keeps a tight grip on the battered shovel. His mind wanders when he realizes he is not sure if it is sweat or tears dripping off his chin. In truth, he does not care considering he is worried about hungry scavengers coming for Stiletto's remains. A few more minutes of furious digging is all the shovel can take, the handle splintering in Luke's hands. The jolting sound and sharp pain in his palms shock him into full awareness, leaving him staring at the shards of wood piercing his numb flesh.

"Not deep enough," he hisses, using his teeth to pull out the bigger splinters. He picks up the head of the shovel and goes back to work, cringing at the pain in his hands.

"Dig any further and I'll mistake you for my cousin," laughs a booming voice.

Luke sighs and pauses, refusing to look up from the grave. "Go away, Duggan. I want to be alone."

"I told you this was a waste of time," whispers a second male voice, obviously younger and nervous. "Give him the healing salve and let's go back."

An urgent, female voice cuts through the air. "And I told the both of you I didn't need an escort. If you want to go back then do it. I'm staying whether any of you like it or not. So, give me that package."

"Arguing instead of leaving is not a good idea," the half-elf snarls. He starts digging again only for the shovel to hit a large rock. The head splits down the middle and half of it falls away from what is left of the handle. Luke grinds his teeth and tries to keep digging with his bare hands.

"This is pathetic. He's already eight feet down," Duggan gruffly says, kicking some dirt into the hole. "Boy, grab this idiot by the head and heave him out of there."

"Don't hurt me for following orders, Luke," requests the second male voice. "It's just that Duggan scares me more than you."

A large hand reaches into the hole, gripping the forest tracker by the face. He struggles weakly as he is lifted out of the grave and placed on the soft grass. The half-elf fails to mask his anger at seeing Roland and Kira, who are standing next to Duggan. The muscular Roland does not try to hide his nervousness with his arms changing from crossed to dangling at his sides every minute. He is wearing his academy uniform and a pair of iron bracelets with the number ten crudely painted on them. Luke keeps his eyes on the big student when he notices Kira staring at him with a look of fierce determination. Unlike her classmate, the heiress is wearing a fine shirt of ruby silk and breeches of the finest leather. The forest tracker can swear he smells perfume wafting off her, but the stench of booze and smoke from the armored dwarf muffles all other scents.

"Why are you three here?" Luke finally asks.

"We were worried about you and saw that your friends were busy. I . . . I mean, we thought you would want some company," Kira answers with a shyness that does not match the confident look in her emerald eyes.

"Be honest, girl," Duggan kindly requests, pushing her a few steps forward. "You'll live longer if you charge into the truth instead of tip-toeing around it."

"I'm not avoiding anything. It's that there isn't much to explain aside from us worrying about him."

"It's too dangerous out here. That demon could attack at any moment," Roland explains, rubbing his arms as if he is cold. He grimaces at the feel of goosebumps on his skin. "Look here, Luke. Kira saw you picking up the remains of your dog at the stables and talked me into helping her follow you. I don't know why she wanted to do it, but she did and I was foolish enough to help. First, we went to the infirmary and took a pot of healing salve for you. We were almost over the wall when Duggan spotted us. We . . . persuaded him to come with us after a lengthy debate. By the time we finished all of that, you were long gone and it took us an hour to figure out where you went."

"Traitorous bastard," Kira mutters under her breath.

"How did they persuade you, old dwarf?" Luke bluntly asks.

"She promised me some drink from Bor'daruk. I ran out last semester," the blacksmith promptly replies while shaking an empty decanter at Kira. "Also, I was impressed that this boy could take a few punches from me and stay on his feet without crying."

"Great story. Leave that healing salve on the ground and I'll use it when I'm finished," Luke requests before walking over to the knee-high box of dark wood. He is barely able to lift the footlocker turned coffin since his muscles have been strained from digging.

"Let me help you with that," Roland offers as he steps over to touch the coffin. The half-elf lashes out at the young man, connecting with a solid kick to his stomach. The taller boy gasps more from shock than pain, but moves away from the crazed warrior.

"I think we've done enough here. He needs to be left alone," the dwarf whispers, forcefully shoving Roland back to the academy.

Kira keeps her eyes on Luke and sits on the grass. "I'm staying here. Thank you both for escorting me, but I'm not ready to go back."

"There's nothing you can do here, except watch the boy wallow in his grief," Duggan points out. The determined girl has already turned away from him, carefully watching Luke struggle with the coffin.

"She's made up her mind. Best to let her be, sir," Roland says, leading the dwarf back to the academy.

The blacksmith snorts and spits at the ground, wiping his mouth on a silk handkerchief. "I'm surprised the young survive to my age anymore with such idiotic decisions. Don't come crying to me if you get in trouble!"

Kira ignores Duggan and Roland as she stares blankly at the action in front of her. Luke struggles to pick up the coffin only to move it a few inches and collapse against it. A few times he pushes the box along the ground, but his progress always ends with a root catching the box and the half-elf cursing. The cycle of stubbornness continues for twenty minutes before Kira stands up. Luke is on his back as she kneels beside him, opening the healing salve. The forest tracker turns to protest when she rubs the cool medicine onto his skin and his burning aches melt away. He can barely feel her touch as she massages the salve along his arms, across his shoulders, and down his chest. The salve tickles his palms as the remaining splinters slip out of his flesh.

"Does this feel better?" she timidly asks.

"That tone of voice doesn't suit you," Luke groans before rolling over and standing up.

"Being an angry, self-destructive jackass doesn't suit you, so I guess neither of us are acting like ourselves," Kira contends. With a twinge of pride, she watches the young warrior lift the coffin and carry it to the edge of the grave. He gingerly lowers it into the hole, staying on his knees after he lets go.

Tears flow down Luke's face as memories of his murdered friend flood into his mind. "I found him at the base of a Zaria statue when I was eight. Stiletto was probably three months old, so it was easy to hide him in my jacket. It took my parents a month to figure out I was eating half of my meals and giving the rest to Stiletto, who was hiding in my room. I'm surprised I was able to keep him a secret for so long. He grew very quickly and my mom cleaned my room once a week, but she still didn't find him for a while. She was so angry the day she spotted him under my bed using her favorite cloak as a blanket. My grandfather had to help me convince my parents to let Stiletto stay. I'm glad they agreed to it because he was the first friend I ever had who didn't judge me on my bloodline. Stiletto loved me for who I was and how I acted. He would follow me to the Chaos Void and back if I led him there."

"I'm sorry," Kira whispers as she puts a cool hand on his shoulder. "I can tell Stiletto wasn't a pet to you. He was your family."

Luke reaches up to take her hand and move it away, but something stops him from letting go. Seconds feel like minutes as he silently strokes Kira's fingers and stares into the yawning grave. The sound of hungry crows snaps him out of his trance and he scrambles to his feet. A small yelp causes him to look down and notice he still has Kira by the thumb. Her arm is painfully twisted over her head while she desperately tries to avoid falling into the grave. Luke relaxes her arm and pulls her away from the edge.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Is this how a Callindor thanks people?"

"I said I was sorry and you didn't have to take my hand in the first place."

"Let's get our stories straight here. You took my hand, which is why I'm the one with an aching thumb," Kira says, rolling up her sleeves. She dips her injured digit into the remaining salve, shivering at the medicine's soothing touch. "Now, how about we cover Stiletto before those crows attack? Unless you want to continue being the depressed warrior who doesn't need any help."

"We don't have any shovels, so we have to do this by hand. Your shirt is going to get ruined and your hands will get dirty. You should sit down and watch."

"Well, my hands are already dirty from rubbing the salve on your mud-caked musc . . . bod . . . on you," she states, showing him her slightly dirty palms. "Though, you're right about the shirt because it was expensive. Guess I don't have a choice."

Luke smiles victoriously, expecting her to leave, but frowns when she reaches for the bottom of her shirt. "You can't be serious!"

Kira reveals a simple, white undershirt and drapes her silk top over a low branch. "Get your mind out of the mud. I'm wearing a cheap, academy-issued undershirt that I can afford to destroy. I've been wearing this thing since our little accident in class. Now, put your tongue back in and help me."

The pair use every method they can think of to fill in the grave. At first, they try to cup their hands and fling dirt into the hole. It is not long before Luke stiff arms the piles that are at the edge. Kira is the first to attempt the embarrassing tactic of throwing the dirt behind her like a dog. Unfortunately, she ends up sending more soil onto the half-elf than into the grave. A few minutes of playful retaliation ensues, giving them the energy to finish their work. By the end of the third hour, they have only covered half of the coffin and their hands are throbbing. Kira whimpers, fighting the urge to complain about the hard labor. Luke can see the exhaustion in her eyes as she holds out the lower part of her shirt, filling the cloth bowl with dirt. He does not even realize that he is staring until she looks up and blushes. Turning away, he goes back to figuring out new and less strenuous ways to fill the grave. By the end of the fifth hour, they are done filling the grave and it only cost them one shirt, two pairs of boots, and all of their dignity.

"Not sure if it was a good idea to use our shoes to carry the dirt," Kira gasps, sprawling on the grass next to an equally exhausted half-elf. A ladybug lands on her nose, but all she can do is helplessly twitch her face in the hopes of scaring the insect.

"Walking barefoot back to the academy will be fun," Luke says, glancing at her battle against the stubborn ladybug. "Besides, your undershirt would have been destroyed if you kept using it as a bowl. You're already showing off your bellybutton through that hole."

He puts his finger on her nose, letting the insect climb over to him. Before he can move his hand, Kira sneezes and sends the ladybug tumbling into the grass. They watch the tiny bug fly into the air and disappear into the forest.

"Sorry about that," the heiress sniffles.

"Thanks for helping me."

"It was nothing."

"You barely know me, yet you came to help. That's a lot more than nothing."

"Why won't you say my name?"

Luke pauses and thinks back to their previous encounters. "I've said your name. I'm sure I did at least once."

"You've never said my name. Not even during class," Kira mentions. She groans as she rolls onto her side to get a better look at the young warrior. She tries to meet his gaze, but is distracted by the smooth scar running diagonally across his torso. The black-haired girl finds herself wanting to run her hand along it like she did in the infirmary.

"I haven't had a reason to," the half-elf stubbornly claims.

"You're lying," she accuses him, a mild scowl on her face. "You could have said my name whenever you thanked me. Listen to me. I can say your names without fear. Luke. Callindor. Luke Callindor. There. I said all three versions without any hesitation. Saying a person's name is easier than you make it seem."

"Showoff."

"Jerk."

"Brat."

"Deviant."

"That's a bigger word than I expected from you."

"Bastard."

"Bad kisser."

The heiress quickly sits up as she exclaims, "I am not! Oh, for the love of Nexus the Dreamer! I shouldn't have moved like that. My body hurts. Anyway, I am not a bad kisser. You're the one who needs to work on his technique."

"You touch your lips to the other person's lips," Luke callously argues, making sure to avoid eye contact. "Kissing is not as complicated as girls make it out to be. It isn't like we're talking about how to kill a troll."

Kira leans over the forest tracker, placing her hands on both sides of his head and staring into his emerald eyes. "Be honest with me, Luke. Did you like the kiss or not?"

"This doesn't feel like the right place or time. I buried Stiletto and-" the half-elf starts, his voice silenced by a quick, dirty hand covering his mouth.

"In my homeland, this is the perfect time," she whispers with a wistful smile. "In the eyes of our departed loved ones, we do not lie or hide our feelings. We honor them with our honesty. So, I request that you answer my question."

"Well, in my homeland, we honor the dead with silence and mourning. I guess this puts us in a stalemate. Please let me up."

Kira slowly pulls away, letting her hands run along Luke's arms. When she gets to his palms, she can feel his muscles twitch as if they are trying to close around her hands. She briefly hesitates in anticipation, but the half-elf refuses to give in to his body.

"I guess we know where we stand with each other," the young woman sadly mumbles.

"I guess so."

"Damn it. My bracelet fell off."

She bends down to pick up the silver bauble as he struggles to his feet. They are unable to avoid clunking their heads together, sending a dull thud echoing throughout the trees. Luke falls straight down while Kira tries to land on the soft grass instead of tumbling onto the moist dirt of Stiletto's grave. She lurches forward at the last second and stumbles toward the young warrior, feeling her lips graze his mouth. The tingling sensation is brief, her momentum carrying her over Luke and face first into a pile of unused soil.

"That's disgusting," Kira mutters, spitting the dirt out of her mouth.

"Excuse me. Can you get your chest off my face?"

She frantically leaps off him while saying, "Sorry. Very sorry. I didn't mean to. Honest."

"At least they were soft."

"What was that?"

"Sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Don't worry. I still love you."

"Should I ignore that?"

Kira stares at him in horror, slowly rising to her feet in shock. "Yes. It's probably for the best since it slipped out. You know, we both have so much going on that we're very confused and people our age have such terrible control of their emotions. I should get going to where it's safe and you have a demon to slay. You don't need the emotional ramblings of a foolish girl on your mind. Please, don't mention this to anybody until we figure it out. Not that we have anything to figure out since it was obviously a slip of the tongue that meant nothing. It must have been the exhaustion talking or something I accidentally swallowed while shoveling dirt is making me hallucinate. Damn it. I'm making such a scene in front of Stiletto's grave when it isn't your people's way. This isn't right, so I'll shut up now. First, I'll apologize to Stiletto for this scene. Now, I'll shut up."

"We'll talk about it later," Luke promises, flashing her a smirk.

"Fine. Now, I will . . . it's getting dark out here. Maybe you should walk back with me as my escort."

The forest tracker takes her by the hand, his pulse beating hard. "Your word is my command, princess."

"Not funny. Don't hold my . . . well, for a little bit won't hurt," Kira whispers. She lets Luke lead her away from Stiletto's grave, her head hanging low. "I'm such an idiot."

*****

"I've been at this for an entire day and I still don't know if I can do it," Fritz admits, sitting in his immaculate room with piles of books neatly spread across the floor. "The mechanics of such a spell can take years to master. I don't see how I can make a moving, infallible illusion with only a day or two to prepare. I don't even know where to start. Are you listening to me, Aedyn?"

"I cannot possibly ignore you," the priest states from a chair in the corner. He peers into a barrel that is filled with an odorless oil, the amber color reminding him of the rising sun. "While I must agree with you, I have faith in your abilities. So eat your breakfast."

"From your mouth to the gods' ears, literally and hopefully," Fritz grumbles in frustration. He closes one book as he flips through another and places a third dust-covered tome in front of him. "Please don't move anything in this room. I keep everything in order, so I can find it in case of an emergency. Each of my belongings has its own special place. I might be an eccentric inventor, but I take pride in my room being clean. Unlike a certain priest who doesn't have to prepare for this trap."

"You should be concentrating on reading instead of talking," Aedyn suggests, politely covering his mouth as he yawns. "I am here to critique your illusions and act as a healer in case of personal damage. Even false images can be painful if cast incorrectly."

Fritz lets a laugh escape his lips, shooting a sideways glance at the half-elf. "I guess you never learned about gnomes. We're natural multi-taskers who can use one side of our brain for one thing while doing something else with the other side. My left side is studying while my right side is involved in our conversation. This gift allows us to think outside the realm of normalcy and increases our intellectual reaction time to the point where you will rarely catch a gnome flat-tongued in a conversation. Some days I can't understand how people exist with a brain that only allows for single task thinking. No matter what you claim, your mind is not capable of doing more than one thing at the same time without both tasks suffering in speed or quality. Would you stop yawning and listen to me, Karwyn?"

"I am listening, but I do not concern myself with the way gnomes think and how they are mentally superior in some ways."

The gnome blindly grabs some red chalk and makes a mark in one of his spellbooks. "This spell might be useful in making a believable illusion of her scent and help with the way she will interact with the grass. This will be a lot easier if I have the illusion sitting down. Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I heard a rumor from Nimby before he left to get his gear."

"This would involve me in what way?"

"Supposedly, our halfling friend believes you sent a secret letter to your temple requesting battle priests to cleanse the Caster Swamp," Fritz answers, getting up from his books and stretching. His back pops in several spots and he grabs the edge of his desk to avoid slumping to his knees. "Personally, I think you sent a letter to tell them about the Lich and the demon. Feel free to tell old Fritz what's going on."

"A man cannot even send a letter without being questioned? Next thing you will tell me is that Nimby went through my personal scrolls."

"I can't prove or disprove that. Safest thing is to say that he did or is planning to."

Aedyn hangs his head and lets out a small groan, slumping into his chair. After giving himself some time to get his emotions under control, the priest pulls out a sealed scroll from a camouflaged sleeve pocket. The blazing sun emblem of Durag is barely visible in the bright yellow wax. Aedyn holds it in his hands, but makes sure to keep it out of the curious gnome's reach.

"This is the letter you are wondering about and it has more to do with Luke than with our enemies," the priest explains, catching his friend's attempt to steal the parchment. "I believe I can tell you since you are a fellow caster, but it is a secret that must stay between us, especially out of the ears of Nimby. I do not think it is time for Luke to hear what I have to say either. That time will be chosen by me or my superiors after I follow him from this academy."

Fritz arches an eyebrow as the half-elf tucks the scroll into his sleeve. "You have my promise of secrecy. Though, I find it strange that you already decided on leaving with Luke. Isn't it too soon to make that level of commitment? After all, the Lich might not be a threat once all of this is over."

"It would be what my temple and our allies want," Aedyn answers, picking his words carefully. He watches the gnome's eyes and uses them to gauge if he is saying too much or remaining vague. "As odd as this sounds, there is a man somewhere in the world who is looking for people like our reckless friend. He is someone who only a few people in Windemere are aware of and I must make sure Luke meets him."

"This is a magical thing about our reckless friend," Fritz excitedly infers, fixing his skewed bed covers. "I'm betting it has something to do with the magic sight spell you used in the treasure vault. I saw you look at Luke and get a little stunned."

Aedyn shudders when he remembers the mesmerizing feeling that had washed over him in the cave. "Precisely. I was unable to hold the spell for too long when I examined Luke. Even as an inventor, you are familiar with the auras of living things. When I looked at Luke, I saw a magical storm within his aura. I could feel the power transfix me and it took all of my willpower to turn the spell off. Our friend has more potential than we could ever dream of and he has an important role to play in the future. I wish I knew enough to have some certainty of what Luke is destined for."

"You worry and think too much, kid. Powerful aura or not, you have to remember what he is and I'm not talking about his lineage," Fritz says, skimming through a small notebook that has a scorch mark on the cover. "Both of us have seen the skill Luke possesses and there's no denying his courage. What we should always remember is that he's our trusted friend. I know that makes me feel better since Luke is what stands between my throat and a demon's sword."

"But you hardly know him."

The gnome shakes his head and turns his back on the priest. He jots down a few notes, scowls, and scribbles over the page to erase his mistake. "Your point, kid? None of us really know each other aside from Nimby and myself. Luke barely knew Nimby when he confided in him. None of us knew much about you or Luke when we met in your room. If you ask me, we're all putting a lot of faith in each other after such a short time. So go with it and trust that Durag is leading you on the correct path."

Aedyn cannot help but smile at his friend's words, his expression changing to one of pain when the world swims around him. A glimpse of the forest fills his eyes and a feeling of dread envelopes his chest. The end of the vision leaves the half-elf with the horrid smell of rotting flesh and bone in his nostrils.

"The Lich is in the forest!" he loudly exclaims, holding the edge of a table for support. "I fear one of our friends is in trouble if we do not find them immediately."

"That's ridiculous," Fritz declares, trying to remain calm. "Kellia can't leave the warded room. The only other targets are Luke and Selenia. The latter needs our help like a dragon needs a goblin as backup. As for our young friend, he's being watched by Kevin, Daniel, and Selenia. One of them would jump in as soon as the Lich made a move toward him. So, who else could be in danger?"

"I do not know. Do we know of anyone in the forest? Maybe Fizzle."

"I doubt that . . . Crap! Nimby's hideout is in the forest!" the gnome shouts, scrambling to get his shoes on and hopping to the door. "Remember after the meeting yesterday? He said he was going to get some better equipment, but he waited until today because of the wall repairs. We have to move now and find that pain in the ass before the Lich does."

Aedyn rushes to follow the gnome, who casts a speed spell on himself. They move swiftly out of the academy and reach Visindor Forest within minutes. The priest can already sense the presence of unnatural creatures lurking among the trees. A sickening feeling of being too late crosses his mind, but he pushes it away and concentrates on keeping up with Fritz.

*****

The forest is silent as Nimby walks to his hidden shack. None of the birds are singing and the wind seems too cold for the time of year. Many of the trees are turning black, losing their leaves to a mysterious disease. The halfling knows it is only a matter of time before this area becomes a wasteland, unless they push the Lich back to the Caster Swamp. His thoughts are frozen when the smell of rotting flesh hits his nose, his eyes watering from the nauseating stench. Nimby cautiously backs against an oak that is seeping black ooze. He scans the area, but the tense thief cannot see anything among the dying trees.

"I remember a halfling who wandered into the Caster Swamp in search of treasure," the Lich announces, rising from the ground. "He was a curious fellow, so he never considered the consequences of his actions. If my memory is right, he found the remains of a powerful being and brought the creature back to life. He was such a foolish creature. Did you think I would forget about you, Nimby?"

"Kind of," the brown-haired thief charmingly admits, stepping away from the necrocaster. "I guess you owe me since I brought you back. So let me go and we'll be even. Good luck with the destruction or conquest of Serab. Give my regards to the Hellfire Elf."

A quick spell makes the ground under Nimby's feet change into quicksand and he sinks up to his neck. The dirt hardens, forming a tight tomb of earth around his body. The Lich cackles as he grabs the halfling by the ear, yanking hard and causing his prisoner to yelp in pain.

"My debt to you is paid by not telling Selenia the circumstances of my resurrection," the necrocaster says while examining the thief's eyes. Their foreheads touch and a scrap of his flesh remains on his prisoner's face. "She worked hard to destroy my body and you were kind enough to revive me by giving me some of your blood. Now I need information and you will tell me what I want to know. We might even have a place for you in our world if you're very helpful."

Nimby spits at the necrocaster and disappears beneath the ground. He burrows up a few feet behind the Lich and sprints in the direction of his house. He gets a few steps away before colliding with the Hellfire Elf, the assassin stepping out from behind a dead maple. The demon picks him up by his hair and slings him over his shoulder like an empty sack. He stops struggling when one of the demon's shoulder spikes cuts his cheek.

"I see your choices are still poor, little thief," the Lich says with a creaky grin.

"Let me go, you waste of bone. There are things going on that you're too stupid to know about," Nimby defiantly claims, trying to slip out of the Hellfire Elf's grip. All he can do is cling to the assassin's neck to prevent his hair from being ripped out. "It doesn't matter. I doubt you can get within a few yards of Kellia before Luke puts you in your place. No amount of information can save either of you, so you should give up and slither away."

"Those are brave words from a doomed fool," the rotting necrocaster says as his amusement with the halfling grows. "I may not have the magic and guile of my master, but I still have some talent in the realm of future sight. You're not meant to live while your fate is entwined with the Callindor's path. Bring him to me and you extend your life."

The snap of a twig draws all of their attention to where Aedyn and Fritz can barely be seen through the distant trees. With the speed that the pair is moving, the Lich knows the young priest has already sensed him. A loud incantation booms from the necrocaster's mouth and the stale wind of the forest grows stronger. Cursing loudly, the hopeful rescuers arrive in time to see the end of a teleportation spell. They wave away the cloud of green smoke, hoping to find Nimby, but the halfling is gone.

"This is bad. We should get Luke," Fritz panics as the smoke from the spell disappears completely.

"We can save Nimby without him. I want to have at least one chance to beat that monster before someone else gets to him," Aedyn declares, his body pulsing with holy magic. "Besides, Luke is training for the demon. You know he would charge into the swamp as soon as we told him. This incident could ruin our plans and bring the Lich to victory if Luke falls early. The fate of our friends and Kellia are now on our shoulders until we rescue Nimby."

"Being a little overdramatic, are we?"

"Battles such as these are part of my path."

"Well, I won't let you go alone."

"You would only be a hindrance to me, Fritz."

The gnome rummages through his pockets while stepping in the way of the priest. "I have some teleportation stones that we can use when we find them. Once you're hit by one of them, you go wherever the person throwing the stone tells you to go. They don't do anything if you keep your mouth shut, which I learned the hard way a few years back. Anyway, they're my emergency weapons and this situation certainly falls into that category. I'm willing to sacrifice my aces for the halfling, but I'm confused. Why would they take Nimby? He's the last person they should worry about. He isn't a threat to either of them."

Aedyn runs a hand through his hair, taking deep breaths as his holy aura subsides. "Nimby has been involved in this longer than us. There are things he knows that we have not been told. There might even be some information he has kept secret from Luke. After all, he is a thief and has proven to be very good at gathering information. I will handle the Lich while you get Nimby and yourself to safety. This type of fight is what I have been trained for, so do not worry about me. Can I have one of your teleportation stones?"

Fritz hands a thumbnail-sized orb to Aedyn, the color shifting from yellow to white in the sunlight. The priest tucks it under his collar where he can get at it easily. He does not say anything as he lifts the gnome and casts a speed spell on himself. They become a blur as they race toward the Caster Swamp, Aedyn following the foul aura path of the Lich. Within minutes, they pass into the borderlands of the swamp where nobody would ever think to look for their bodies.
13

"You hear that classes are cancelled?"

"Yeah. We can't be out of the dorms at night either. Selenia is making this a prison."

"I heard it has something to do with him."

"Strange things have been happening even since he arrived. He dragged Kellia into it too."

"Let's not forget the stables and Clarence's dogs. I think he's a walking hazard."

Luke ignores the whispered gossip and insults as he practices with his sabers in the middle of the academy. Sweat trickles down his face as he struggles to make his arms move faster. The drops carve faint streaks in the patches of dirt on his chest, left over from burying Stiletto. A few students gather to watch as the half-elf flips onto the edge of the fountain and continues moving as fast as he can. He backs along the fountain rim and windmills his sabers, the blades becoming metallic blurs. He leaps at a wooden practice dummy he has set up near the fountain. Luke jumps off the clunky silhouette with all of his strength, landing on top of the stone angel. He crouches and catches his breath, feeling his lungs burn as he inhales.

"I think . . . I think I . . . overdid it," he gasps while sheathing his weapons.

The young warrior reaches for the sword arm of the statue to brace himself, but his fingers slip off the slick stone. People shout and point as he falls into the cold fountain, the half-elf barely moving as he lies face down in the water. He smiles when it crosses his mind that drowning in a fountain due to exhaustion would be one of the most pathetic ways for him to die. He floats helplessly, mentally kicking himself for not resting or sleeping after yesterday's excitement.

A callused hand roughly grabs Luke by the arm, dragging him to the fountain's edge. Kevin drapes the half-elf over the rim, sitting down next to him and patting him on the back. The old warrior lights up his pipe, patiently waiting for the younger warrior to regain his pride and strength.

"Thanks, sir."

"Think nothing of it," Kevin mutters, puffing out a long stream of smoke. "It would have been a hassle to drag your corpse out of the fountain, clean the damn thing, and bury you. Last thing my old nerves need right now is more paperwork."

Luke gets out of the water and sits next to the veteran, who pretends to ignore the half-elf's careful examination of his body. The low, unnatural hanging of Kevin's left shoulder and the rigidness of his right leg are obvious injuries that he refuses to hide. With a tired sigh, the old man knocks the ashes out of his pipe, placing it next to him on the rim and stretching his good arm.

"I got involved in a fight that I shouldn't have," the veteran calmly explains, snorting when Luke jumps in surprise. "It was a trio of ogres. A calico maiden was under attack and the ogres were going to do worse to the poor thing until I stepped in. I killed one of them, but my recklessness left me open to his friends. I took a club to the shoulder and another to the leg at the same time. Selenia arrived to save my keister before my head was crushed into powder. She brought me back here and I've been stuck ever since." He pauses to rub his sore leg. "Can't ride a horse or travel too far with these injuries. Not unless someone drags me in a cart, but I'll be a vampire's concubine before I allow that."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare."

Kevin slaps him on the back, laughing loud enough to startle some nearby students. "An old saying states that damaged warriors are kept alive because the gods need us to train the new generation. I did what I did and I learned from it. Now, I'm around to pass my knowledge and philosophy to those young enough to be my children. Honestly, these injuries were bound to happen after I survived fights against all manner of mortal and monster. You see, your luck can't hold out forever, kid. Your old man learned that and he was smart enough to figure it out faster than the rest of us. Out of everyone I've ever known on the road, I'd say Ilan Callindor was the luckiest of us. Many people say it's Daniel because of his wealth and position of power, but the man is alone and haunted. Your dad got out of harm's way to make a family before the life of adventuring scarred him beyond repair."

"What was my dad like back then?" Luke asks, pouncing at the opening to his father's past. "Duggan has hinted at a few things, but I want to know more. Though, I guess now isn't the best time to ask."

"The only time not to ask things is when it's too late. You'd feel regret if I was gone and you never asked your questions," the grizzled warrior says. He looks to the sky and smiles at his fond memories. "Your father was the best friend a cocky jerk like me could ever ask for. Ilan was a great archer and the common sense that countered my recklessness. We were like brothers, which drove Selenia crazy since we always tried to one up each other. I wish I could visit him one of these days, but . . . well you know why. The least I should have done was left on better terms with your old man. He left our group after we lost some good friends. The pain made him decide it was time for him to settle down and go back to smithwork. It didn't sit well with me that he was throwing away the life of an adventurer for a woman and a life of safety. I guess my own pride and experiences had blinded me to his happiness."

Kevin takes a handful of water and splashes his worn face before continuing, "Anyway, I remember getting a letter from your old man while I was recovering from the ogres shattering my bones. The message told me about his successful business even though I had already come across his handiwork many times since we parted ways. He also told me about his newborn son and how he was worried you would follow the Callindor wanderlust. We still send letters from time to time, which I'm sure he doesn't tell your mother. She was never very fond of me. I'm prattling on right now and not giving you any real answers. The important part of this story is that your father is a good man and a great hero in his own way. While the bards may never sing of his exploits, I believe he made an impact on this world."

"Can I ask you a personal question, sir?"

"Only one, kid, because I've some work to do."

"Is there anything you regret missing out on because you became an adventurer?"

An expression of sorrow passes over Kevin's face, but it slowly changes into one of somber thought. The old warrior puts his pipe back into its belt loop as he forlornly glances at the fountain. Minutes pass before he lets out a shuddering sigh and turns back, a few tears in the corner of his eyes.

"You spend your life focusing on the adventure, so you forget about other things," Kevin says in a voice that is a little strained from sorrow. "Sharing my life with people and leaving more than a sword slash on the world is something I wish I'd concentrated on when I was younger. After going through quite a few battles, my connections with most people were superficial. It felt like one day I woke up and forgot what makes someone a true warrior."

"A true warrior?"

"A true warrior holds things to his heart like they were his spirit. They are what he draws strength from," the veteran answers while gently beating his chest. "I regret not keeping my strength and cutting off the ones I loved."

"I hope I never have any regrets by the end of my path."

The old warrior faces Luke and puts a strong hand on the young man's arm. "Regrets are funny things. I believe if you live your life with no regrets then you never truly lived. They are what come from making decisions. It's best to live a life with a few regrets, but don't rack them up too quickly. You should spend your youth finding reasons to fight. Learn by my example and don't run into battle without thinking. There's always something to think about before charging into the fray. It could be a loved one, an ideal, or a city you hold dear. Maybe even a type of mead you want to drink again before you leave for the final adventure. You wouldn't believe the courage and strength you're capable of if you think of such things. Then again, you may know more about that than I ever did because of your father's influence."

"I can't fight unless I think of what I'm fighting for, but I have trouble choosing which reason is the best one," the half-elf replies, lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Fight for all of them. Choosing one can lead to you failing someone who trusts you," Kevin suggests while rolling his bad shoulder and picking up his cane. "I chose to blindly fight for an innocent and I was crippled for the rest of my days. Because of that decision, I was unable to return to my wife and daughter. A month after my accident, my hometown was wiped out in a monster attack along with my family. I never had a chance to hold my daughter, Luke. I don't even know what my wife named her. It's another regret in the end, but it's the big one. Anyway, I'll leave you two alone. I suggest you enjoy your life while it's calm. Selenia and I will overlook your actions until this mess is over."

The veteran walks away, leaving Luke wondering what he is talking about. The half-elf quickly spins around to grab his gear and run after Kevin when he bumps into someone standing directly behind him. He is fast enough to grab the person, preventing them from falling into the fountain. A few seconds of confusion pass before he registers he is holding Kira by her wrist and waist.

"What are you doing here? Do I have to ask that every time we run into each other?" Luke questions, letting go of the young woman.

"Again with the wrist grabbing," she mutters, nervously glancing around the courtyard. She takes a deep breath and stares him in the eyes. "It's later, so I think we should talk, but not in the academy."

He looks a little confused as he retrieves his gear, grabbing his shirt off a leafy bush. Kira turns away as he wets a cloth in the fountain and cleans himself as best as he can. She returns her gaze to him when she feels him take her by the hand, his face inches from her own.

"Then let's go," he whispers.

*****

Nimby feels cold swamp water seep into his boots, having long since given up trying to keep his legs out of the water. With his hands bound by rusty chains, the halfling can only hang off the limb of a dead tree. A simple lock dangles in front of his face, but his tools have been put in a knothole, mere inches out of his reach. He quietly watches a swarm of leeches struggling to find a way through his pant legs, occasionally kicking at them if they near his boot cuff.

"This is such an amusing sight. A thief without his tools and pride," the Lich says, laughing gleefully. "I must admit that this was much better than my idea of using hot coals and demonic leeches. I commend you on your ingenuity, my servant."

"Thank you, master," growls the Hellfire Elf. The demon smacks Nimby hard enough to send him spiraling around the tree until he slams against the rotting trunk.

"Let's see you try that when I'm not tied up!" the halfling stubbornly shouts, his tongue licking the dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I'll give your shins and knees the stabbing of a lifetime!"

"I shall finish our business with our mouthy friend, demon. You may go and hunt or do whatever it is you do to relax," the Lich says, waving the assassin away.

The Hellfire Elf nods and changes into the form of a large snake, its coils slipping into a nearby pond. It takes a final, hungry look at Nimby and disappears into the murky waters. It is not long after that the screech of a wild animal is heard, a sign that the demon has found some prey.

"My castle once stood a mile north of here. It was a cold and dangerous house of death," the Lich whispers as he bends down to gaze into his prisoner's eyes. Something about them keeps drawing his attention, but he cannot figure out what. "Then, Selenia came and destroyed it after being paid to stop whatever scheme I was cooking. It took me years to regain my physical form and rebuild my castle only for her to destroy everything again. Now, that's all behind me and your friend is my new adversary. I want to know everything there is to know about him. Be as detailed as possible."

Nimby does not look directly at his captor while he sticks his tongue out at the monster. A small muttering from the necrocaster turns the water around his legs into solid ice. The halfling gasps through clenched teeth, feeling the stabbing cold gnaw at his limbs. Another quick spell and the ice becomes putrid swamp water once more. Dead leeches float to the surface as Nimby feels warmth flow back into his legs.

"I can hurt you for many years before I get bored, halfling," the necrocaster admits, adjusting his mildew-covered sleeves. "Long life has improved my patience and torture is one of the few joys I can still indulge in. Now, tell me what I need to know."

Nimby grins and wiggles his aching toes to get feeling back in them. "He's a member of the Callindor family and a skilled forest tracker. I mean he's really skilled. He's killed trolls, ogres, and even defeated a Sword Dragon in its own lair. Nobody in that academy is tougher than Luke, except for Selenia and Kevin. Now that your pet has really pissed him off, he's going to destroy both of you."

"The lies of a thief cannot fool me," the Lich hisses, grabbing his prisoner by the face. "He had trouble with my Hellfire Elf even with the element of surprise. How do you expect me to believe he's a threat? Your friend is weak and you are nothing but a pawn for me to use against him."

The halfling holds his breath, desperately trying not to inhale the stench of decay. Gooey flesh sticks to his cheeks as the Lich lets go and sits on a mushroom-covered stump. They stare at each other with only the sounds of the swamp invading their thoughts. Unaware of the danger, a silver frog surfaces in the water near the thief and is cruelly lanced by a magical arrow from the necrocaster.

"There is something I have overlooked. I should have wondered about this earlier. My foolishness might lead me down another faulty path if I'm not careful," the Lich declares, rising to his feet. "Why did you awaken me, halfling?"

"It was an accident! I was bored and found your crypt. I cut my hand while I was looting."

"I think not. The blood ritual used to revive a Lich is very specific. You would have needed to know exactly what you were doing," the decaying creature claims, leaning over to closely inspect the halfling again. "While your people are curious, I doubt they are that stupid. No race can survive the ages without having some level of intelligence and sense. So, I wonder if there's something about you that I'm missing."

"Fine. Make me swallow my pride and admit I was tricked, you troll flea," Nimby begrudgingly states as the rotting fingers glide over his bare arms. "I was told I could control you if I brought you back to life. I could almost taste the riches that I would steal with a Lich to do the hard work. You would have taken the blame for all of my crimes, which would keep me out of the public eye. Now I realize I should have let you stay destroyed. You're useless to your own cause and I'll be happy to help set up your defeat."

The halfling lashes out and bites off one of the Lich's fingers. He spits the moldy digit out with a gurgling cough, swearing under his breath. The severed finger worms its way through the water, eventually climbing up the necrocaster's robes. It reattaches itself leaving no sign that it was ever missing.

The Lich flexes the repaired finger, the joints cracking loudly. "You know nothing of the world we will create. Windemere will never be the same after we are done."

Nimby sneers at the necrocaster when a flash of light blinds him and sends his captor stumbling backwards. Before he can regain his sight, the halfling feels someone pull him out of the water and unhook the chain from the tree branch. With enough rapid blinking, he clears the spots from his eyes and sees the big-nosed face of Fritz in front of him. Aedyn is standing between them and the Lich, his staff glowing like the sun.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see your greasy face," Nimby happily whispers.

"Thank me when we get out of here," Fritz says, pulling out a pair of teleportation stones. "Can you handle that monster without our help, Aedyn?"

"I will show this monster the sun's fury. Now, get away while he is distracted," the priest demands. He chants at the top of his lungs, releasing a web of sunlight that binds the Lich. The unnatural creature writhes in pain as Aedyn takes a cautious step toward him.

"Good luck. Hamilton Military Academy!" the gnome shouts, tossing a stone at Nimby and throwing another straight into the air. Once the stones make contact, the pair disappear in a blink of light.

The Lich turns into sulfuric smoke, slipping out of the sunlight net. A swift incantation creates a thick orb of green energy around him, protecting his body as it reforms. Aedyn backs away from the magic reflection sphere as the barrier pulsates and the rotting monster hisses another spell.

The priest quickly chants to create his own barrier, spinning his staff in front of him. The Lich releases a spiraling beam from his mouth as the half-elf plunges his weapon into the soft earth. He braces himself as the beam races toward him, the deadly magic leaving a steaming trench in its wake. The spell hits with enough shrieking force to push Aedyn to the edge of a murky pool. A small change of the staff's angle allows him to redirect the beam into the sky and he stumbles forward to get away from the water.

"You are a force caster and a necrocaster?" Aedyn whispers, rubbing his sore wrists. "You are definitely not an average Lich. It will be a great deed when you are destroyed."

"I have feasted on the flesh of many Durag followers, foolish child. You are nothing but fodder."

When his enemy's defensive sphere vanishes, the priest casts a quick spell and another beam of light erupts from his staff. With a cruel smile, the necrocaster puts out his hand and the beam disperses in his palm. An evil grin appears below the ruby eyes that have become bigger since Aedyn first gazed into them. It takes a precious second for him to realize that the Lich is gradually growing larger, the creature rising to twenty feet tall. Fear growing in his stomach, he draws the teleportation stone and rolls it in his palm.

"Is that an illusion or a growth spell? I have no idea what it is. I am sorry, Durag, but I must destroy this fiend another night. He is far too strong."

"I won't let you escape from me like your friends, priest!"

"Escape was not my plan. Lacarsis!" Aedyn shouts, hurling the stone at his enemy. The enchanted rock hits the Lich in the chest and the priest can hears a screech of rage before the monster blinks away.

Exhausted and worn, Aedyn leans against his staff and feels the adrenaline drain from his muscles. His body is shaking from the impact of the Lich's attacks and he is positive that the necrocaster will return within a few minutes. Without his magic, it will take a day for him to walk back to the academy, in which time the monster can easily capture him. A signal spell would tell the monsters of the Caster Swamp that a helpless meal is nearby. It could even get the attention of the Hellfire Elf, which could lead to Luke's plan failing.

"The city of evil will not contain him for long. I must say it was a nice attempt on my part. My god will see me soon," the priest whispers, sinking to his knees to meditate. He is so lost in thought that he fails to notice the pop of sound above his head.

"Home time!" exclaims Fizzle, landing on his friend's shoulder.

"Fizzle? Bless Fritz and Nimby for their thoughts," the half-elf says. He hugs the drite as they disappear from the foul swamp. Aedyn finds himself standing on top of the academy walls and lets out a long held breath.

"Thank Durag I am safe and alive," he declares, leaning on the wall and smelling the forest air. "That Lich would have killed me if I did not get out of there, Fizzle. Thankfully, besides us no one will ever know what happened."

"You're a fool, Aedyn Karwyn. I'm sending a letter to your temple," says a woman's voice from next to him.

Groaning in dismay, he turns his head to see Selenia standing next to him with a sparkling longsword in her hand. A group of archery students are behind her, their leader going over how to defend the academy in case of an attack. The headmistress nods at the priest and turns on her heel, returning to the emergency procedure review.

"Now I know how Luke feels. Nice aim, Fizzle."

"Sorry. Fizzle put back in swamp?"

"No! Thank you for the rescue. May Durag light your way. I must be going to get some sleep."

He shakes the drite's outstretched tail and makes his way to his room. It is a short and silent trip as he climbs down the ladder and jogs to the teachers' dormitory. Students are running throughout the courtyards in preparation for the worst scenario that Selenia can imagine. Aedyn lets his body succumb to fatigue as he enters the only place he can find peace. He drops his staff in the corner and loosens his robe as he closes the door behind him. As soon as he is close enough to the book-covered bed, the half-elf collapses and passes out.

*****

Fireflies dance with pixies in the moonlit clearing where Luke leans against a slender birch tree. Letting the smell and taste nature wash over him, the warrior can feel his body relax. For the first time in days, his mind stops dwelling on Stiletto, the Hellfire Elf, and Kellia. He listens as his heartbeat slows and his breath mimics the sound of a distant owl. Luke stretches a hand out to let a tiny bat land on his pointer finger. The little beast shrieks at Kira and rocks on his finger for a few seconds before flying back into the darkness.

"I don't think she liked you," he laughs.

"Uh-huh. We don't have nights like this where I come from," the young woman softly says, standing in the middle of the clearing with her arms out and her palms up. "Don't get me wrong. I miss the warmth of the desert and the moons shining among the stars with nothing to block the view. Still, the large open spaces prevent us from seeing the moonlight like you see it here. It's very beautiful when passing through branches and leaves. It's like I'm standing in the middle of a dream."

Luke quietly watches her stand among the fireflies and pixies, his companion wearing the simple clothes provided by the academy. Her brown, sun-kissed skin stands in contrast to her white shirt as she slowly spins on the toes of her plain boots. With her common clothes and relaxed attitude, it is hard for the half-elf to believe she is the heir to one of the most powerful merchant houses on Windemere. He feels his lips tingle when he remembers their kiss in the infirmary and their near kiss in the forest. Kira turns around to face him, but Luke quickly turns away to watch the stars.

"I guess we should talk. I know you're busy preparing for a fight, but I really needed to speak with you," she declares with a bashful expression. "Unless you want to be left alone and don't think I'm worth your time."

"No need to guilt trip me. I can use the distraction and it's peaceful here. The mellow atmosphere puts my mind at ease," the half-elf claims, taking a seat in the grass. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I lied, Luke."

The forest tracker arches an eyebrow and puts a blade of grass between his lips. "I think you'll have to be more specific."

"When I was with you in the shed, I told you I was here to learn about warriors and gain leadership skills. The real reason I'm at this academy is because my family believes I will find my future husband here," Kira explains, nervously running her hand through her ebony hair. Her cheeks are bright red and she covers them with her hands before Luke can notice. "About five years ago, a seer told me that my heart would belong to a foreign warrior. My family has always had their destiny read by a seer when they turn thirteen. I was told that the reading is used to give one a direction in life. So, I was flustered when you found me in the shed and I panicked. I acted poorly and made you think I was here for false reasons."

"Sorry, but I'm not sure what your point is."

"The point is that I'm sorry I lied to you," she says, laying her hands on her lap. "I really didn't care about getting revenge for the accident during class. I don't want any hard feelings between us."

"So, have you chosen a weapon yet?" Luke asks, trying to change the subject to something that would not upset his companion.

She fixes him with a hurt expression that melts into a warm smile. "At home, one of my brothers taught me how to use a type of weapon that they don't teach here. Theresa knows how to use it, so I'm going to take private lessons from her next semester. Selenia has convinced her to stay for a year to help."

"Guess you found your path."

"Not many people outside of Bor'daruk know how to use this weapon. Most people give up because they keep hurting themselves," Kira continues as she blushes and turns away. She watches a pair of bats flit across the green moon, their dance making her feel drowsy. "You see, the weapon is a long chain with a sickle at one end and a heavy metal cylinder at the other end. The blunt end can be used as a club or a defensive piece. My people designed it to deal with the large scorpions and perytons that wander the desert. My brother recently sent me one of these weapons from home, so I can learn how to use it during my free time." She takes a deep breath and turns back to the half-elf. "Are you going to continue avoiding the topic at hand?"

"What topic would that be? I have many topics on my mind," Luke innocently declares, removing his sabers and laying them next to him. "A Lich trying to kidnap Kellia, a Hellfire Elf trying to kill me, graduating, not getting killed, and keeping my remaining friends alive. The list keeps growing. Can you narrow it down for me?"

Kira lets out a sigh while he avoids eye contact by watching the pixies above them. She clumsily pounces on the half-elf, easily pinning him to the ground because he refuses to fight back. She bends down to kiss Luke on the lips, feeling his body tense in surprise and then relax completely. Gently breaking the kiss, he moves so that he is leaning against the tree while Kira curls up in his lap.

"It's time we stopped playing around, Luke. I want to talk about us," the heiress whispers, holding his face between her warm hands. "I meant what I said at . . . back then. I fell in love with you without knowing why and I want to explore this feeling with you before it's too late. I think you should know that I meant what I said before you fight that demon." She moves her thumbs, so they gently keep his mouth closed. "Before you say anything, it isn't because of your last name. I have the same problem as you, so I know one's lineage should not determine how you're treated. You're kind, funny, sweet, and brave, Luke. I think every woman in the world would want someone with a heart like yours."

"Thanks for the compliments, but I don't know what to say," he admits, absent-mindedly stroking her hair. "No offense, but I never thought about stuff like this. I've been so obsessed with proving I'm the hero I claimed to be all those days ago. If you haven't realized it yet, I'm not a real hero. I lied to get this mission from Duke Solomon's messenger."

Kira rolls off Luke, snuggling against his side as she peers up at Canst the green moon. As the emerald light pours into the forest, the pixies stop dancing and disappear among the dense branches. She knows the curious creatures are watching them, the occasional flutter of wings against leaves revealing their presence. The forest is so serene that she finds herself falling asleep, her eyes nothing more than slits.

"I don't care if you lied or not. I think you'll win and prove to everyone you're a hero," the heiress whispers, stifling a small yawn. She prays that she can hold off succumbing to her exhaustion and spend more time with her companion. "Don't let go of me tonight because we might not have another night like this. All of us will be involved in the battle if Selenia is right, so we could both be dead by the end of the week. I'm terrified, but I feel safe in your arms. I never let anyone hold me this close before, so this is special to me. Do you mind me being this close to you, Luke?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to think about this," the half-elf answers, shifting uncomfortably due to a rock against his back. He pulls the stone out and shows it to Kira in case she thinks her question made him squirm. "You're very beautiful and you've changed my first impression that you were a spoiled brat. You're a lot bolder than I gave you credit for. Things seem to be happening without any warning and I'm having a lot of trouble figuring out what I should do."

"Simple. Wrap your arms around me and enjoy the night," the young woman playfully orders him. She yawns and places her head on his shoulder, nuzzling at his neck. "Like I said, we don't know what our futures hold. Right now, I want to feel loved and wanted for more than my name. Why do you question this so much, Luke? I can feel your heart beating as hard as mine and it can't all be nerves. I know you enjoy holding me close because you haven't tried to fight any of our kisses."

"The first one was in the dark and the second one was without warning."

"Then, I will make sure you see the third one coming."

Kira lets her lips trace around his neck and up his chin to kiss Luke again. He pushes her away for a second then pulls her in for a harder, deeper kiss. She runs her hands through his hair, tracing her thumbs around the points of his ears and kisses his cheeks. It does not take long for Luke to go limp and collapse to the ground, taking her with him. She finally stops, allowing the half-elf to wrap his arms around Kira and flip her onto her back. He pins her hands above her head, so he can catch his breath.

"I do have strong feelings for you, Kira," the young warrior says, releasing her hands and letting her sit up. "Part of me wonders if this is nothing more than a passing interest or lust. We're both away from our old lives while looking for our paths. I've had my heart toyed with before and I don't want it to happen again. What if-"

Kira places a gentle finger against his lips, cutting off his words. "I'm scared too. I'm falling in love with an adventurer who I barely know anything about outside of his legendary heritage. For all I know, I'm setting myself up for heartbreak. Still, we should follow our hearts as far as they take us, so let's deal with tomorrow when the time comes. My heart is yours for this entire night and for as long as we love each other. I do believe I love you, Luke Callindor. I don't care if this path ends with heartbreak because this is what I feel right now. May Gabriel do what he wants to our destinies because I'll always remember my time with you. Even when Selenia puts both of us in detention for fraternizing off academy grounds after curfew. All we need is some alcohol and we'd be breaking almost all of the big rules."

The young woman sniffles and tries to hide the tears rolling down her face. She stiffens when Luke gently takes her chin and moves her head, so he can get a clear look at her. He catches one of her tears on his finger, holding it up as if seeing one for the first time.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I realized what you said earlier and I want you to do it again."

"Do what?"

She smiles at Luke and strokes his cheek. "Please say my name again, Luke."

"Get some sleep, Kira."

The half-elf kisses her tears away and holds her tight without saying another word. She wraps her arms around him while the crickets sing. Kira silently falls asleep in his embrace and it does not take long for Luke to join her.
14

"Nothing happened, Nimby, so drop it," Luke snaps as they search for places to hide. Fritz is already casting his spell in the middle of the clearing while Aedyn whispers a small prayer to Durag.

"You guys were out all night. Her clothes were damp when she got back. I promise I won't rat you guys out to Selenia," the halfling persistently swears. He talks at such a fast pace that the others have to stop what they are doing and think about what he said. "Who could blame you anyway? She's a rich heiress with an attractive figure. By the gods, I'm starting to sound like Fritz."

Aedyn shakes his head in disgust and leaves to hide behind a thick tree. The priest casts a small spell to help him blend into his surroundings as long as he stays perfectly still. Fritz goes back to ignoring all of them as his casting becomes more intense, the form of Kellia appearing around him. Sweat forms on the gnome's brow as he is masked entirely from view.

"Look, Nimby. Kira's clothes were wet because of the morning dew. We slept at the base of a tree in Visindor," Luke explains, leading the halfling away from Aedyn's hiding place. "She wanted to talk about her weapon class and we fell asleep next to each other. You don't have to make a big deal about it. Kira and I are friends and classmates. She needed someone to talk to and that is it. Besides, I have a long list of other things to worry about right now. At the top of that list is the Hellfire Elf and not getting killed by it."

Nimby checks the underbrush for space, deciding that it would be too difficult for him to get out in an emergency. "Guess you have a point there. A forest tracker and a bratty heiress would be an odd couple. More than likely she would only want you for a trophy boyfriend type of thing. What color are her eyes again?"

"Green with a hint of blue," the young warrior responds as he examines a hollowed tree. He stops as soon as the words leave his mouth and blushes. Stuttering noises escape his mouth, but none of them are actual words. He helplessly stutters and growls while Nimby heads toward the far side of the clearing.

Luke stands next to the hollow tree, counting to ten and letting his annoyance fade away. He is surprised the halfling tricked him so easily, which he fears is a sign he is unfocused. He wonders if he should have delayed talking with Kira until he has finished with the Hellfire Elf. A moment's distraction could get him or, even worse, one of his friends killed. Yet, the longer he waits in silence, the more his mind wanders to the previous night. With vivid detail, he remembers the warmth of her exotic skin and the soothing smell of her ebony hair. The taste of her mouth floods back into his mind, causing him to lick his lips.

Luke gives the tip of his left ear a violent twist to painfully snap himself back to reality. With a deep breath, he squeezes into the hollow tree and uses his stiletto to make several peepholes. Centipedes, mushrooms, and molds are all over the rotting inside and there is a moist aroma of decay. It is nauseating at first, but he focuses on his mission to help push the sensation away.

"Fizzle find demon. He come here. About this far away," the drite reports as he crawls into the tree. He sticks his tail straight out and his forearms are stretched forward as he attempts to show the distance.

"You have any other way to explain how far away he is?"

"Hmmm. Fizzle know sun will be there," he responds with a point of his tail.

"That means he'll be here in about an hour, which gives us enough time to get mentally prepared. I hope Fritz can maintain the spell for that long."

"Why Luke and Nimby fight?"

"We weren't really fighting," Luke replies as the drite takes a seat within the tree. "He was getting involved in something he had no business getting involved in. Don't worry about it."

Fizzle stares at the warrior and scratches the top of his head with the end of his tail. Finally, he blurts out, "Luke have mate?"

"What!?"

"Luke smiling like with girl. Fizzle saw. Fizzle not stop mating. People strange. No dance. No magic. Look happy. So, Fizzle happy for Luke."

"You have it all wrong, Fizzle. There was no mating. It was a night spent under the stars. Nothing happened between me and Kira. I did not and never have mated with anyone," Luke frantically explains, his cheeks bright red. "Can we please try to concentrate on the demon heading this way?"

The tiny dragon jumps into the air as if something bit his tail and excitedly hovers outside the rotting tree. "Fizzle get it. Little person tell Fizzle word. Start with bent line then open mouth. Fizzle think dragon tooth next and then strange thing."

"I think you spelled the word 'love'," the forest tracker says, trying very hard not to raise his voice at the innocent creature. "Again, you and Nimby are looking too far into this. So I know exactly what her eyes look like and I remember her scent perfectly, but that's my bard's memory. It doesn't matter that I still feel the warmth of her skin against me and the touch of her lips on mine. Uh, I'm pretty sure I was going somewhere with this that translates to this is neither the time nor the place. After all, it might not be love. I just met her, so there is no way I can say it's love without there being some doubt."

"Fizzle tell others about demon. Luke need alone. Fizzle know when see happy mating couple," the drite squeaks before fluttering away.

The half-elf rests his forehead against the soft, rotting trunk. "That demon better get here quickly because I can't take much more of this."

*****

Luke spends the next few hours standing in the hollow tree, gazing through his peepholes at Fritz and the others. A few deer and rabbits wander by, but none of them act suspicious and they leave soon after they appear. Driven by a nervous curiosity, the half-elf slips out of the tree and silently climbs into the thick branches of a healthy elm. He scans the clearing while Fritz has his illusion pick blades of grass. Luke admires the gnome's masterful illusion from his high perch, the young warrior sure that the fake Kellia would have fooled him if he did not already know the plan. His thoughts are cut short when he hears the faint echo of a thunderclap from the direction of the academy. The clouds in that direction show signs of a coming storm, so he ignores the noise and goes back to watching for the Hellfire Elf.

Minutes later, a glint of light bounces off a metal object directly across from Luke. Using years of training, he lets his eyes naturally focus on the area and sees the assassin near the edge of the clearing. The demon is crouched in the shadows, cautiously sniffing at the air and licking its lips. Another glimmer of metal appears as the Chaoswind is drawn from its sheath, but the Hellfire Elf refuses to move into the open.

Luke watches the demon and gradually senses that something is wrong. He expected the creature to be somewhat suspicious of the easy target, but its extended hesitation shows it is being extra cautious. Days ago, it was willing to attack outside the academy where Selenia could have interfered. Now the Hellfire Elf is sitting quietly in the shadows, staring hungrily at the illusion of Kellia. Luke's leg muscles tense, preparing to launch him into the open at the first sign of trouble.

The assassin lays the Chaoswind on the ground and pulls a longbow off its back, the weapon seeming to emerge from its armor. It nocks a black arrow in place, lowering to one knee and pulling the bowstring back. Luke immediately notices it is aiming lower than it would if the real Kellia was sitting in the clearing. The arrow is trained exactly on where Fritz's chest would be within the illusion.

"It knows," the half-elf hisses, leaping out of the tree and sprinting at full speed.

He is drawing his sabers as the Hellfire Elf releases its arrow with a heart-wrenching thrum of the bowstring. Luke dives in front of Fritz, knocking the projectile out of the air with his blades and hopping back to his feet. He can see Aedyn and Nimby coming out of their hiding places while the demon calmly puts the longbow away. Luke is barely aware of the assassin muttering before his eyesight abruptly turns off.

"Get out of here, Fritz!" he shouts, turning away from where he thinks the assassin is charging.

"No way, boy. Your eyes are nothing more than black pools. Let us do the fighting," Fritz argues, dropping the illusion of Kellia. He moves to get in between Luke and the Hellfire Elf, but the gnome is shoved back by a sweeping kick from his friend.

"I can handle it. You can stay in the area if you want, but take a few steps back. I need room for this trick."

Fritz looks confused as he moves away and draws a dagger. He can see Aedyn fire a light beam that the Hellfire Elf leaps over and the stones from Nimby's sling bounce harmlessly off the demon's platemail. The monster breaks into a charge at Luke with the Chaoswind in position for a head severing slash. A victorious sneer is plastered across the assassin's face as it closes in on the blinded warrior.

"Not this time," Luke hisses, hearing the demon's sword swing through the air.

He ducks under the attack and rolls behind his enemy, springing to his feet. The forest tracker waits for the monster to turn around before he thrusts both of his sabers deep into the gut of the Hellfire Elf. Almost at the same time, another light beam strikes the demon in the back, pushing it further down the blades. With a furious growl, Luke kicks the gurgling, shocked assassin off his weapons.

"Just because I can't see you, doesn't mean I can't hear you," he growls as he leaps at the Hellfire Elf. He deflects the Chaoswind and slices the demon up the shoulder, sending a spike spinning away. Luke fluidly leans backwards as the deadly sword is swung over him. Not missing the opening, he lunges forward and plunges his sabers back into the bleeding gut wounds.

"You can still see," the demon snarls as steaming blood trickles from its mouth.

Luke roars at the top of his lungs and spreads his arms wide, the motion ripping the swords out the sides of his enemy. Acidic blood and corruptive ichor fly everywhere as the creature stumbles back. It reaches down with a quivering hand to feel inside the massive wounds and stares at its blood-covered hand. The young warrior shakes some of the gore off his sabers while the demon sheaths the Chaoswind.

"Stop him!" Aedyn yells as the Hellfire Elf laughs.

Even blind, Luke knows he does not have time to stop the assassin from transforming. The demon is already turning into a worm and disappearing into the soil before the forest tracker can take a single step. With a gentle sigh, he stoops down to clean his sabers and feels all of the nerves in his body go numb.

"He won't be back. Not for a long time anyway," Luke declares, his eyes returning to their natural green. "It'll take a few months for him to heal all of that. At least I hope it will. Either way I'll be ready for him."

Unconvinced by the forest tracker's claim, Aedyn sighs and faces the bubbling blood pooled on the ground. He casts a purification spell as the others let the tension of the last few days drift away. Fizzle lands on Fritz's head as the exhausted gnome falls onto his back and watches the clouds. Feeling lost, Luke aimlessly wanders the clearing, coming across the Hellfire Elf's severed shoulder spike. Happy to claim a trophy, he scoops up the warm metal shard and tucks it into his belt.

"I have to ask. How were you able to see, Luke?" Nimby asks as the warrior returns to the group.

"Part of my training involved listening for the sound of an enemy's sword and footsteps. It was all skill and talent."

Fritz lets out a chuckle and waggles a finger at the swordsman. "There's also the Callindor bloodline. All history scholars know that minor powers are found within their family lineage due to Uli's blessing. There's documentation of one Callindor who could withstand intense heat and another who could speak with animals. I believe Luke has one of these powers like many of his ancestors."

"Thanks, Fritz," Luke mutters, a friendly pout on his face. "For once can I get the chance to say I have great skills instead of it always coming down to my heritage?"

"Sorry," the gnome apologizes with a small nod. He clears his throat and promptly goes back into his lecture. "I believe the power Luke used is called sightless sight. A bard I once knew had this power. She was able to see things even though her eyes had been stolen by a necrocaster. I was told the power works off sound much like the way a bat sees in the dark. A very useful trick to have, but it is rumored to cause permanent damage to the eyes if used too often. I assume that's why Luke waited until now to reveal it."

The forest tracker rolls his eyes and glances over at Aedyn, who is still casting the complicated purification spell. After several minutes of silence, Luke hears another blast of thunder from the direction of the academy. A feeling of dread comes over him, compelling him to sprint away from his friends. He clambers up a tree to take a look at the distant sky, seeing that the storm clouds are no longer near the academy. He gracefully climbs back to the ground and turns to find the others anxiously staring at him.

"Something isn't right," Luke states, rubbing his palms against his saber pommels. "I hear thunder from the direction of the academy, but the storm clouds aren't in the same direction as the noise. I can't climb high enough to get a clear view of the academy. Can you fly above the trees and get a better look at the academy, Fizzle?"

The drite is already high in the air and looking around before the half-elf finishes the question. "Army! Big one-eyes and stinger men!"

"Nimby will come with me. The rest of you purify this area because we don't want something demonic growing here," Luke sternly orders while tightening his boot laces. "I have a feeling the Lich is going to make the rest of today very tiring for us. Come on, Nimby."

He grabs the halfling and hoists him onto his back, the pair sprinting into the forest faster than a startled deer.

"Good luck, boys!" Fritz shouts before lying back in the grass.

*****

While Luke and the others are waiting for the Hellfire Elf, Selenia is busy preparing her students for their first battle. Extra weapons have been made and handed out to those who know how to use them. Catapults are stationed inside the walls, the siege weapon students waiting patiently by the large constructs. Several piles of boulders sit around the courtyard with the stronger students standing ready for the order to load the catapults. Selenia watches the academy from the roof of the main building with Theresa and Daniel calmly standing behind her.

"The air isn't right. Something is coming," she says, turning on her heel and heading to the other side of the roof.

"Are you worried about Luke and the others?" Daniel asks as he follows her.

"They can handle themselves," the headmistress replies while making her way down a rope ladder. "I'm more concerned with what is being sent after Kellia. Call it warrior intuition, but something dangerous is heading our way. Have all the preparations been made, Theresa?"

"I delivered your orders to fortify all the side doors," the calico reports, her ear tufts twitching nervously. She climbs down the building, carefully jumping from one narrow ledge to another. "Those who escorted the younger students to the cave have returned and armed themselves. The snake fiends have been locked up and the main door has been sealed to prevent students from setting off the traps. The only request you made that I have no confirmation of is the caster. We sent word to her yesterday and have yet to receive a response. My suggestion is that we don't depend on this woman to arrive in time to help us."

Selenia drops off the rope and watches the calico land in a crouch. "I didn't expect her to arrive in time for the battle. My request was made in case the Lich wins and this academy has to be wiped off the face of Windemere. If we do survive, I can ask the caster for extra wards and protection spells to be put on the academy. No matter our fate, she will have work to do."

"We'll do our best. You ready for this, Ms. Marley?" the nobleman asks as he clumsily gets to the ground.

"You men always think we're unprepared," Theresa retorts, adjusting one of her leather armor straps. "At least I have armor on, pretty boy."

Daniel is dressed in simple leather pants and a flashy nobleman's shirt made of flawless, white silk. The expensive-looking shirt has a blue vest sewn onto it with embroidery of two crimson dragons that are disguised as vines. He finishes buttoning the vest's silver buttons and tightens his boots as Theresa calmly twirls her daggers. They share a challenging glare at each other as they follow Selenia into the bustling mob of students.

"I don't follow your concern, Selenia. We are as prepared as we could be," Daniel assures the headmistress. He pulls his longsword in and out of the sheath a few times to make sure it is loose. "The younger students are safe and Kellia is hidden. All we must do is hold out against whatever is coming until help arrives. This caster friend of yours will show up in time since we mentioned a Lich and Duke Solomon's heir are involved. I mean, she is very powerful, so she won't have any trouble with this Lich. She also helps to keep the governments of Ralian safe from those who would disturb them. This situation is exactly what she gets herself involved in. Unless her interests have changed since I last heard of her."

"The pretty boy has a point. Your paranoia might not be founded, Selenia," Theresa claims, her tail swishing through the air. "There's a chance nothing will happen until Luke and his friends return. That gives us a priest, a caster, another warrior, and whatever Nimby is. The drite is another factor we should remember."

Selenia has deep bags under her eyes, but standing in her chainmail, she still looks ready to fight. She adjusts a bronze ring on her left hand, taking relief from the feel of protective magic pulsing through her bones. The great mercenary observes her academy, quietly watching the students prepare for the battle. Her eyes stop on a young dwarf, who is setting up a catapult. It is obvious he was crying, but he is still going through with his orders. It slowly dawns on the headmistress that she is once again the leader of a small army.

"We can do this," she quietly declares, her hands balling into fists. With a renewed fire in her eyes, she turns back to the other warriors. "Like I said, that woman won't be showing up for a long time. We also can't be sure if Luke and his friends will return in time. They could be away for hours or days depending on what happens with the demon. They could even come back injured, exhausted, and useless. So, understand and accept that everyone in this academy is all we have to work with. Look around and you will see that my students are every bit as courageous as the three of us. While I agree that many of them are not entirely ready for this, all of them are determined to follow my orders. I won't be the one to hide them from this or to call for a retreat. We fight to win, not to buy our allies enough time to rescue us."

"I agree with you on that. These kids are making me proud already," Kevin says as he approaches. He is decked out in polished chainmail and his shortsword is in his hand. An arrowhead-shaped shield made of mottled steel and beads of Elven glass is loosely strapped to his arm. The old warrior moves carefully and grimaces of pain cross his face as he walks without his cane.

"Theresa, I want you to stay with Kellia in case something gets past the wards and into her room. Take a pair of longbows and arrows if you think you two can shoot from the window without being noticed. Daniel will lead the forces on the south wall," Selenia swiftly orders before facing Kevin. She barely notices the younger warriors bowing their heads and leaving for their positions. "What did your sword show you, old man?"

The veteran leans on a pile of boulders for the catapults and rubs at his aching leg. "I saw an army that will arrive in a few minutes. It's composed of a cyclops and a horde of spadix. I always hated those scorpion things. You think the kids can handle this? The cyclops will be something they can leave to those with experience, but the spadix are another story. Even if they avoid the pincers and weapons, those things are lightning fast with their poison stingers. Maybe we should have everyone evacuate and leave the battle to the experienced staff and advanced students."

Selenia is quiet as she thinks about what is heading toward her students. She slowly unsheaths her longsword, running a gloved hand along its flawless blade. Kevin nods without her having to say a word and makes his way to the northern forces. The headmistress stretches her arms as she heads for her spot on the wall. Duggan is there furiously barking orders at the students as she climbs the stairs and takes her position.

"About time you showed up, Selenia. Looks like your old friend remembers you fondly," the dwarf says, pointing his gauntleted hand toward Visindor Forest. "I did the best I could with the weapons. Being rushed doesn't help a smith make a stockpile. Now, we can only pray that the Holy One is smiling on my work because we're going to need his help."

Putting her hands on the wall, the former Mercenary Queen watches a swarm of dark crimson flow through the forest. The red figures resemble hairless, muscular humans from the waist up, each one wielding rusty weapons. All of the students gasp and shy away from the wall when they see the creatures have the horrid bodies of scorpions. Many warriors whisper prayers to the gods at the sight of the curved barbs along the monsters' skin and a sea of seven-foot, stinger-tipped tails. Two arms with giant pincers jut out from their enemies' waists, snapping at anything that comes within reach. Occasionally, one of the smaller creatures gets too close to one of its bigger brethren and is viciously snapped in two by a pincer.

"Those spadix get uglier every time I see them," Duggan mutters.

Selenia forces a smile, which turns into a frown when she notices larger figures pushing their way through the trees. Standing over twenty-five feet tall, the ten cyclopses make a slow, booming advance. A few of them are carrying a large tree as a makeshift club. She curses when she sees a cyclops standing in the back, looming much bigger than the others.

"Damn Kevin and his vision sword. That's more than one cyclops and that big guy looks to be almost forty feet tall. I've met giants smaller than him," she says as the monster army swarms into the killing field. "Well, I'm not one to wait for our guests to knock on the door, old dwarf. Let's be the ones to draw first blood. Everyone prepare for battle! Archers and catapults! Prepare to fire on the eastern side! Wait for my signal!"

The headmistress raises her longsword above her head, the weapon crackling with electricity. Duggan has his crab-shell shield aimed at one the cyclopses and nods to his trusted boss after mumbling a quick prayer. He concentrates on the shield, causing a jet of water to erupt from the front of the magical device. Selenia lowers her sword to release a screeching lightning bolt along the water blast. It strikes the cyclops in the face and the towering giant collapses in a twitching heap on top of several of the spadix.

Once the dead monster hits the ground, the archers and catapults fire into the oncoming swarm. At first, the barrage keeps the shrieking creatures at bay and three more cyclopses are killed. The tide turns when many of the spadix pull out longbows and fire barbed arrows over the wall. A cyclops hurls a tree into the academy, crushing two of the catapults along with five students. Selenia glances at the bodies and steps onto the edge of the wall before dropping into the killing field to meet the approaching enemy. She is a whirlwind of polished steel, sending spadix parts everywhere as she cuts a path through their forces.

"Now this is my kind of strategy!" Duggan shouts.

The dwarf leaps from the wall, his heavily armored body landing with a crash on top of a spadix. He can feel the monster's body crumple and gush underneath his feet. With an echoing battle cry, Duggan gleefully knocks monsters away with his war hammer. Urging them on, he waves at the squads led by Thomas and Kevin as they rush around the corners, intercepting the monsters within a few feet of the wall. The two forces meet with a terrifying clash of battle and screams.

The enormous cyclops reaches the battlefield and charges Selenia, the monster waving a massive club. She gets her sword up to block the attack, but is still knocked into the academy by the blow. The half-elven warrior grabs the edge of the wall and does a mid-air flip to land on the walkway. From above the action, she sees students getting skewered by tail stingers and shredded by snapping pincers. Another cyclops is killed by a boulder getting embedded in its chest, the dying behemoth pitching forward. A group of archers leap out of the way as the body crashes into the wall, creating a gaping hole for the spadix to swarm through.

"Everybody retreat into the academy! Use your knowledge of the grounds to your advantage!" Selenia shouts, dropping from the walkway.

She darts past a group of axe fighters and dives into the sea of monsters. The creatures try to stab her with their stingers, but they hit each other if they manage to hit anything at all. Selenia gracefully moves among them as she slashes through bodies, enjoying the feel of their crude weapons harmlessly bouncing off her body. Every crude weapon is deflected by an invisible coating of magic, allowing her to build a frightening amount of speed and momentum. Focused on the approaching cyclops, Selenia growls when a stinger pierces her leg.

"Son of a bitch!" she screams, yanking the stinger out and jamming it into the face of another spadix.

Selenia stumbles back, immediately feeling warm and faint. It is not long before she can feel her blood boiling, but a sudden pain in her side quickly clears the poison's effects. Kevin and Duggan rush to protectively flank their leader, giving her time to recover. The dwarf gleefully bashes the surrounding spadix into the ground while the other man stands his ground, swiftly attacking any that come near him. Even with his limited mobility, the old warrior is impossible to hit as he expertly blocks and counterattacks the spadix.

"Did one of you do this?" she asks as she blocks a pincer and points at the fresh cut on her side. Both men shake their head and move away from her to push the enemy back.

"More are coming!" shouts one of the archers from the wall.

All of the students are desperately fighting and struggling to hold onto their courage. Selenia sees one of the Dwarven students get stabbed in the shoulder by a stinger. The student lops off the tail with his axe and savagely cleaves the monster's face in two before stumbling from the poison. The headmistress is already racing toward him when a curved blade on a chain flies into view, harmlessly cuts him, and disappears into the crowd. The steady wind changes, allowing Selenia to catch the brief scent of the magic anti-toxin they keep in the infirmary.

"Someone is using their head," she whispers as the next wave of monsters enters the academy. A cyclops approaches her, the beast easily killed by a thundering blast of lightning from her sword.

*****

"I think I'll wait over here," Nimby says. He shifts uncomfortably as he watches the massive horde of spadix swarming into the academy.

"That mess is not something I want to run into, but there are people in there we have to protect," Luke explains, carefully scanning the area and forming a plan of attack. "All I need you to do is help that bigger group of students hold the front door. You're a thief, so it shouldn't be hard for you to sneak into the spadix's presence and cause some chaos. A little stab here and a few sling stones there should be enough to get them riled and confused. They don't look smart enough to figure out that someone is causing them to fight amongst themselves."

"Guess we can agree on their lack of intelligence," the halfling nervously whispers, biting his lip until it bleeds. They hear Duggan's scream of anger before a few spadix get knocked through a hole in the wall. "Although you make my job sound a lot easier than it really is. What are you going to do?"

The half-elf draws his sabers and twirls them in his hand, the feel of their hilts giving him clarity. "I'm going to charge at the academy and get the attention of that really big cyclops, so you don't get noticed. Then, I'm going through that hole in the wall because that's where the least amount of defenders are. Stay on the edge of the forest when you're moving into position. Sprint across the killing field as soon as you see the cyclops paying attention to me. No clue what he'll do, so don't stop to help me. Just get into the academy."

"Is it for her?"

"What? This isn't the time, Nimby."

"Tell me, Luke. We're friends. So, are you running in because you feel it's your job or because Kira is in danger?"

"Both," Luke answers without hesitation. "I have to do this to prove that I'm a hero and not some famous name. I know that I always say that and you're sick of hearing it. I'll probably be saying it until I feel that I earned my reputation, but none of that matters right now. This kind of situation is what I was destined for ever since I picked up a sword. As for Kira, I swear I'll carve out that giant cyclops's eye and feed it to him if he's gotten his house-sized hands on her. That a good enough answer?"

"It'll do, but I could have done without the thought of those over-sized hands. That thing's little finger could squish me into the ground," the thief says with a shudder.

"Don't remind me," the half-elf mutters, taking a cautious step into the open. "Start moving that way and keep an eye out for an opening."

Nimby looks doubtful as he takes a deep breath and sneaks along the edge of the forest. He draws his shortsword, keeping his eyes on the roaring behemoth that has stomped its way into the academy. The screams of the students and the inhuman howls of the spadix make him count to ten in an effort to calm his nerves. Never trained for large-scale combat, the thief has trouble handling his fear, his instincts telling him to run and hide. His feet are shifting towards the safety of Visindor Forest when he glances at Luke. Something about the young warrior's determined expression, gives him the courage he needs to hold his ground.

The halfling sets his sight on the mob of spadix as Luke rushes toward the academy, the warrior shouting at the cyclops. Nimby runs as soon as the monster turns toward his friend and shakes the trees with a terrifying roar. The echoing bellow sends shivers down the thief's spine as he races across the killing field. Clutching his shortsword, the halfling slides under the nearest spadix and stabs it in the leg. Withdrawing his blade, he rolls under another spadix and scrambles out of view of his first victim. The startled monster turns toward one of its brethren, growling in primal anger. Nimby darts behind another spadix, hitting it in the head with a broken dagger from the ground. The spadix whirls around as the thief vanishes into the crowd, the mass of crimson bodies easily hiding him. The enraged monster locks its sight on a spadix wielding long knives with its human arms. It screeches and pounces on its ally in order to dig the other's heart out. Nimby is through the front door and away from the creatures as the mob fights amongst themselves. Green poison and brown blood splatter against the wall as they furiously rip into each other. The students retreat into the academy, closing and barring the heavy doors as the spadix kill each other on the other side.

"Guess they were dumber than I thought," Nimby laughs, crawling out from behind a crate. A strong hand claps him on the shoulder and he spins around with a high-pitched yelp to face Daniel Skyblade. The warrior's clothing is covered in blood and there is a shallow cut across his throat.

"I take it you're the one behind that insanity," the nobleman says, signaling for the students to drink their healing potions and check their gear. "You bought us some time before they remember why they're here. Where are the others?"

"Aedyn, Fizzle, and Fritz stayed behind to clean up demon guts. If you ask me, they got the easy and much prettier job. As you can guess, the Hellfire Elf is gone for now after the beating Luke gave it," Nimby reports, still struggling to catch his breath. "Speaking of Luke, he went to the other side of the academy. From the crashes and roars, I think he's still in the killing field dodging whatever that giant cyclops is throwing at him. I'm supposed to help you defend the front gate."

Daniel hands the thief a small crossbow and two cases of bolts. "I thank you for your help and I pray Luke will change the tide for our allies like you have done for us. I trust your aim is true, my friend, for the perfect aim of a halfling is a sign of good luck. Yet, if we are set to die then I am honored to fight by your side."

"You're in pep talk mode," the halfling mutters under his breath. He clears his throat and looks up at the bloodied warrior. "Thanks for the encouragement. Since we're being honest, I have to admit that I'd much rather be hiding in the forest right now."

With a sudden shattering crash, the spadix break down the front doors and the students meet their charge. Nimby stays near Daniel, but they get separated in the opening chaos of battle. The next thing the halfling knows, he is pinned under the twitching corpse of a spadix.

*****

The catapult crashes off to Luke's right as he continues charging toward the academy. A familiar equipment shed soars past him before corpses are thrown into his path by the towering cyclops. He recognizes all of the bodies that hit the ground around him and he lets loose an echoing scream of fury. Luke sprints even faster toward the hole in the wall, zigzagging to avoid the falling debris. With a violent crash, he dives into the horde of spadix and slashes his way into the academy. Within seconds, the half-elf is covered in brown blood, his screams vanishing among the chorus of metal slicing through thick skin.

At first the spadix are startled and blindly retreat from the forest tracker, but they soon realize it is only a young boy attacking them. They surround Luke, forcing him to dodge an onslaught of stinger tails, pincers, and weapons. Desperate to survive, he slashes at any opening that gets within reach of his sabers. After eviscerating three monsters with a spinning slash, he tries to leap to safety, but is knocked into the air by a swinging pincer. Luke kicks a stinger out of his way as he falls between two spadix, slicing both of them across the throat.

"Let me through!" he shouts, pushing through the last line of enemies and coming face-to-face with Selenia. The blood-soaked warriors feel tremors in the ground as the giant cyclops approaches them.

Luke says nothing to Selenia as he races toward the monster and dives past it. A quick slash at the back of its leathery heel goes unnoticed while the headmistress leaps onto its foot and climbs up its ragged clothing. She stabs deep into its kneecap, causing the cyclops to violently shake her off and send her crashing through the door to the Grandguard dorm. The giant lifts its foot to step toward her, pausing when a spear thuds into its cheek.

"Come and get me!" Luke yells, running toward the middle of the academy. A few steps by the cyclops brings it within reach of the half-elf while two spadix break through a group of students. He is distracted by the cyclops lifting its foot, which leaves him open to getting hit by a stinger in the arm. Ignoring the pain, the young warrior dives and rolls between the spadix as the mud-crusted foot smashes and grinds them into the ground.

Luke stumbles away from the crushed monsters as the poison starts to take effect. The cyclops grabs the forest tracker, whose body is wracked by a burning sensation and muscle spasms. He is barely off the ground when a sharp pain hits his arm and the poison is purged from his system, the green ooze seeping out of a fresh wound. Wrinkling his nose, he can smell a very potent anti-toxin coming from the cut.

"I definitely owe somebody."

The cyclops squeezes Luke in its hand, but the forest tracker is saved by the angle he is holding his sabers. He digs and twists his sabers into the soft palm of the giant, but the pain is only enough to prevent it from crushing him. With a howl of primal frustration, the cyclops moves the warrior closer to his drooling mouth.

A lightning bolt hits the creature in the stomach causing it to exhale a gust of foul-smelling air and putrid spit. Luke is dropped in front of Selenia and they split up to dodge another ground-quaking stomp. The headmistress runs behind the cyclops to nimbly climb the back of its pant leg. The giant reaches down to smash her against its leg when the mysterious chain and sickle weapon flies out at one of its fingers. With a loud snap, the curved blade sticks into the middle of the rotten nail. The cyclops bellows in surprise and pain as the weapon yanks the nail off the finger.

"Is there anybody in my academy without a secret this semester?" Selenia asks, looking down to see Kira clumsily stumble away from the fallen nail.

The bronze-skinned student has a long chain loosely wrapped around her left arm, the weapon ending in a curved sickle. The blade is connected to the chain by a foot of bare metal that she clutches in her right hand. Two medical satchels are dangling at her sides, the stoppered top of a bottle sticking out of one of them.

Kira scrambles to her feet in a panicked attempt to run away from the cyclops. The monster raises its foot to squish her, but stops when Selenia stabs it in the back of the knee, her longsword sinking up to the hilt. The growling cyclops pauses long enough for Luke to shoulder rush the young woman out of the way. He flips his sabers upwards when he sees the creature's foot coming toward him, the half-elf waiting for the perfect moment. Before the bare foot can finish its awkward descent, Luke runs out of the way while swinging his blades and dragging them through the leathery flesh.

"Don't ever try that again!" he shouts at Kira. He backs toward the fountain, cautiously watching the cyclops limp in pain.

"Toss me one of those bottles, Grasdon!" Selenia yells, fighting to hang onto the cyclops.

Kira throws one of the anti-toxin bottles to the headmistress, who slices into the monster's leg and shatters the bottle on the fresh wound. Without any poison to destroy, the magical liquid burns into the damaged flesh and eats at the leg muscles. Selenia tries to climb further up, but the pants tear and she falls to the ground. The former mercenary is on her feet in an instant, carefully backing toward Luke.

"This is a stalemate until he steps on us. Got any ideas, headmistress?" he asks as they retreat a few steps. He can hear the gurgling fountain behind them as the cyclops roars in frustration.

"Give me a minute to think. A cyclops of this size and power isn't natural."

"That isn't reassuring."

A glimmer in the eye of the cyclops draws their attention, the two warriors leaping out of the way of a spiraling blast of green energy. The grass where they were standing is left brown and dead as the cyclops fires another beam at Selenia. She blocks it with her sword, the deadly magic absorbed by the enchanted blade. The force of the attack shoves her back several yards, leaving shallow ruts in the ground. The cyclops turns toward Luke, who retreats until he bumps into the fountain.

"Catch, kid!" Kevin shouts, hurling his magic shield to the younger warrior.

The half-elf catches the piece of armor as the death beam races toward him. He awkwardly gets the shield up in time to reflect the blast back at the cyclops. The energy hits it in the eye, melting the bulbous orb into white ooze. A large shockwave ripples through the earth as the screaming monster jumps and flails with all its might. With one savage stomp, a wave ripples along the ground and tosses Luke into the fountain.

"What do we have to do to kill this thing?" he groans, hurrying to the rim.

The cyclops charges at the fountain, but its run abruptly turns into a clumsy stumble. Unable to get out of the way, the young warrior nervously watches the monster pitch forward and impale its throat on the angel statue's sword. A spray of blood covers Luke, who is in shock and quietly trying to figure out what just happened.

"Hope you didn't plan on being the hero this time," Nimby says, walking up to his friend with a wide grin. The halfling has a few small cuts on his arms and is covered in slick spadix blood.

Everyone cheers as the remaining monsters retreat into the forest. As the last of the hideous spadix vanish into the tree line, the students gather behind Selenia, who is calmly approaching the fountain. Kira frantically pushes her way through the crowd, even shoving the headmistress to the side, to help Luke out of the water. She tries very hard to ignore the thick blood dripping off of him.

"What are you talking about, Nimby? Did Selenia or Kevin get it?" Luke asks.

The halfling proudly points at the large corpse and the half-elf obediently follows the path of his finger. Embedded in the base of the monster's skull is Nimby's shortsword, the sliver of exposed blade glinting in the sunlight. "I was actually aiming for an inch more to the left so the big guy would drop and not get that extra step."

"That is the greatest shot in the history of Windemere. I think I'll hide behind you from now on. If you were Kira, I would kiss you."

Kira and Nimby both ask, "What was that?"

Luke blushes under the gore, struggling to think of a way to defend what he said when Selenia clears her throat. Her longsword is sheathed and a genuine smile of pride dances across her face. Everyone moves aside as Kevin limps his way through the crowd with the help of Daniel. Both warriors are gasping for air and grinning as they take in the sight of the dead cyclops. The somber mood is broken by Duggan shouting Dwarven curses at the retreating spadix from the top of wall. A few students laugh at the bellowing dwarf, stopping when he threatens them with a wave of his war hammer.

"I'm proud and impressed with everyone. I don't even know how to put into words how shocked I am that Nimby killed this bastard," Selenia says, exhaustion starting to set into her bones. She rubs her eyes and flexes her shoulders, cringing at their rapid popping. "As for you, Kira, I never thought you would be one of the people who saved my life. For your actions, I have a special assignment for you. I want you to take two classmates and tell the students in the cave that the academy is safe. Now, Luke, I want you to take a bath and give your clothes to Betty for them to get cleaned. Duggan or Kevin can take care of your armor patches, but that may take some time. I want to see you in my office within two hours. Aedyn and Fritz should be back soon, but I'll need them and Nimby to help with the repairs. You'll be on your own for a while, kid, so don't overexert yourself."

Luke nods as Selenia turns on her heel and heads for the administrative building. He avoids eye contact with the crowd of students surrounding him as he cleans his sabers with a waterskin he finds by a dead spadix. Nimby and Kira watch as he silently wanders off to take a bath and prepare himself for whatever is next.

"You think he'll be ok?" Kira asks, her voice full of concern.

"He's made it this far, but I don't want to make any bets on his next fight," the halfling replies, climbing the dead cyclops to retrieve his shortsword. He slides down the corpse and gracefully lands on the rim of the fountain. "That Lich gave Aedyn a hard time and if a priest trained to take out the undead has trouble then it might be impossible for a non-magical warrior like Luke to win. Though, I guess you already knew that. Anyway, I need to gather my students to fix the wall. I should be exempt from this since I'm the true hero of this adventure."

Kira sneaks behind the nearest building, the terror from her first battle and the worry of what Luke will go through finally hitting her. She drops her weapon and sinks to her knees as uncontrollable sobs wrack her body. A twisting knot grows in her stomach, the aching feeling too much for her to ignore.

"I'm going to throw up," she whispers, clutching her gut with both arms.
15

It has been eight hours since the battle ended and the academy is filled with activity and blaring noise. Logs and metal support bars litter the killing field while students and teachers build new sections for the heavily damaged wall. The repairs are moving slowly since most of the students are helping Duggan chop up and cart the dead monsters to the edge of the Caster Swamp. Once there, the bodies are thrown into a large bonfire, which Aedyn magically keeps under control. The stench of burning meat and poison wafts into the academy grounds whenever the breeze is right. It is a tolerable inconvenience while the injured are tended to in and around the overwhelmed infirmary.

"No good deed goes unpunished, huh?" Nimby jokes, measuring support beams for the wall repairs.

"I don't know about that. Being ordered to work on fixing the academy is a nice change of pace from what we've been up to lately," Fritz claims, happily working on plans to make the wall stronger. "I missed doing work that didn't involve putting my life on the line. Can you hand me that ruler? Thanks."

"True. To be honest, I was terrified when Luke and I entered the battle. It was so chaotic and loud," the halfling admits with a shiver. He pauses to check the markings on the lumber, fixing a few that would make the beam too short. "I've heard stories about how you can barely tell your allies from your enemies in full-scale melees, but I never believed them. The only thing that kept me focused was the sea of poisonous stingers and snapping pincers."

Fritz looks up from his plans and chews on the end of his glasses. "It's interesting that very few of the buildings were damaged. The spadix and cyclopes got into the academy and the worst they did was put a hole in the teacher's dormitory. I always thought a swarm of monsters resulted in total destruction instead of selective damage. Maybe fighting back kept them from going after the scenery or the Lich ordered them to leave the buildings alone. Either way, I guess we should thank the gods for small favors. How long will it take to finish preparing the beams?"

"Probably another hour to get them cut and coated in hardening sap," Nimby replies, handing the measured lumber to a crowd of students. They run the beams out to the killing field while he starts on the wood for the damaged dormitory. "What if the controlling magic was so powerful that they had to avoid attacking anything they weren't told to destroy? For example, if the monsters were magically compelled to kill every living thing in the academy then they wouldn't go out of their way to destroy a building. This would explain why something as large as a forty-foot cyclops didn't cause a lot of property damage."

"That could be the reason," the gnome says, returning most of his attention to his schematics. "Though, that big guy sure left a mess in the courtyard. Selenia has to send for a specialist to remove the footprints from the ground and cleanse the fountain. That is unless Luke makes her angry and is punished by having to do all that by hand. I wouldn't envy anyone who has to scrub away at drying cyclops gore."

"I can easily see him doing that."

"That should do it. The fortifications will be stronger with these extra beams attached to the interior of the wall. They should soak up more force from anything battering against them like that big guy."

The halfling angrily snatches the plans out of Fritz's hand and tosses the papers over his shoulder toward a waiting student. "Why did you have to change the design? I already prepared all the support beams we would need. Now I have to make extra with Selenia giving me a deadline to finish the repairs by tomorrow night. Come to think of it, I've no idea why you're here instead of with your students."

"There's nothing else to do since classes are cancelled for the rest of the week," the gnome states, tucking his hands into his pockets and wistfully gazing around the courtyard. "I have my class disassembling the catapults, but they don't need my supervision for that. So I decided to help Selenia by thinking ahead. Besides, you and your students can easily finish this job before the deadline."

"You left your class unattended with the catapults? That doesn't sound like a good idea."

A whistling sound catches Fritz's attention and he turns away from Nimby in time to see a swarm of pillows soaring through the air. The soft projectiles sail across the academy and disappear behind the Elfstar dormitory. An instant later, another swarm of pillows appear from the area where the earlier ones had gone. Fritz chuckles to himself as everyone watches the fluffy objects fly from one end of the academy to the other. It is not until there is a long pause in the action that the old gnome begins to worry. As he feared, the sound of a catapult followed by a student screaming breaks the silence. Groaning, Fritz turns to see a gnome strapped between two mattresses, the student flipping through the air. The living projectile bounces off the roof of the Elfstar dormitory and crashes into a tree.

"At least he was protected," Fritz claims, refusing to look at his friend.

"Maybe Selenia will only punish you with deducted pay for a month. After all, nothing was damaged and the student looks to be in one piece. He's stuck in a tree that the rest of your class can't . . ." Nimby says. He pauses when the mattress-encased gnome gets knocked out of the branches by a flying ball of wet towels. "Never mind. I should have expected them to launch things at him to get him down. I'm impressed they got him with the first shot."

Fritz hangs his head in embarrassment and walks away. "You can't say the battle did any damage to their spirits. I'll talk to you later, Nimby."

The halfling turns back to his students to find they have already finished the support beams and are carrying them to the building groups. He follows them, but stops when an amusing sight marches into the courtyard. Aedyn is visibly embarrassed as Roland carries him into the academy. The large student has the priest draped over his back in a mutually humiliating form of piggyback. Nobody dares to laugh when Roland glares, a frightening expression due to the gaping hole where his left eye used to be. Students are still talking about how the young man took a stinger to the eye and continued fighting.

"Would you be able to watch him, sir?" Roland asks Nimby, letting the priest down. "I have to go to the infirmary and get my eye looked at."

"Is everything okay?" the halfling asks, moving to help his friend sit on a nearby stool. "I was surprised to hear you demanded permission to help with the clean-up given your injury."

"The academy needed my help and I can still see. Kira saved me from the poison as soon as I was hit and Kevin stopped the bleeding after the battle," the young man proudly states, reflexively standing at attention. "I only need to get fitted for an eye-patch. It'll make me stand out even more now and might even get me out of a few fights in the future. Cowards tend to view guys with eye-patches as too dangerous to challenge."

"That's true. There's also the story to go along with your injury. You can get some women with that," Nimby points out. He shakes his head and grimaces in self-loathing. "Sorry. Fritz walked away and he would have wanted someone to say that in his place."

"I'll keep that in mind. Tell Aedyn that he doesn't owe me for the ride."

Nimby turns to find the half-elf already struggling to his feet and reaching for a flask of water hidden beneath his robes. The priest does not look as tired as he did when he first arrived, but his skin is paler than usual and his lips are cracked. His filthy clothes are dotted with a few smoking singe marks and his hands are covered in soot. The halfling notices that Aedyn's staff is no longer the six-foot, finely crafted weapon it once was. The sheen of the wood has been replaced by charred black and white flakes come off wherever it is touched. The priest puts the staff down and it crumbles into ashy dust that is blown away by the gentle breeze.

Nimby wipes some remains off his shirt, coughing as he inhales some. "I hope that staff wasn't important to you."

"It was from my order, but I can request another one," Aedyn replies after another sip of water. "Thankfully, staves are cheap to make and easy to come by."

"Tough spell, huh?"

"The fire was stronger than I expected because it reacted with the spell used to control the monsters. I had to use my staff as part of the containment field to prevent the fire from spreading," the priest explains, stopping to yawn and smile. "Overall, I would have to rank it as one of the least challenging moments of the last few days."

"It's good to see you smiling, Aedyn. Before Luke showed up, you were always off by yourself looking rather dour," Nimby claims with a friendly punch to his friend's knee.

Aedyn falls as his leg gives out and he crashes on top of the halfling. "Why did you think hitting a weak man in the back of the knee was a good idea?"

"It never got me in trouble before," Nimby admits as he crawls out from under the exhausted priest. "Then again, I'd normally do it to knock a person down and take their gold. Those were the good old days when I stole for a living instead of battling monsters."

"You are openly talking about your past now? That is a surprising change," the half-elf mentions, dragging himself into a sitting position.

"I've nothing to be ashamed of. Those were choices I made and they turned me into the halfling I am today," the halfling admits before he leans closer to Aedyn to whisper. "Of course, I trust you won't tell Selenia and the students. No matter how I feel, people tend to be nervous around retired thieves."

"Your secret stays with me. So, where is Fritz? He said he would be helping you."

"His students used a catapult to launch a mattress-wearing gnome into a tree. Fritz is finally acting like a real teacher and putting a stop to their horsing around," Nimby says with an amused chuckle. He watches the students work on the repairs, several of them showing signs of crying recently. "You're being emotive, Fritz is being responsible, and I'm being honest. Our lives sure have changed ever since Luke came along. I'm still not sure if it's a good thing."

"You must realize that we have had an effect on him too. Luke has become less impulsive and more mature since meeting us," Aedyn claims, gently nodding at the halfling's expression of doubt. "Though, I think you have been a negative influence by convincing him to cause trouble. Just once I would like to hear him say no to one of your food-stealing schemes and childish pranks. Do not even get me started on Fritz trying to explain women to . . . do you hear flapping wings?"

Nimby looks into the sky where a gathering of clouds has dimmed the sinking sun. "Now that you mention it, I do hear something. I thought it was the wind picking up, but I definitely hear something flapping. I thought I saw something by the sun, but it might have been a trick of the light."

A brown blur breaks from the clouds and crashes into the top floor of the administrative building. Wood and brick crash to the ground and the sound of battle erupts from the gaping hole. Nimby is already rushing toward the building when a female scream is cut off by a bestial screech. A second of eerie silence follows before an elegant griffin glides out of the damaged building. The beast moves awkwardly in the air, a bedpost sticking out of its hind leg and the struggling Kellia in its talons. The heiress thrashes violently, stopping when she looks down to see the ground far below her. Everyone hears her cursing and swearing at the griffin as it passes over the academy.

*****

Selenia is reviewing the incident reports when the sound of a catapult going off causes her right eye to angrily twitch. "Fifty students were killed and only thirty-seven of them have bodies for us to send back to the families. That cyclops must have eaten the rest unless some students ran away and haven't returned. I'll be fixing this disaster for the next month or two with funerals to pay for and attend. That's not even accounting for the possibility of some families attempting to resurrect their child. Those are expensive and extremely risky, so I need to request all of my religious contacts to be on stand-by. You should know that I'm starting to regret letting you into my academy."

"I'm getting that feeling, but it could have been worse," Luke responds as he sits on the windowsill. "The academy could have been attacked with you having no idea that the Lich was back. The body count would have been higher if that was the case. If anything, my secret being revealed helped you protect your students."

"That is why I have not hit you yet."

The forest tracker's hair is still damp from his long bath, which washed away all of the blood and gore left from the cyclops. His clothes are being cleaned and repaired, so he is forced to wear some borrowed from some of his classmates. The brown breeches and white peasant's shirt with road-worn leather boots make him look more like a farmhand than a forest tracker. Only the polished sabers at his sides remind Selenia that this boy defeated a demon and fought by her side only a few hours ago.

Luke glances at the locked door leading to where Theresa and Kellia remain in hiding. With a horse-like sound of resignation, he goes back to watching his hard-working classmates repair the academy below. He can see Nimby helping with the wall repairs and Fritz supervising the breakdown of the catapults. After a few minutes, he sees Roland crossing the killing field, Aedyn hanging from his back. All of his friends are busy and Luke wishes he could have talked to them before Selenia gave them orders.

"This isn't over," she announces, snapping the younger half-elf out of his trance. "The Lich will try again. I know him far too well to believe that he will give up. He gets easily frustrated and there have been times that he's sent out monsters continuously for days. If he can't sneak to victory then he tries to bash his way to it with as many minions as he can gather."

The forest tracker moves away from the window as Fizzle lands on the warm ledge to take a nap in the sunlight. Bored and restless, the blonde half-elf takes a seat in the chair across from where Selenia is writing letters for the families of the deceased. A small laugh comes from the other room followed by some unintelligible murmurs. Luke ignores the noise, silently staring at the trophies displayed around the office. Most of them are severed claws, horns, and skulls kept in glass cases. A pair of leather wings draped over the windows holds his attention for a few seconds.

"I guess you're right," he says while stretching his legs. "The Hellfire Elf and the army that attacked the academy weren't meant to get to Kellia. None of the monsters made a move toward this building."

"The Hellfire Elf was sent to destroy you. I wonder if you were the real target all this time and Kellia was a way to get to you," Selenia admits as she counts the letters and makes a mark on her master list. A heavy sigh betrays her grief and wounded pride, emotions fed by the thought that she failed as a headmistress. "Although, the demon itself might have decided you were more important to kill. Those things can get obsessed when they think they've found a real challenge. As for the cyclopes and the spadix, those were sent to cripple the academy defenses and possibly eliminate me. We definitely have another move to expect from the Lich and it will be aimed at Kellia. He has to be getting impatient and sloppy, which always led to his defeat in the past. My only hope is that he doesn't come to the academy himself. The students would be a severe liability for me, which means he would have the advantage."

Luke leans forward in his chair, his curiosity peaked. "You seem to know this Lich very well."

Relieved to get a break from the letters, the headmistress reaches into her desk and pulls out a book with red cover. "I had a few friends research the area after I first encountered him about fifty years ago. Very little is known about his history, so what I'm going to tell you is mostly rumor. Documents hint that the necrocasters who ruled the Caster Swamp were gone within three months of this Lich's arrival, which was approximately five-hundred years ago. Many believe he was a master thief who absorbed the auras of the necrocasters in order to steal their power. This would explain why he has a unique magical repertoire with no spell theme like most casters. Some times he'll blast away with combat spells while other times he'll attack with transformation spells. I've even seen him use high level mind magic and all styles of summoning magic. Still, nobody knows where this specific Lich came from. Normally, one originates from a powerful necrocaster who refuses to accept death, but this one doesn't come off as having lived a life of magic prior to his transformation. Then, there's his lack of a focus minion, which, as far as I know, all necrocasters must have for their magic."

"I've heard of that. A necrocaster has a servant, which gets a share of their magical power in order to be stronger," Luke interjects, happy that he finally knows what someone is talking about in the field of magic. "They act like a manservant, but they're monsters. The Lich does have that Hellfire Elf."

Selenia glares at Luke until he apologetically stares at his boots. "The Hellfire Elf is a new servant. A focus minion would be old, experienced, and have a close bond with him. Any normal necrocaster would have a servant like this, but it's obvious that this Lich has never had an attached servant. That isn't even the least of his strangeness. Many Liches have a specific target group or goal in order to complete plans that they had when alive. This one has targeted people with no connection to each other. He has gone after homeless people, trained warriors, farmers, and pampered nobles. If he was a non-magical, regular person then I would think he was a serial killer."

"Where do you figure into all of this?" Luke asks, stifling a yawn and stretching his arms over his head. "I get that the Lich is a wild card and nobody knows where he came from. I don't see how you got mixed up with him."

"Twenty years before I entered the military and began my training under Kevin, I came to Visindor to choose a location for this academy," the former mercenary explains as she leans back in her chair. She stares at the ceiling where the faint outline of unfinished protection runes can be seen by those who know what to look for. "I encountered the Lich during an excursion into the Caster Swamp. He had a run-down castle that I mistook for an abandoned building. Being young, I ventured inside and came across him talking to someone. I never saw the other person, but that person saw me and hit me with a powerful ensnaring spell. I was captured and tortured by the Lich for a few days before I escaped. Then-"

"I assume you returned with an army."

"I immediately reported the incident to the officials in Gaia. They sent a small squad of knights into the Caster Swamp to get rid of the Lich," she continues, glaring at the young warrior for his interruption. "I joined them and got my chance to face him in battle. At the time, I was only able to win after I found my thunderclap longsword in his castle. He had broken my original sword and this one caught my eye."

Luke clears his throat and politely interrupts the headmistress again. "This doesn't sound like a unique meeting. It sounds rather common for adventurers."

"It does get strange, Luke. There was talk from him about destiny and how he had been waiting for me, but I've heard him say that to others," Selenia says as she opens the book and hands it to him. He sees a listing of dates and several names next to each one. "I've continually gone into the swamp to put him back in the ground. The second time was with my top mercenaries. The Lich repeated his destiny speech to Kevin who stabbed him in the face in the middle of his declaration. A few years later, I arrived to build the academy and the bastard was back. I led the Gaian army into the Caster Swamp because I wanted to finish him off for good. I thought I'd permanently destroyed him when I shattered his body and sealed his soul in a magical tomb he was preparing in his basement. To make sure it would be nearly impossible to revive him, I brought the castle down on his head. Apparently, someone learned of the Lich and woke him up."

"He sounds random, but also driven toward some goal," the young warrior says, handing the book back to Selenia. "Maybe after all this, I'll look into him some more. After all, he's tried to have me killed and chasing him would be a great adventure. I've been wondering why Zaria sent me this way and that Lich might be the reason."

The headmistress's eyebrow twitches at the mention of the Purity Goddess. She stands up and locks Luke's gaze with her own. "Zaria sent you to my academy? That shouldn't be taken lightly, boy. Fifty years ago, the great stag of Uli led me to this spot. I have heard that the gods appear in Visindor from time to time, but for two gods to give the same quest to two different warriors is suspicious. The Lich must have angered them long ago or he might pose more of a threat than I realized. Sadly, it appears that my part in all of this has passed and I'm merely a spectator."

A loud crash from the next room shakes the entire building. A roar-like screech can be heard from Kellia's room followed by Theresa screaming in anger. The two half-elves dash for the door, but a gust of wind knocks them away as soon as the headmistress touches the knob.

"An air shield. The Lich must have hidden the spell on whatever broke through the wall and set the magic to go off upon impact," Selenia mutters in frustration. She goes to the window and leans out to see a gaping hole where the wall of the next room used to be. "He is actually thinking this through."

"I think we can get in!"

He grabs the doorknob and the gust of wind starts again. He hangs on tight as the spell blows him off his feet, sending papers whirling around the office. Selenia grabs him by the arm, using him for leverage as she kicks in the door with a loud crunch. The gusts stops and the crashing door flings Luke into the room. He rolls across the floor, slamming shoulder-first into the remains of a dresser.

"That wasn't what I had in mind," he mutters as he looks around the decimated room.

Theresa is on the floor holding her stomach where something has left deep claw marks in her armor and flesh. Kellia is nowhere to be seen and her bed has been destroyed. Luke gets to his feet and catches a long feather that floats in from outside. Gazing out the gaping hole, he sees a winged beast in the distance with a flailing human in its claws.

"A griffin. Crashed through the wall," Theresa whispers between hacks and coughs. "It mauled me before I could react. Kellia jammed a bedpost into its hind leg, but she still got caught."

Selenia hears someone run past her, the footsteps heading straight toward the hole. She has no time to grab Luke, who yells a single word as his feet leave the broken ground. All the sounds of chaos in the academy stop when the students see a body launch from the top floor of the building and plummet.

Racing for the hole, Selenia wonders what the young warrior said when a streak of purple catches her eye. Fizzle chants loudly, turning into a full-sized roc and swooping below the falling half-elf. Luke gracefully lands on Fizzle's back and they fly after the distant griffin, the drite's large wings blocking the sun for a second. Selenia and the rest of the academy can only watch as they disappear over the forest.

"That boy is something else," Theresa laughs, wincing in pain.

*****

"Fizzle not like. Luke ever fight up high?" the drite asks, trying to catch up to the faster griffin. The ancient trees of Visindor shake and bend with every flap of his immense wings.

"I tried to catch a squirrel in a tree once," Luke replies, drawing his sabers. "It got away and I fell through the roof of a barn, but this is completely different."

"Fizzle no understand."

"Get me close enough to hit the griffin and everything should work out for the best!" Luke shouts over the roaring gusts of wind. "I've only seen tame griffins before, so I don't know how aggressive they can be! Any advice, Fizzle?"

"No fall. No get hit."

"Thanks."

The Caster Swamp looms in the distance by the time they catch up to the griffin. The beast is barely a mile ahead with a screaming Kellia held in its hind legs, blood covering her arm. As Theresa said, there is a wooden post sticking out of the griffin's thigh, which is causing it to gradually lose speed. The wind blows feathers off its hawk-like head and wings, several of them hitting Luke in the face. It is the first time he has ever been this close to a wild griffin and he is having trouble seeing it as anything other than a creature of elegant beauty.

"It's time to focus," Luke whispers before yelling to Fizzle. "You think we should approach from above or below? You're the expert at this altitude!"

Fizzle does not answer as he swoops below their target and slowly rises toward the other flying beast. Once in range, Luke stands on the drite's back and takes a quick swing at the griffin's underbelly. He nearly loses his balance from the force of his own attack, but gets his saber jammed between two ribs. The beast screeches in pain and looks down at the half-elf, taking a swipe at him with its front paws. Luke lets go of his stuck sword and tumbles, grabbing a handful of feathers to stay on his mount. Kellia is moved out of reach when Fizzle is forced to avoid a savage mauling to his head.

"Get me higher, Fizzle! If you get a little closer than last time, I can grab her!" Luke shouts, sheathing his remaining saber.

"Fizzle have other plan," the drite claims, making a wide turn and falling to about twenty feet above the Caster Swamp. He builds up speed as he swoops around a crumbling castle and pushes his wings to their limit. Fizzle catches an updraft and soars straight for the griffin, lowering his head to give Luke a clear path.

"Luke jump for sword!"

The half-elf races up his friend's body and leaps off the beak, their shared momentum sending Luke rocketing through the air. He grabs the saber at full speed and the impact pushes the blade up to the edge of the griffin's throat. As the sword slips free, Fizzle plunges his beak into the beast's stomach.

"I have to listen to Fizzle more often," the forest tracker mutters, twisting in mid-air and grabbing one of the beast's front paws. He sees Kellia get dropped, the heiress safely landing on the feathery back of the transformed drite.

Luke sheaths his saber and prepares to swing himself off the griffin when Kellia screams and points above him. "Luke! Look out!"

He flips around in time to see a snarling beak coming at his face. The half-elf swings around the leg and holds on as the griffin's snapping bite misses his nose. The warm, amber fur is oilier than he expected and he can feel his hands gradually slipping. He tries again to drop onto Fizzle's back, but the griffin makes a sudden turn and leaves the other beast behind. Luke stares down at the landscape and realizes they are back over Visindor.

"Bring Kellia to the ground! I can handle this! Come back for me as soon as she's safe!"

Fizzle nods in agreement and veers away to find a place to land. He shrinks and vanishes into the trees as the griffin makes another sharp turn. The movement snaps the young warrior to the side and he struggles to climb higher up the creature's legs.

Luke feels a dull pain in his shins when the griffin curls its body and awkwardly mauls him with its hind legs. A spurt of blood from its wounds hits the half-elf in the face as he kicks the powerful legs away. Not giving the beast time to recover, he swings his legs and plunges his foot into the hole in its stomach. It cries out in agony as he desperately kicks at the injury, his boots dripping with blood.

"I don't like doing this any more than you like it happening. I don't have a choice since you aren't interested in landing. This is breaking my heart, Uli."

With tears in his eyes, Luke makes a final kick, getting his foot caught in the wound. An ear-piercing screech erupts from the griffin as it dives toward the ground. Feeling an increase in speed, the young warrior frantically yanks at his foot until it pops free. He scrambles onto the beast's back seconds before they are engulfed by Visindor Forest.

Seeing a branch coming at his chest, Luke jumps backwards, hoping to slow his own descent. The solid limb slams into his ribs, knocking the wind out of his lungs. A wet snap tells him that at least one of his ribs is broken. He hangs on as the branch breaks and he crashes into a thorn bush below. The forest tracker crawls out of the bush as he hears the griffin slam into some nearby trees. Luke draws his sabers and cautiously makes his way along the path of shattered trees. He finds the beast against a boulder with blood and brain matter covering the stone. It has slammed headfirst into the boulder, but it is still breathing and making purring squawks. The half-elf kneels next to it, stroking its head as Fizzle returns.

"Aedyn on horse. Kellia safe. Luke sad?" Fizzle asks when he sees tears trickle down his friend's face.

"This is a beautiful creature. I really wish there was another way to stop it. I know the Lich controlled it, so it wasn't the griffin's fault," Luke explains, pulling a broken talon out of the shallow cut in his leg. "My grandfather would have found a way to save both Kellia and the griffin. Maybe I could have dropped and tried to break my fall in the treetops. I could have probably let go and had you catch me instead of sending you away with Kellia. There had to be some way to save it. Griffins are one of the purest and noblest of Kirin's creations. So, why did I kill it without a second thought?"

"Fizzle know goddess under . . . und . . . she know why," the drite says while patting Luke on the shoulder with his tail. "What you do now?"

The forest tracker continues stroking the mangled feathers of the beast. "I'll end its suffering then go after the Lich. I'll keep this talon as a reminder to think before I fight."

Luke grips his sabers and stands, taking a final look at the dying griffin and burning its image into his memory. An overhead chop cleanly severs its neck and he turns away so he does not have to watch the head roll into the bushes. Fizzle transforms into a dark yellow horse as Luke cleans his weapons and tucks the talon into his boot cuff.

"Luke nature friend. Griffin proud of Luke. Fizzle proud too. You keep all safe."

"You don't have to cheer me up or rationalize my actions, Fizzle. I'll be fine. I haven't had to do anything like that before," Luke calmly states, tears no longer on his face. He grimaces when he feels a sharp pain from a broken rib. "Give me a few minutes and I'll have my mind back on the Lich. Please, take me to the Caster Swamp, Fizzle. It's about time me and him meet."

*****

Kellia is quiet as she sits behind Aedyn on his horse, occasionally glancing in the direction Selenia and Daniel went to catch up to Luke. The heiress silently wonders if she is worth the risk that people are taking. She is still having trouble accepting the fact that her classmates fought to protect her from the monsters. Fifty of her fellow students would still be alive if she had never stepped foot into Hamilton Military Academy. Their sacrifice is something she never dreamed anyone would ever do for her. Then again, she has found herself in a situation that she never could have imagined.

"I don't deserve all of this," she whispers as they slowly ride back to the academy.

"Of course you deserve this, your highness. You are of royal blood and you are important to the future of Serab," Aedyn politely contends. He struggles to control the unfamiliar horse that continues trying to wander off course. "Although, I think your classmates and Luke would have done it for anybody. Selenia always tells you to defend those who require protection even if you have a petty problem with them. To do otherwise would be a disgrace to your teachers and yourself."

"That's a warrior's code. Why do you do it?"

"One of my pledges is to protect those who have been marked by the undead," the priest answers in his usual dry tone. He runs a hand through his black hair, tucking some loose strands behind his pointy ears. "You are marked by my enemy, so I must protect you. The fact that you have rather barbaric social skills is not a factor."

Kellia lets out a sigh and gives her companion a very weak punch to the arm. Even with her restraint, Aedyn feels a sore spot where she hit him and frowns. She blushes and turns away, her daydreaming immediately broken when the horse rears back and nearly throws her off. Standing in their way is an elderly Elven woman, who is leaning on her gnarled staff. Her gray hair is braided, hanging down to her ankles and she watches the pair with intense, lavender eyes. Kellia is mesmerized by the elf's cloak, which shimmers metallically as it waves in the wind.

"I am looking for the Hamilton Military Academy," the woman announces as Aedyn gets off his horse. "Selenia Hamilton has requested my services. It has been a long time since I traveled through Visindor Forest and I seem to have lost my way. Can you help me?"

"We are heading there now, milady," the young priest says with a gentlemanly bow. "I would be honored to escort a woman of your status to the academy. You may ride on my horse while I walk alongside."

"My status? An interesting use of words, Aedyn Karwyn. You are very polite and noble in your speech, which I find unique for a half-elf," she admits as she accepts his help getting onto the horse. Kellia timidly steadies the woman in front of her on the saddle, being sure not put any pressure on the frail stranger. "It would do you some good to adopt manners like his, Kellia Solomon. They will be useful when you assume the throne."

"I don't believe I've ever met you before," the heiress nervously stammers.

"Again, you are being rude to those you do not know," the mysterious elf says with a friendly smirk. "I guess it comes with your age and your mother's blood. I have never met either of you, but I still know about you. That is all you need to know about it. Now, was the damage to the academy severe?"

Surprised by the question, Aedyn takes some time before answering, "The front doors are badly damaged and pieces of the wall are missing. Only one dormitory received significant damage during the battle and a few archer posts were knocked down. Sorry, but I forgot recent events. There is also a hole in the administrative building from where a griffin broke in to take Kellia. Miss Hamilton and Lord Skyblade have left for the swamp to see if they can find the Lich responsible for all of this."

"I see. So, who saved this young lady?"

"That would be Luke Callindor. A new student at the academy and-" Aedyn starts as they the killing field appears through the trees.

"Ah, the young Callindor has finally left the nest. It has been ages since I have seen him. I wonder if he still cries when he sees a spider."

"You must be a caster of great power with all that you know about us," the priest declares in youthful wonder. "May I ask your name? If you feel that I am not worthy of hearing it then I understand."

The woman lets out a delicate laugh, the sound trilling like a song. Several birds chirp along with her and Kellia can swear the withered trees are becoming healthier. She has heard stories of Elven casters who grew old enough to gain the power to effect nature with simple gestures. The heiress timidly watches the elf with a renewed sense of respect and awe.

"I have been told about you and your friends by Selenia in the same message that asked me to repair her damaged wards. I do hope I can meet Fizzle because it has been decades since I spoke with a drite," the woman kindly replies, patting the heiress on the leg as if sensing her anxiety. "Now Luke Callindor is someone who I have kept my eye on ever since he was born. I should not get into that story for it is complicated and has yet to play out its beginning much less its conclusion. I am merely here to do what I have been asked to do then go on my way."

The youngsters remain silent as the woman sings for the rest of the ride back to the academy. Reaching the open entrance, Aedyn offers the woman his hand, which she gently moves to Kellia. He helps the heiress off the horse and turns back to assist the caster, but she is gone. Only the sparkling remains of a transport spell can be seen for a brief instant around the saddle.
16

Fizzle stops at the edge of the Caster Swamp, letting Luke get off his back. A puff of rainbow smoke covers the drite as he reverts back to his natural form. He perches on the half-elf's shoulder, curiously sniffing at the foul air. He stays quiet while his friend carefully scans the area for signs of recent travelers and hiding monsters. The yellow moss and gnarled underbrush is thick, so he cannot be sure if there are any tracks. His nerves on edge, the forest tracker jumps in surprise when a bullfrog splashes into a nearby pool.

"I never liked swamps. The smell of stagnant water always makes me queasy," Luke says, leaning against a great oak that is covered in swamp vines. He gingerly touches his bandaged chest, his shirt used for the bindings. "Although, I have to admit it's weird standing between a forest and a swamp. I've never seen the two terrains mixed like this before. Bullfrogs among elms and acorns in swamp water are rather strange to me. So, do you have any ideas where we should go?"

"Fizzle not sure," the drite whispers, hopping off the half-elf's shoulder. He climbs up the thick oak and hangs from a low branch.

"Where do you think I should go, Selenia?" Luke asks without turning around.

Fizzle does not notice the sound of hooves behind him until the headmistress and Daniel come into view. Both are dressed for battle and their horses are covered in polished armor. Lord Skyblade is whistling and innocently looking out at the Caster Swamp, pretending not to notice that Luke is only ten feet away. Unlike her old ally, Selenia swiftly dismounts and approaches the forest tracker. Her face is a mix of anger, frustration, and a hint of concern.

"Good ears, kid. Now go back to the academy," she demands, stopping within reach of Luke. "This Lich is my problem and I don't want to write Ilan about the death of his son. You've done more than enough here and you shouldn't push your luck any more. Nobody will be there to save you and you don't have any tricks that can help against this type of creature. Let the adults with experience settle this."

The young warrior turns away from Selenia, briefly making eye contact with Daniel. A simple nod is the only response from the Gaian noble, so Luke shifts his attention back to the irritated headmistress. She turns to see Daniel grab the reins of her horse, her hand moving to the hilt of her longsword in preparation for them to use force. Fizzle jumps onto Luke's shoulder again, keeping a steady watch on the swamp. A puff of smoke drifts from his nostrils as the forest tracker takes his time thinking about what he can say in his defense.

After a few minutes Luke finally announces, "This is my fight and not yours."

"And what makes you think that?" Selenia asks, her eyes narrowing into challenging slits. "This Lich and I have business that is older than you. Go back to the academy or I'll drag you back."

"The boy might have a point here," Daniel says, ignoring the waves of anger ebbing off his former employer and teacher. "You told me that Fizzle overheard the Lich being nervous about Luke's presence, which is proof that this is his fight. Besides, shielding him from the Lich could have serious backlash for you, Selenia. If you send him back then your old enemy might go after the academy again. The students cannot withstand another assault, so soon after the last one. We can let the boy come with us and avoid this pointless confrontation."

"Don't you dare take his side, Skyblade," she says, grabbing her saddle and flipping onto the back of her horse. The headmistress snatches the reins from the noble without bothering to look at him. "The Lich is not an opponent for someone who was killing goblins and zombies less than a month ago. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't stop you from doing this, Callindor, and I'll let you handle it."

Luke reaches up to scratch Fizzle on the top of his head while he carefully considers the situation. He looks out at the swamp for a few minutes, forcing the experienced warriors to patiently wait for him to speak. An eerie, green light rises on the darkening horizon as the twisted trees of the swamp stretch their shadows away from the forest. The distant aurora pulls at Luke's heart and mind as he watches it steadily grows in intensity. Glancing at the others, he cannot be sure if they notice the palpable change in the atmosphere.

"You said it yourself, Selenia. Your time with the Lich is over and I'm the one who has to deal with him now," the forest tracker calmly explains, his attention drawn back to the green light. "Only the gods know if I'll die here or if I can surprise everyone and defeat him. It was Zaria who sent me here to face this monster, so the gods must have some plan for me to survive this. Besides, I have Fizzle to back me up if things get really bad. Now, will you let me go ahead alone or will we continue talking until that green light engulfs us?"

"Green light? That's a bait spell, you idiot! You're losing the fight already and you haven't even met him," Selenia argues, her stern expression cracking to reveal her concern for the younger half-elf. "Did you ever consider that Zaria sent you to defeat the Lich's assassin? She might not have intended for you to face the Lich. I have Daniel and my thunderclap longsword to help me. As powerful as Fizzle is, he can barely stay in the air after doing so many transformations in a short span of time. He has no magic left to cast spells."

"I think he still has a spell or two left in him. Right, Fizzle?"

Selenia attempts to urge her horse forward only to discover that Daniel is still holding her reins. The decoys she had blindly grabbed from him are loosely tied to the side of his saddle. A snarl escapes her clenched teeth as Fizzle lands on the head of her steed, the drite muttering an incantation. Her rage steals her voice as a glimmer of aura rises from the ground beneath them. Daniel waves to Luke as they vanish into the growing portal of rainbow light. In a matter of seconds, they are gone and the young warrior is alone, standing up to his ankles in swamp water.

"You realize that woman will be very angry upon your return. It might be smarter for you to die out there," says a subtle, male voice.

Luke whirls around to come face-to-face with a tall man dressed in black platemail. An ethereal aura ripples around the platemail and the white dragon on his chest plate writhes as if it is alive. The black-haired man tenderly pats the hilt of his longsword, the weapon throbbing with ancient magic. It takes Luke a few seconds to notice that the man is not alone. A raven is perched on his shoulder and an ebony unicorn calmly munches on swamp grass behind its master. Both of these animals gaze at the half-elf with an air of superiority. The emerald light from the swamp quickly flows into the man's pale green eyes as a single note escapes his lips.

"Don't you gods have anything better to do than waste my time?" Luke impatiently asks, trying to walk past the man. "I really want to face this Lich and get back to the academy. My boots are getting water-logged and I think a leech is sucking on my ankle. Not to mention my ribs need some tending to."

"Then, I must apologize for the intrusion," Gabriel politely responds, letting the warrior step around him. "I felt an urge to meet one of the more entertaining mortals whose destiny I have forged. My allies and I have been watching your adventure and I must admit that I am pleased with what you have accomplished. I assure you that my interest in you is merely pride in my creation and nothing more."

"Thanks. I think," Luke says, turning to stare directly into Gabriel's eyes until he cannot take the god's gaze any more. "Since you're the one pulling my strings, I guess you already know what will happen. You come here to give me a powerful weapon or armor that makes sure I win?"

The God of Destiny laughs, which causes a tree to transform into a six-foot tall rose. "You mortals are so simple. Destiny is not so straightforward. I can put you on the path and prepare the obstacles to get you to the end of your journey as a stronger person. Yet, I am unable to control how you will respond to these obstacles or if they are too much for you. For example, the Hellfire Elf was a difficult creature for you to defeat. I had my doubts about your survivability and even more doubts after you initially lost. Then you claimed victory without me knowing if it would happen. You see, there must always been a balance of pre-determined destiny and unexpected chaos for a true destiny to work. You will come to understand that if you live long enough."

"So, you aren't going to help me?"

"There is a rule among the gods," Gabriel answers. There is a sense of disdain and irritation in his voice that is masked by his melodic tones. "We are not to get physically involved in the affairs of mortals. Those who break this rule are put to sleep for a determined amount of time. For severe transgressions, they are sealed for eternity and forgotten. We may only guide mortals with vague, cryptic messages when we appear. To simply hand over a weapon to someone, who has not earned such a reward, is breaking that rule. This is why true quests are both rare and difficult. As the God of Destiny, I can bend the rule every now and again to speak with mortals in a more direct method than my peers. In your case, I am simply interested in seeing you outside of a scrying portal."

The unicorn wanders to the Visindor side of the river as Luke makes another attempt to meet Gabriel's chilling gaze. This time it is the God of Destiny who looks away, but the half-elf gets the sense that he broke eye contact out of boredom.

"Guess I'm too young and simple to fully understand what you're talking about, sir," the young warrior admits. He leaps to the nearest island of solid ground among the murky pools of water. "I'm honored that one of your power and reputation was compelled to meet me. I guess I should settle this business. Thanks for the visit and enjoy the show."

Gabriel is still watching Luke bound across the swamp when Zaria materializes next to him. She watches with concern in her eyes as the forest tracker disappears into the distance. The Destiny God looks down at the shorter deity, laughing at the thought of a goddess worrying about a mere mortal. With a snap of his fingers, he calls his unicorn to him and pulls himself onto its bare back. He snaps the reins and the beast rears back, causing swamp water to splash onto Zaria's white dress.

"You are a bastard, Gabriel. Putting doubt into his mind and confusing him at a time like this," the goddess says as her dress cleans itself. "I can have you sealed for this transgression and I doubt any of the others would defend you at your trial. Don't you fear that he will fail and our plans will be pushed back again?"

"Foolish goddess, I could have you destroyed before you ever attempt to seal me," Gabriel callously declares. He leans down so his face is a few inches above Zaria, his black hair falling on her ivory skin. "From what the other gods are saying, I am the only one who has any faith in that child. I know he will succeed in ways that you cannot even fathom."

"If he survives the Lich."

"That creature is serving its purpose better than I ever dreamed!" the god exclaims. He sneers at the expression of shock and disgust on his companion's enchanting face. "Don't look so surprised about me being involved in the Lich's destiny. I cannot play favorites, so I must create the evil along with the good. Unlike you, Pure One, I am destined to play an eternal chess match with myself."

"Such is your curse. I will shed no tears for you, Hell Lord," Zaria declares, vanishing in a star of light.

Gabriel gazes out into the swamp and lets a cruel grin cross his face. "I will be watching, my pawns. Make this show worth my time."

*****

Kira takes a deep, shuddering breath as she sneaks out of the teachers' dormitory. The second floor window opens to a slanted eave, which she awkwardly slides down until she can peek over the edge. The heavy backpack clunks against her side when a gust of wind nearly tosses her to the ground. For a second, she considers going back into the building to use the stairs, but she would certainly get caught by the throng of teachers resting in the first floor lounge. She grits her teeth and eyes a tree that is only a foot higher than the eave she is crouched on. Silently counting to three, the black-haired girl leaps off the roof. Her hands grasp at the trunk only to slip and she bounces butt first off a thick branch. She yelps as she flips backwards, falling to the grass with a thud.

"Graceful as a troll on a tightrope," laughs Kellia from behind the other girl.

"At least I'm doing something to help, your highness," Kira snaps, stumbling to her feet and rubbing her sore rear. "You seem content to sit around and wait for this disaster to be over. Shouldn't you be in hiding?"

"Selenia said I could wander the grounds since the academy received extra warding thanks to an Elven caster. Nice woman, but kind of creepy with how she knows more about you than you expect," Kellia says as she leans against the side of the building. "So, where are you off to? Got a hot date in the forest with one of your gentlemen callers?"

The brown-skinned girl glares at her classmate while tightening her backpack's straps. "I'm going to help Luke since everyone else is happy to sit back and wait for him to get killed."

"You and the forest tracker are an item? I didn't see that union coming. You're more galas and boutiques than river bathing and trudging through the mud."

"Shows how little you know about me. Out of my way."

She tries to shoulder past Kellia only to get an iron grip latched onto her arm. Kira is spun around to face the stronger girl and she instinctively ducks the expected punch. She drops the backpack, rolling to the side where a rose bush is innocently waiting to stab her with its thorns. A series of muffled curses and whimpers drifts from the bush as she thrashes to get free. Her black hair is covered in thorns and petals by the time she stands up. She cringes as she pulls the thorns out of her brown skin while Kellia laughs, never having swung at her classmate.

"I'm still going," Kira stubbornly swears. "Thorns, blood, and embarrassment can't stop me from helping him."

"I can see that, but I still find it a strange match."

"We understand each other. Both of us have so much to live up to that it's nice to be with someone who accepts us for who we really are," the determined woman explains, picking up her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. "Come on, Kellia. You've had to deal with the same expectations Luke and I have. Of everyone in this academy, you should understand us the most. So, please let me go without any trouble."

"Not once did I say I would stop you. In fact, I think you should stop by wherever you're hiding that chain, sickle, mace thingy you were wielding during the battle. No telling what you'll run into if you follow him, so best to go armed."

Kira suspiciously eyes the muscular girl, slightly embarrassed that she forgot about her weapon. "Why are you here if you aren't trying to stop me?"

"I heard rumors that you have a communication orb hidden somewhere," Kellia says in a hushed voice. She gets closer, eyeing the moving forms of students guarding the wall. "You've been using it to occasionally contact your father. That's how you were able to receive your weapon so quickly. I need to use the orb to send a private message to my father. It is very important that I do this immediately. I would greatly appreciate it if you let me know if the rumor is true. If so then I really need to use it."

"Where did you hear this and why should I help you, Lady Solomon?"

"Paranoia does not become you, Lady Grasdon."

"I'm having fun being on the receiving end of begging instead of me pleading for you not to hit me," the slender girl claims, yanking out another thorn and cringing. "That happened far too many times in our classes. You know, Kellia, you were always so angry and quick to hit me. I'd like to know why you picked on me so often."

"I did not always pick on you."

"You did too."

"Did not."

"Tell me what made me your favorite target, Kellia. Then you'll get this supposed communication orb."

"You're imagining things."

"A weekly trip to the infirmary is not imagining things."

"It was an accident."

"Tell me why."

"No."

"Tell me."

Kellia growls and grits her teeth in childish frustration. "Because you reminded me of the life I hated! You're such a pretty little thing who never wanted to get her hands dirty. You whined, complained, and cried your way through class. It made you stand out and made me really hate you."

"Doesn't being honest make you feel better?" Kira asks. She takes a deep breath and locks stares with the fuming heiress. "Do you want to know why I indulge in the benefits of my station while you rail against them? It's because I know most people would kill to have the life I live and this fun might not last forever. You're royalty, so you have less to worry about than me, but if my father's company goes under then the galas, the fancy clothes, and every other perk will disappear overnight. We both know that people in our social circles find it easy to forget the friends who fall from grace, so I would cease to exist to everyone who has ever met me. Maybe I choose to hide parts of myself behind the mask people expect, but it is healthier than attacking everything that reminds me of what I fear and hate."

Kellia politely applauds the other girl to mask her twinge of guilt. "Wow. That's a nice little speech . . . which I can't argue with. You're right. I don't like the high society world I was born into and it's sickening how fallen nobles are forgotten."

"Now, are we going to have any more problems?" Kira asks with a friendly smile. She extends her hand, which her fellow student takes and tries to squeeze tightly. A surprised look crosses Kellia's face when the other girl nimbly slips her hand out of her grip.

"You could never do that in class, Grasdon."

"A few awkward encounters with Luke convinced me to master that move over the last few days," Kira says with an impish grin. She frowns when she realizes how her words can be misunderstood, but she is thankful that the innuendo goes over Kellia's head. "Now that we've settled everything, I have a hero to save. We can continue this conversation when I get back and maybe even talk Selenia into letting us have a weekend trip to Gaia. The two of us can work on your wardrobe now that we know each other's secret."

"This better not be a plan to help your father's business. I don't appreciate being used for such things."

"My father can take care of his own business. I prefer to enjoy myself before I step into that stressful world. Maybe I'll talk to you about business down the road, but for now, I want to have fun," Kira declares while tightening her backpack around her shoulders. "I'll talk to you later and I trust you won't tell anyone about this."

"I look forward to our conversation," Kellia says with a small bow. "Now, about that communication orb, I'd like to know where you hid it."

"Please give it back when I return."

The brown-skinned girl reaches toward her silver, talon-shaped earrings and slides the switches hidden on their smooth underside. Half of a tiny sapphire sphere falls out of each earring and into her cupped palms. Kira presses and twists them together until a small pop of light fuses the pieces.

"Impressively cunning," the royal heiress admits after the sphere is dropped into her hand.

"You have to be in order to keep up the appearance of Wayland Grasdon's daughter and still have some fun," Kira proudly declares, her eyes never leaving the valuable orb. "Take good care of that."

"If I don't lose it or accidentally swallow it."

Kira stares at her, unsure if the other girl is joking. "That would be the opposite of taking good care of it. The best communication orbs are always the size of a fingernail because the magic is more condensed and potent. They're also expensive and my dad won't buy me another one without making me work for it."

Taking a deep breath, Kira sprints to the wall and slips through the hole. Within a few minutes, she is across the killing field and out of sight.

*****

Several hours after leaving Gabriel, Luke sees a purple glow through the gnarled trees on his right and cautiously makes his way to a small patch of solid land. A purple mist is emanating from a large cauldron made out of a Sirynian Dragon's rotting head. Most of the skull is nothing more than exposed bone, but a few scraps of blue scales remain along the reptilian snout. The young warrior holds his breath when he notices the cloaked form standing by a mushroom-covered tree. Vials of spell components are floating around the Lich, who is intently staring into a murky pool at his feet. A low humming comes from the necrocaster as he focuses on whatever is in the dark water.

Luke silently draws his sabers, slipping out from among the twisted trees and stepping into the open. When he is within a few yards of the Lich, he launches himself at the necrocaster's back. His blades are within inches of his enemy when a skeletal hand emerges from the robes and points at him. A blast of crimson gas hits Luke in the face and he collapses, his eyes watching his enemy shimmer and twist. A grunt of anger and pain slips from the young warrior's mouth as he realizes the Lich was facing him the entire time, the rotting face covered by layers of illusion.

"Did it ever cross your mind that I have been watching you ever since you stepped foot in my swamp?" the decaying creature asks, gliding to the gaudy cauldron and plucking a small vial from the air. He pours the green liquid into the gurgling brew, changing the purple mist into a noxious yellow. "I would have expected more strategy and intelligence from a youth who defeated a Hellfire Elf."

Inhaling the mist, Luke hacks and struggles to his feet. He can feel his breathing slowing when a chunky liquid fills his lungs. The Lich cackles gleefully as the youth desperately gasps for air. With his last bit of strength, the half-elf violently coughs until a gelatinous blob of blood flies out of his mouth. His breathing returns to normal as the necrocaster picks up the hardening glob and tosses it into the cauldron.

"Very impressive, but I expected you to withstand my lung gusher spell," the Lich admits, flicking off a few crumbs of blood from his boney fingers. "I don't believe you appreciate my praise since you're not old enough to understand even the basics of magic. It is incredibly frustrating that a youth like you has stood in my way. If I was still human, I would feel a great amount of shame at being thwarted by you."

Luke tries to attack again, managing to shatter the Lich's ribcage with a wild swing before he is knocked off his feet by a violent blast of wind. Holding his aching ribs, he stands in the summoned windstorm and pushes through until he is within reach of the necrocaster. A flick of the monster's wrist causes an electric charge to ripple through the other spell, repeatedly shocking Luke until his muscles go weak. Again, the young warrior falls to his knees and is forced to gather his strength while his enemy goes back to the cauldron.

"If you were so powerful then you would have killed me by now," the half-elf claims, getting back to his feet. "Why do you undead bastards have to be so slow and stupid?"

Without turning away from his cauldron, the Lich stomps his foot into the moist earth and sends a roaring shockwave at Luke. It takes very little effort for the half-elf to hurdle the spell and charge the necrocaster for a third time. As soon as he jumps at his enemy, a hand of stone erupts from the ground and bats him into a tree. Luke rolls back to his feet and slowly circles to the other side of the cauldron. The pain from his broken rib makes him cringe and his breathing becomes ragged.

"You're playing with me."

The Lich pours more components into the cauldron, uninterested in what his enemy is doing. "Very observant, boy. I could have killed you any time that I wanted to since you lack the ability to harm me. These ribs will heal in an hour, but you will not be alive to see it happen. I have grand plans for your death, little hero."

"You want to take over my body since I cost you Kellia," the young warrior says, hoping to surprise the necrocaster with his insight. "That way you can freely move around Windemere and complete the rest of your plans without suspicion. I assume that first spell you hit me with was to get part of me for your mixture that will make me the target of the body switch. Selenia was right. You're not that original or smart."

Luke sneaks within a few feet of the cauldron, reaching into a belt pouch for a piece of dried meat. He waits for the Lich to turn away again and throws the meat at the potion in the hopes of ruining the concoction. A rotting forked tongue lances out of the Draconic cauldron, snatching the jerky out of the air. With a low snarl, the dragon skull snaps at Luke's leg, causing the half-elf to frantically scramble away.

"Careful. She has a temper," the Lich laughs as the forest tracker cautiously gets back to his feet. "You're surprisingly intuitive, but you're also wrong. I can do so many more things in your corpse than I could in the body of a stationary noble. In fact, I planned on possessing you ever since you first involved yourself in my plans. Kellia became nothing more than bait to bring you closer to me or a suitable backup corpse if the Hellfire Elf mauled you too much."

"I was right on the important part. You want to take over my body," Luke responds, trying to lighten his mood.

The Lich throws a bottle of acid into the cauldron and a puff of black smoke spurts into the air. Smelling the potion, he snatches a snail off the ground and drops it into the liquid. "You were correct and deduced my plan before I announced it. I hope that makes you happy before you become my vessel. With no magic, you cannot stop this from happening. I shall be rewarded greatly for disposing of you."

The half-elf inches around the side of the cauldron, kicking it in the nose when it tries to bite him again. A pitiful yelp escapes the skull's mouth as it spins its face away from the warrior. The Lich is too busy sifting through his floating spell components to notice that his enemy has gotten closer. Luke is a few yards away from the necrocaster when he decides another charge would be pointless.

"Tell me what you're up to and I'll make your destruction quick and painless," Luke declares with a small quiver in his voice.

"The fear in your voice means you have realized the hopelessness of the situation," the Lich calmly replies, adding the final components to the cauldron. A foul stench fills the air as the potion bubbles and sizzles. "These have been the last few minutes of your life and destiny. Your adventure ends with me as it was always meant to."

"You haven't really been paying attention to me, have you? If you were then you would realize I haven't exactly been predictable when thwarting you," the forest tracker says, casually spinning his sabers. "Let me demonstrate."

With a determined smirk, Luke thrusts both swords into the side of the cauldron. When he pulls them out, the swords are covered in the magical liquid. The green, putrid ooze drips down the blades and around the hilt, dripping onto his hands. As soon as the potion touches his fingers, his flesh bubbles and burns.

"Foolish child!" the Lich screeches, gesturing for a spell.

Luke slashes the necrocaster's face, leaving a bubbling gash across the creature's forehead. As he repeatedly cuts into his enemy, a surge of magic ripples through his body. Every strike makes him feel like his strength is being sapped even though he is driving the Lich back. The monster is wracked with pain from the burning scars being carved into his boney body, but the damage lessens as the young warrior weakens.

The Lich finally strikes Luke in the face with a hand of stone and glides to the other side of the cauldron. The forest tracker reflexively rubs his broken nose, smearing some of the burning liquid on his face. The pain is intense as he feels his skin blister and crawl. He can barely see the Lich finish another spell before a fan of fire erupts from the necrocaster's eyes. Luke feels the fire singe some of his hair as he dives behind the living cauldron.

"That the best you can do?" the half-elf taunts even though he is in agony.

"Do you realize what you have done? My potion is transferring some of your energy to me every time you hit me. I need only let you fight until your essence is fully absorbed."

The cauldron whirls around, the snarling head stopping in front of Luke. Feeling its breath, he yanks his face out of the way before the powerful jaws slam shut. Rolling away from the dragon skull, he flips to his feet and leaps forward. Both sabers are driven up to their hilts into the rotting eye sockets of the cauldron. The magical liquid inside boils, sending plumes of mist in every direction. Luke frees his swords from the thrashing object before retreating to the nearest pool and diving into the icy swamp water. An explosion rocks the entire swamp as the shrieking cauldron sends a black beam of energy into the sky, the display ending when the skull melts into the soft earth.

"What happened? What did you do?" the Lich stutters as the mist clears and swamp water flows into the gaping hole where his cauldron used to stand.

Luke bursts from the water, gasping for air as he clambers onto a patch of soft earth. He raises his head to see that the necrocaster is missing the entire right half of his body. The half-elf's joy is short-lived as the burning in his face spreads to his left eye, skewing his already blurry vision. He spins his sabers and awkwardly charges at the Lich, but the creature shrieks loud enough to make his ears bleed. When Luke regains his senses, he sees that his enemy is rapidly regenerating. His muscles weakening, the forest tracker raises his sabers, but fails to block the Lich's left arm as it stretches out and grabs him by the neck. The young warrior is slammed against the swampy ground as the boney hand tightens around his throat. Black fingernails press into the half-elf's skin and he feels warm slime drip onto his shoulder. Luke tries to fight back until a spell hits him, causing an invisible force to snatch his sabers and stabs them into a nearby branch.

"I have lost my patience with you!" the Lich shouts, enjoying the sight of the warrior's eyes rolling back into his head. "You are more of a troublesome pest than a great hero. It would be better for all involved if I kill you now. I can use you as a skeleton or a zombie, so you don't go to waste. Stop struggling, child. Your weapons are out of reach. Your body is weak from the magical potion you put on yourself. You have no friends to save you from death's grasp this time."

"Fizzle make you go poof!" the drite screams as he soars above the swamp.

A sonic boom rocks the area as Fizzle dives at the necrocaster, releasing the spell he has been preparing for the last hour. Luke's vision is nearly gone when a thick beam of golden light hits the Lich, sending him flailing to the ground. The grip around the half-elf's neck loosens and he breaks free as the necrocaster starts disintegrating.

"This isn't over, Callindor! There are more bodies for me than this one. I learned my lesson after fighting that woman," the Lich announces as pieces of his body tear away and evaporate into the air. "We're not done with each other yet, so enjoy your illusion of victory."

Luke backs away from his enemy when a wraith of putrid green aura rises out of the twitching body. A soundless scream pierces his and Fizzle's minds as the phantom dives into a pool of murky water. It takes several minutes for the half-elf to open his eyes to look around for any sign of the Lich, but all he sees is darkness.

"Spirit escaped," Fizzle timidly whispers, his tiny body shaking with fear. "Luke angry at Fizzle? Me sorry for intru . . . in . . . get in way."

Luke is so busy using his sound sight to follow the breeze to his sabers that he does not hear the drite speaking. He cleans and sheaths his weapons before giving Fizzle a big hug. Luke cannot stop himself from smiling at the tiny dragon, but the expression is stiff and strained as half his face feels like it is melted to the bone. Even worse, he still feels his strength getting sapped by the remaining traces of the Lich's potion.

"I owe you so much for saving my life, Fizzle," Luke whispers, struggling through the pain in his face. "You're the one who deserves credit for defeating the Lich. I'll have to help Betty make you an apple pie when we get back to the academy. My mom taught me her recipe for a cinnamon apple pie that I think you'd love."

Fizzle drools at the thought of the apple pie and gently wraps his tail around Luke's upper arm, taking his favorite perch on the young warrior's shoulder. The drite nuzzles at the half-elf's cheek, which causes his friend excruciating pain. Luke takes a final glance around the area and staggers in the direction of Visindor Forest.

*****

"You must calm down, Selenia," the old elf maiden says. Nestled in her robes, she sits in the bustling courtyard and watches the headmistress pace. "The magic wards have been rebuilt and I have made them stronger than before. If you are worried about Luke then you can stop. He is more than capable of handling himself."

"You keep saying that, mother," Selenia snaps, her pacing becoming faster. "As much as I admire your optimism, I think he threw his life away. It's been two hours and there have been no signs of him."

Yells from the killing field catch the headmistress's attention and she is on top of the wall before her mother can say anything. Far in the distance a pillar of black light is rising from the Caster Swamp, piercing a band of gray clouds that rapidly dissipate. The energy vanishes soon after everyone feels a faint shockwave pass through the air. It is not long before a small arc of light appears from the same area and it is the last thing anyone sees from the direction of the swamp.

"The battle is over. Luke is on his way home," the old elf calmly declares, standing at the bottom of the wall.

"What makes you so sure of that?" Nimby asks as he walks by with two freshly cut boards and a large saw.

"I know. You should know too since you are his close friend," the powerful caster states with a warm smile. "Do you believe me now, Selenia? Then again, you always needed physical proof in order to believe in someone. Faith was never your strong suit."

Selenia climbs off the wall, remaining silent as she stands in front of her mother. She looks in the direction of the swamp then to the remaining damage to her academy. For a second, Nimby thinks the headmistress looks fatigued and worn beyond her years. The past few days have weighed heavily on her shoulders and the fear of another student dying has finally been put out of her mind.

"I'll have more faith when I get older. Right now, I believe in what I see with my own eyes," Selenia defiantly argues, running a hand through her short hair. "Gabriel or Cessia must be watching over that kid with all their power. Of course, I have a feeling a certain drite had a hand in this victory. My point is that the Lich was not a pushover when I first encountered him and I doubt he's lost any of his tenacity and power. Luke needs to return before I truly believe he's safe."

Her mother lets out an exasperated sigh before casting a spell, which completely repairs the academy. Nimby and Fritz stand in front of the mended wall, staring with stunned dismay at the towering structure. The gnome looks at his blueprints before tearing them up and tossing the pieces into the air. He storms off with his friend a few steps behind trying to cheer him up.

"You miss the point, Selenia. While you were destined to confront the Lich at the beginning, it is now Luke who must deal with him," her mother explains, placing a tender hand on the half-elf's shoulder. "There is something brewing in the shadows of Windemere and Luke is a key to keeping our world alive. He will find others like him and they will be the ones to stand against the coming storm. Yet, do not think that your role in all this is over, my stubborn child. All of us will have a part to play in the coming events."

"Nice speech, but Windemere has always had dark creatures on the horizon," the former mercenary contends. She clears her throat and spits off to her side, grinning at her mother's scowl. "If you know so much about what's going to happen then why don't you do something about it? Try to stop the disaster before it occurs like the rest of us are trying to do, mother."

The elf maiden laughs and gives her daughter a hug. "It is neither my place nor my time to get involved. The coming events have little to do with me, but they have everything to do with Luke's generation of heroes. Now, I must take my leave and return to my charges. Be easy on the boy when he returns."

"You know me."

"That is why I asked."

The old elf's voice drifts over the wind as she casts a teleportation spell, disappearing in a shimmer of light. The students are still wandering around the academy, excitedly talking about everything that has happened. Only a handful of them discuss their own experience in battle while others politely avoid questions from those who were in the cave. A few mentions of Luke's name catch Selenia's attention, but she does not react to them. Ignoring everyone around her, she climbs back on top of the wall and patiently awaits the young hero's return.
17

The pain is still growing in Luke's hands and face as Fizzle guides him through the forest. His vision has vanished and his bleeding hands barely have any feeling in them, leaving him helpless. Several times, he loses his grip on his friend's tail because of the slippery blood oozing out of his pores. Luke cannot push his body any more and weakly collapses over a mushroom-covered tree stump. Even his ability to see sound has been hampered due to his ears getting burned at their tips. At best, he can sense vague, jerky forms around him. Fizzle quietly lands next to him and mutters prayers in dragon tongue.

"I was hoping it wouldn't end like this," Luke whispers, pushing off the stump. A few squirrels bound in front of him while an early morning rain trickles through the trees. The water feels warm and painful on his horribly burned skin. He twitches when he feels a feminine hand caress his cheek, the rain coming down harder.

"It is at times like this that I wish the gods were not so distant. I would heal you if the punishment of eternal sealing were not above my head," Zaria says, placing the half-elf's head in her lap and stroking his matted hair. "Too many of the gods would jump at the chance to be rid of me. I am their moral compass and many believe they are beyond morals. The most I can do is comfort you in your time of passing."

"I guess I'm really going to die if you're here," the warrior mutters. He feels blood drip out of his mouth and rolls so it falls onto the ground instead of the goddess's dress.

She wipes his wipes with a white handkerchief that is softer than any material known to mortals. "The potion was very strong, but it was also unfinished. As smart as the Lich thinks he is, he is not an alchemist in any way. A few ingredients necessary to bring the potion to full potency were missing. Furthermore, he was not aware that adding only your blood would make it work slowly when it came in contact with you. One must also add part of his or her own body to the cauldron to make a life-transferring potion work at its optimal rate."

"It sure doesn't feel like the potion was weak."

"That would be the result of your actions," Zaria says with a glowing smile. "Adding the taste of tempered metal to the potion made it acidic, but it also further weakened its magical potency. While your actions were foolish and rash, they allowed you to live long enough to get this far."

Luke coughs violently, splattering the ground and her slippers with blood. "It wasn't enough to get me back to the academy. Fizzle used the last of his magic to save me from the Lich. He's barely able to keep his eyes open. I guess I wasn't meant to be a great hero."

"It is too early to tell," the goddess states, bending down and giving the half-elf a kiss on the cheek. "I will see you again, Luke Callindor. Be prepared for the hardships that have been set in front of you."

"What do you mean? Aren't I dying?"

He feels a cool, sweet-smelling liquid drip onto his face and hands, mixing with the warm rain. The wet patches of blood on his skin dry and flake off as his damaged flesh painfully reforms. The agony he has been suffering with is slowly pulled out of his body, left to vanish in the wind. A few minutes later, his eyes are able to see fuzzy shapes without the aid of his sound sight. Colors begin to appear in front of him and the squirrels he heard come into focus a few yards away.

With the lingering effects of the potion rapidly fading, Luke becomes aware of his head being in someone's lap. Instead of the soft dress of Zaria, he feels rough breeches that smell of sweat and desert orchids. A slender hand runs through his hair as he turns to see an empty potion bottle emblazoned with the blazing sun of Durag.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Aedyn?" the half-elf asks in a confused voice, straining his neck to see his savior's face. He regains all of his sight and stares into green eyes with a hint of blue.

"That's rude," Kira says with a smile.

Luke gets to his hands and knees with a jump, accidentally knocking Fizzle off the tree stump. The drite lets out a small growl before he realizes someone else is with them and his friend is healed. He goes to tackle the young warrior at the same time Luke pulls Kira toward him, passionately kissing her on the lips. She kisses back, but they realize the tiny dragon is trapped between them and scrambling to get free.

"Way to kill the mood, Fizzle," Luke says, moving away from Kira. The drite's scales turn bright red in embarrassment as he flutters around them.

"Fizzle sorry. Got emo . . . emat . . . Fizzle happy," he stutters, spinning into the air and circling them. "Luke all better and his mate here. Happy day!"

"Mate?" Kira asks, her cheeks blushing immediately.

"It was the simplest explanation I could come up with to help him understand what a couple is," Luke answers as he gives her another kiss. "Now, do you mind explaining what you're doing here and how you healed me? Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but I'm rather surprised to find you in the forest with a backpack full of potions."

Kira gently pushes him away and moves to sit against a nearby tree. The young woman shifts uncomfortably and rubs at her back where a tree root pokes at her. Most of her attention is on the tiny dragon quietly flying above them. Fizzle stares at her with curiosity, which makes her even more curious about him.

"You smell terrible and you got swamp muck on my pants," she claims after she decides to ignore the drite and stare at her boyfriend. "I enjoy your . . . enthusiasm with me, but please keep the dirt to yourself. I just had the spadix blood and sweat cleaned out of these. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a decent cleaner in that academy? Duggan and Kevin are terrible. They shrunk or destroyed all of my best dresses weeks ago. I had to convince Lord Skyblade to clean these before he left with Selenia to find you."

"I'm sorry. I promise to clean them for you when we get back."

He takes her hand to help her up, noticing that she is moving very stiffly. He guesses that she has been walking with the heavy backpack all night. Fizzle lands on her shoulder and Kira tenses up as the adorable creature rubs his scaly head against her skin. Luke can already see her hands quivering as her eyes remain locked on the drite. The purring that comes from Fizzle's throat makes her giggle while the half-elf bends down to pick up the heavy bag of potions. She finally calms down and the tiny dragon takes flight to hover next to her.

"These potions all have the symbol of Durag on them," Luke says as he rummages through the bag.

"Aedyn has a stash in his room and another in the infirmary. One of the other female students told me about it a few days ago. So when I saw the spadix coming, I broke into his room and stole all of the anti-toxins as well as a few healing potions and a regenerative elixir," Kira explains as they walk through the quiet, dew-bathed forest. "My weapon, the kusari-gama, has a blade that can be coated with a potion to be delivered from a distance. By the way, I was supposed to hide in the cave during the battle, but I convinced Kevin to let me stay by offering to help in the infirmary. I wanted to let you know why I was in the battle when I should have been sent away."

Luke puts a finger to her lips, taking a minute to glance at the odd weapon dangling from Kira's side. Getting a closer look at the kusari-gama, he can tell it is an expensive custom job made by a highly skilled weaponsmith. A few narrow grooves have been forged into the blade to allow blood to flow off the weapon and the dull metal shaft of the sickle is expertly merged with the chain.

"That's a strange weapon," Luke states, taking her hand and helping her across a stream.

"You know, it's very rude to interrupt a lady when she's talking. Now, shut up and let me finish," Kira playfully demands before returning to her story. "As I was saying, I decided to stay and fight, but I only knew how to lash out with the sickle and pull it back with enough control to cause varying degrees of damage. I'm not very good with this yet, so I was hiding in the chaos and healing people during the fight. Still, the battle was really scary and I don't want to go through another one in my lifetime. In fact, I'm going back to Bor'daruk after I finish mastering my weapon and completing the classes that Selenia runs. The busy life of a merchant's daughter is more for me than a warrior's life. My father will accept this since I tried to do as he asked and made some progress. I'm thinking of trying my hand at politics or philanthropy. Though, that entire plan can change once I have more time to think."

Luke smiles and raises his eyes to the sky. "We never know what the future holds. Maybe you'll become a better warrior than me."

"It's not nice to tease me."

Birds are singing in the tree branches as the couple comes across a wide trail in the forest. They are forced to stop by a parade of animals traveling across their path. All types of beasts walk next to each other as they scattered into Visindor Forest. Fizzle can be heard talking to a few of them in their own tongue and some of the animals approach Luke to lick at his hand. A full-grown grizzly bear lumbers by next to a young moose, both animals looking toward the forest tracker. The bear lets out a mighty roar before separating from the other animals and heading off alone.

"This is surreal," Kira whispers as more animals walk past.

"Aminals returning," Fizzle happily announces, spinning and flipping in the air. "They thank Luke. Today day of peace in forest. All aminals be friends. Not food. We all thank hero Luke."

The half-elf smiles and blushes as he carefully leads his companion through the parade. A herd of deer stop to let them pass, Luke quickly getting out of their way. He stops to look back and notices Fizzle is staying behind to talk to the beasts. He waves to the small dragon, who waves back with his tail and darts out of sight. Without the drite's cheerful demeanor to energize them, the couple walk in tired silence until they reach the edge of the killing field. The sun is already above the distant trees, removing the last wisps of a morning fog. Several students are playing sports in the open area while others are sitting on top of the academy's fully repaired walls. There are only a few subtle signs left of the battle that happened only yesterday.

"Why did they fight, Kira?" Luke asks in a low, choked voice. "They're only students and they had the choice to go hide. This didn't concern them."

"Everyone had their own reasons," his companion replies, taking a deep breath of the forest air. She watches her classmates have fun and relax, the stress and grief from the battle no longer a curtain hanging over the academy. "Some did it for honor while others did it for the challenge. I know many who did it for Selenia and I heard that the catapult teams did it for Fritz. In the end, I don't think it matters why they did it. They simply did it and should be proud of their actions. Oh, remember that I have to be a spoiled brat when we get back. Everyone will think I fell asleep in the forest, so you found me and I never gave you any potions to save your life. I'm having enough trouble passing off what I did in the battle. So don't tell them I actually have deep thoughts or the teachers might expect things from me like attention or high grades. If that happens then I lose sleep and I don't have enough make-up to cover that mess."

"Did you fight for Selenia?"

Kira narrows her eyes and quickly grabs Luke by the arm to playfully shove him onto the killing field. The students on the wall applaud when they see the young hero making his way to the academy. He can hear them calling to those inside the academy and he catches a glimpse of Selenia watching him from the entrance. The half-elf is surprised when students pour out of the front doors, swiftly making their way to him.

"You ask too many questions, Luke Callindor," she whispers, slowing her steps and falling behind before the mob converges on them. Within seconds, she loses sight of him and quietly slips to the edge of the crowd. "Especially when you should already know the answers. Foolish boy."

Luke gradually pushes his way into the academy, grinning at the onslaught of attention. He only hopes that Selenia is in the same mood as his classmates. Though, he could always sneak off with Kira if he gets into trouble. After all, with the Lich and the Hellfire Elf defeated, his time as a student is finally over. He revels at the thought of ridding himself of academy rules and class schedules. Even better, he realizes that not being a student means Selenia can no longer boss him around. With his head held high, the victorious forest tracker makes his way to the cafeteria where he can see his friends waiting.

*****

His friends can only cringe and turn away as Luke is knocked onto the sturdy table. He slips to the floor holding his jaw while Selenia looms above him, massaging her fist. He tries to get back up, but falls back down when the room spins. After everything he has been through, a punch to the jaw is the last thing he thought would put him down like this. Aedyn helps the forest tracker to a chair while the headmistress glares at Nimby, who promptly gives her his seat.

"If you ever do another stunt like that, I will magically lock you in one of the classrooms for the rest of the semester," Selenia angrily threatens, her fists clenched around the chair arms. The wood creaks under the strain and starts to splinter before she lets go. "You nearly got yourself killed five times in one day. The last thing I need to deal with is some reckless hero jumping headfirst into everything. That will not happen again. You hear me! Never again, Callindor!"

"Luke did what he had to do," Nimby defiantly argues, taking a seat on a nearby stool. "It wasn't his fault that it was a dangerous day. At least everything turned out for the best."

Selenia glares at him again and hurls an apple at the halfling. It bounces off his forehead, knocking him backwards and onto the floor. He scrambles behind Aedyn, timidly peeking around the priest's leg.

"Nimby is right. I did what I thought I had to do," Luke says with pride. He bravely stares down the former mercenary, whose eyes are filled with brewing fury. "Besides, five times is an exaggeration. It was only once that I almost died when I went off to fight the Lich. I came back alive and that's what is really important."

Fritz clears his throat and snaps his fingers for attention. "Actually, Selenia is right. You came close to dying five times today."

"I have to agree with Fritz and Selenia on this," Aedyn calmly states. He moves away from Nimby to take a seat and the halfling takes a subtle step behind Luke. "You can put the number to eight overall if you count the fire trap in the cave, the poisoning by the snake fiends, and your first encounter with the Hellfire Elf. I hope you realize I will not always be there to heal you, my friend."

"That's three incidents and my fight with the Lich. Where do the other four come from?"

Fritz gets to his feet with a grin and puts on his best lecture hall voice to answer the groaning warrior's question. "There was the blindness during the fight with the Hellfire Elf. Your special ability came in to save you in the end, but it was still not enough to guarantee your victory over the demon. Then there was when the giant cyclops almost crushed you in its fist and when it almost fell on you in the fountain. That would be two and three, which you could have avoided by being more careful and fighting on the defensive. The fourth time was when you leapt out of the hole made by the griffin and risked plummeting to your death. I know you yelled for Fizzle, but you didn't know for sure if he was awake or if he even knew what to do. We almost forgot another near death, which would bring the total to nine. Kellia told us that you almost died in your mid-air battle with the griffin. You really should have asked for more help or let the more experienced warriors handle some of these threats."

Luke slumps in his chair and tries to stutter out an explanation, but nothing he thinks of sounds like it would work. He gives up, crossing his arms and legs as he looks down at his mud-covered boots.

"Even your friends agree with me, Luke," Selenia remarks with a sneer of victory.

"I am staying neutral on this. As much as I agree that Luke should have been less reckless, I agree with some of his argument," Aedyn calmly says, clasping his hands in his lap. He waits to see if the headmistress will say anything, but she merely gestures for him to continue. "You were trying to protect him without letting him do what he felt he had to do. Ms. Hamilton, I believe that you need to learn to put as much trust in your students as they put in you. Aside from this personality flaw, I deem that you and your academy are highly acceptable as a battle priest training facility. I will send my report to my temple within two days. I should tell you that the events revolving around Luke have helped in my decision. I heard that your students defended themselves very well against the spadix and cyclopses even though few of them are fully trained."

"Thank you for your honesty and your trust. I will do my best to help those that your temple decides to send here," Selenia promises, bowing to the priest. Her expression is a little softer as she looks back at Luke. "Now as for our young hero with no restraint. I still have to congratulate you on surviving all of this and becoming an academy legend. You've done a good job with your first adventure. You were unconventional and idiotic at several points, but you succeeded and survived. So, don't let me down and flunk out."

Luke leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head, a relaxing grin across his face. "Funny, but I think I'm going to rest and enjoy being in the forest. Now that Kellia is safe and the Lich is momentarily crippled, I can go back to being a carefree forest tracker. No more classes and grades for me to deal with."

"Think again, my headache of a student," the former mercenary says, enjoying the stunned expression on the younger half-elf's face. "Duke Solomon paid for you to take a full semester of classes and graduate. This was what the messenger wrote in your introduction letter and the Duke has made good on the payment. Even if this started out as a lie, your enrollment is a reality and you will graduate by the end of this semester. This means you will do the morning run every day, attend all of your classes, and abide by all of my rules. No more carrying your sabers around and I will be keeping a close eye on you and Lady Grasdon."

With every word, Luke feels more and more defeated, leaving him sitting limply in his chair with his head hanging down. He sits up when Kellia enters the cafeteria and hands him a wax-sealed scroll. She gives the half-elf a quick kiss on the cheek and a big hug before she takes the seat next to Selenia. A loud crash from outside and the sound of several calming, whispering voices comes through the window. Luke laughs as he breaks the seal and opens the scroll. His laughter stops as he silently reads the royal proclamation, dropping the scroll into Nimby's waiting hands when he is done.

"Gabriel must be watching over all of us," the halfling states as he reads the scroll and nudges his friend's leg. "These are royal orders for Luke from Duke Solomon. Not some fake ones that he conned out of a messenger to become famous. Guess it has a different effect on him when they aren't forgeries."

"He's broken," Fritz suggests when Luke does not stop staring at the place where the scroll used to be in his hands.

Kellia patiently waits for them to stop poking and pushing the stunned half-elf. "My father has sent orders for Luke and four other adventurers to escort me back to Gods' Voice at the end of the semester. These orders come into effect in three months upon my graduation. I understand that the rest of you might not want to leave the academy, but there is a monetary reward for those who accept. Before you suggest Fizzle as your final member, his participation will not be counted as one of the four. We are unsure if he will remain with us if he even agrees to help in the first place due to drites being notoriously fickle. As such, my father will choose your fourth companion at a later date. We will tell you where this person can be found when we have made a decision. Is there any problem with this assignment, Luke?"

He finally snaps out of his trance and bows to the heiress. "No problem at all, your highness, but I won't force the rest of you into this. I understand that Nimby and Fritz are teachers here and Aedyn has to consult his temple. If you guys have something else to do then I can find others to go with me."

"I will ask my superiors to grant me leave from my duties until this mission for Duke Solomon begins. My superiors will see no problem in me escorting the Duke's heir and a young Callindor when the time comes," Aedyn explains, clapping the forest tracker on the shoulder with a wide smile across his face. "Besides, if your past actions have taught me anything, you will need a healer on your journey."

"I have some plans I wish to run past the Duke. It's not every day a gnome with my brains gets a royal summons," Fritz declares. He already has one of his notebooks out and is slowly thumbing through the pages. "Well, some of us do, but if you don't count getting called in as a result of property damages then it doesn't happen too often. In about three months, it will be time for me to once again entertain the women of Windemere. Count me and Bessaria in."

Luke shoots a sideways glance at Nimby, who is still reading the scroll. He turns it around and holds it up, the halfling hoping to find a secret message. He is oblivious to the quiet until he notices everyone is staring at him. Nimby grins and tucks the scroll into Luke's boot, patting him on the leg.

"What kind of friend would I be if I said no?" the thief asks in mock surprise with a dramatic hand on his chest. "Now I reserve the right to change my mind if something else comes up. Not that it will since I get bored rather easily around here. You don't mind losing your best carpenter, Selenia?"

"I think the academy can survive. If anything, things will stop disappearing and we'll be able to make our supply of apples last longer. You and that drite must be keeping the apple farmers of Windemere employed and wealthy," the headmistress replies, standing up to leave and waving for Betty to prepare the cafeteria for the next meal. "Now, I want all of you to get back to your classes. You may choose some classroom courses to keep yourself entertained once you finish your report, Aedyn. Three months is a long time. Duggan is waiting for you at the forge, Luke."

"Understood," the forest tracker says, following the others out of the cafeteria. A few cheers fill the courtyard when the nearby classes spot the young hero.

"What are you thinking, Luke?" Kellia asks, walking next to him.

"Honestly?"

"I would hope so. I'm royalty and it isn't wise to lie to someone who will rule a kingdom one day."

Luke takes a look around the academy and lets out a gentle sigh. "I think I'm going to like this hero thing. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to sneak out. See you for dinner and good luck telling Duggan why I can't make it to class. Thanks, your highness."

With that, the half-elf sprints toward the academy wall and races out the front door before anyone can stop him. He is so focused on getting to the trees that he fails to see Selenia and Kevin watching him from one of the archer posts. Both of the seasoned warriors watch him and nod as the young warrior disappears into Visindor Forest.

"Think he'll make it?" Kevin asks.

"I think I'm starting to understand what my mother was talking about. There are dark forces at work in Windemere and Luke is going to face them. I'm sure he'll be fine," Selenia answers, her voice gentle and kind. She notices her companion smirking and punches him in his good shoulder. "Though I'm not sure if he'll graduate if he keeps this up. Tell Duggan that Luke is sick and recovering in quarantine. Mention a contagious disease that prevents one from drinking alcohol and he'll not even bother to check on the boy."

Kevin lets out a guttural laugh before making his way down the ladder. Selenia continues watching the area around her academy, the trees regaining some of the color. She cannot help but smile as she absentmindedly fingers a zigzag scar over her heart, a remnant from her youthful encounter with a demon wielding a Chaoswind.

*****

" _Do you feel like you failed me, Lich?"_

"Yes, master. My sincerest apologies are not enough to stay your hand. I promise to get the heir like we originally planned."

" _Your memory has been damaged by that drite. The heir was not our true intent. The true target of our plans has appeared as I was hoping it would. I trust that you will see to it that the boy does not grow."_

"Yes, master."
Luke's adventures continue in

 Prodigy of Rainbow Tower

