Callindra returned to the room just in time to find Tryst setting out breakfast. Porridge and fruit with fresh baked bread, humble fare but filling and flavorful.
“Good, you’re back.” He said in greeting, “Come, break your fast and we will speak of the day to come. We will leave by the postern gate under my banner. Unless there is any reason to expect delay it should take us a fortnight to reach the Cathedral. Once there we will meet the Biscop and he will give us his blessing and the particulars of our mission.”

She set to with a will having worked up an appetite with her morning practice. “What are the travel conditions like around here?”

“Probably much the same as when you arrived.” Said Cronos, giving her a confused look.

“Yeah. I suppose.” She said around a mouthful of bread.

“The Lords do a fairly good job of keeping the road free of bandits and the like. Much of the upkeep of the surface itself is undertaken by locals who wish merchants to be able to easily pass by their farms and holdings.” Said Tryst, “I do not know about travel to the North and West but I would imagine the main trade route between the Capitol and Holding as large as Duke Gladthorne’s would be well protected and properly maintained.”

“Now all we have to worry about is making a graceful exit from this city.” Said Vilhylm, “I gather I’m not the only one who is leaving ahead of some… unwanted attention?” He looked pointedly at Callindra.

“When we are finished here we can leave by the postern gate. It should not be much of a challenge, we will be under my banner.” Tryst said. “The monks here have been kind enough to lend me horses for those of you who do not own one.”

–

True to his word, Tryst led his small group of warriors through the quiet morning streets and out the west gate without incident. Once on the road, Callindra discovered she had little skill with and less love for horse travel. The animal seemed to lurch in an ungainly fashion; she was forced to grip its wide barrel with her legs to keep her seat.

She was sure her inner thighs would be rubbed raw by the time they reached their destination. Her skirt was far too short to offer any protection and straddling the animal revealed a startling amount of leg. Too much even for the demands of her minimal modesty.

When they stopped for the midday meal, she gladly dismounted and stiffly stretched sore muscles. When she looked up she could see Vilhylm eyeing her horse with a questioning look on his face.

“What?” She said irritably rubbing her sore backside.

“I think your stirrups are a little too long.” He said, reaching out to adjust the buckles. “That should help a bit. I don’t think those priests are very familiar with riding further than the market or perhaps out to some of the outlying farms.”

Callindra stared at him for a moment, and then nodded in appreciation. “Thanks, I don’t know much about horses.”

“I’ve been living on the road for a long time. You pick up some things out of necessity.” He said, “You need to take the saddle off and walk him a bit before you water him, otherwise he might strain a muscle in the afternoon.”

Vilhylm showed her the basics of caring for the animal before they took some time to toast some bread and cheese over a small fire. Accompanied by a savory sausage and some wrinkled apples it made a good lunch.

They had saddled up and ridden for about an hour, thanks to Vilhylm’s modifications to her stirrup length a much more comfortable hour, when a thin column of smoke became visible ahead.

“That looks too large to be a campfire.” Said Callindra.

“Too dark, there’s cloth and leather burning in that fire.” Said Vilhylm, looking critically at the smoke, “I think we should prepare for trouble.” He paused and pulled a strangely carved mask from inside his cloak. Callindra could see several others in large pockets before his cloak covered them again.

Tryst was tightening the straps on his armor and Cronos was muttering an arcane incantation. Callindra shrugged and loosened Brightfang in his sheath.

“We should leave the horses here, out of danger.” Tryst said, “Unless any of you prefer to fight from horseback?”

They tied their animals to pickets in a small meadow a short distance from the road and continued on foot. Once they had topped a small rise, Callindra could see a scene of destruction displayed out in front of her. A small caravan lay in disarray, some wagons were burning, some turned on their sides, crates were smashed open and corpses lay strewn about.

Tryst rushed forward, checking the bodies for any signs of life. Callindra was appalled by the carnage; she had never imagined a human body could contain so much blood. Cronos didn’t even seem to notice the dead, walking past a caravan driver with his head nearly hacked off without batting an eyelash. Vilhylm plucked an arrow shaft from one of the caravans and examined it.

“Looks like Kobolds, not a human raiding party. Isn’t it strange for them to be this far south?” He said, “I thought they were mostly contained in the mountains and foothills.”

“They did a thorough job here.” Tryst said sadly, “No survivors.”

Callindra turned away from the carnage, towards the wooded hills. A light gust of wind moved the branches of the trees and she saw the outlines of small shapes. “Ware the hills!” Was all she managed before black fletched arrows filled the air.

Arrows struck the thick leather of her armor; others struck the caravans behind and the ground around her. With a steely rustle, she drew Brightfang from his sheath and whirled him in a complex series of arcs, harnessing the Weave and releasing a blast of wind that scattered the rest of the incoming shafts off course. The creatures ran from the cover of the trees, brandishing mostly clubs and rusted daggers, Callindra smiled and ran to meet their charge.

She glided through the incoming creatures, Brightfang sliding beneath the clumsy defense the first attempted and severing its arm. Adrenaline raged through her veins and her training took over. Callindra sidestepped an inept strike and lashed out, opening a terrible gash across the green skinned monster’s chest.

She could see Vilhylm’s black cloaked form slam into the charging Kobold’s and glanced in shock. The wooden mask on his face seemed to move as though it was part of his skin. His arms and shoulders were massively muscled and he used his hands as well as his feet to run and then pounce on one of the creatures with savage force.

“On your back!” Shouted Cronos, and Callindra could feel him close behind her. Thankful that she wouldn’t need to worry about an attack from behind, she focused on the foes in front.

The battle was short and brutal, the half-sized creatures had not the skills or the weapons to stand against their better trained and armed opponents. Although it seemed to last for hours, the fight took no more than minutes, leaving Callindra and her companions standing over their fallen foes, breathing heavily and bleeding from minor wounds.

“Is anyone badly hurt?” Tryst looked them over, concern evident on his face.

“I’m fine. I’ve had a lot worse.” Said Vilhylm, shrugging off any injuries he might be hiding under his black cloak.

“I have wounds that need dressing, but nothing serious.” Callindra said, gesturing to a particularly deep cut on her thigh with a wince. The adrenaline was wearing off and the pain of her injuries was beginning to surface.

“What do you think brought these monsters so far out of their normal range?” She looked around at the dead Kobolds and then at the dark blood that still clung to her sword blade and drew a shuddering breath, trying to calm her nerves.

“I don’t know, but it bodes ill.” Said Cronos, displaying more knowledge of the world than one so young normally would. “Likely it’s related to something worse inhabiting their caves.”

Callindra cleaned Brightfang on the canvas of one of the caravans, careful not to leave any of the acrid blood on the steel and tried to stop her hands from shaking. The others were still discussing the portent of the Kobolds presence but she couldn’t hear them anymore. How could anyone treat killing so casually? The reality of having just taken the lives of so many living beings rocked her to the core.

A hand fell on her shoulder, jolting her back to herself. “Are you OK Callindra?” Tryst asked.

“I just…” She took a deep breath, “That was my first battle. The first time I ever killed with my sword. It was not as I had imagined.”

“When it gets easier is when you should question yourself.” He said with a sad smile, “I am conflicted any time I’m forced to raise my hammer to do violence upon another. That hesitation has nearly cost me my life more than once, but that risk is worth the preservation of my humanity.”

“I fear we may not have the luxury of hesitation if fell things are invading the world of men.” Vilhylm said, walking over to where they sat. “The lives of many may well depend on our swift and decisive action.”

“I will always strive to uphold the First Oath my master taught me.” Callindra said, “Battle shall always be my last resort. My honor belongs to those weaker than myself. The edge of my sword stands against the Unlawful. Always seek peace, equilibrium in the world mirroring the balance of my blade. The wind blows impartially on sea and wildfire, on forest and mountain, bringing the seasons to pass. I am as the wind.”

“Those are flowery words girl, but try and apply that when facing a mob of angry villagers who blame you for something that’s gone wrong.” Sneered Cronos, “Besides, don’t you think these are weaker than you?” He said, kicking one of the Kobold corpses.

“There’s nothing wrong with having ideals as long as you don’t let them get you killed.” Said Vilhylm.

“I have been the weakest before; I know what it’s like on the bottom. None of you have any idea what it’s like to be a girl working in a Lord’s Holding.” Callindra retorted, “I won’t abuse what I have been given, nor will I allow others to do so if it’s within my power to stop them. These creatures slaughtered an innocent caravan not to mention they attacked us without provocation, their actions forfeit the peace of the First Oath.”

Cronos gave her a critical look, “Just don’t put your ideas about justice before my life; I don’t share your ridiculous optimism about the world.” He spun on his heel and walked back towards where the horses were tethered.

Vilhylm looked after his retreating form, “I’ve been here before Callindra and I’ve been where you are also. I admire your convictions. I wish I still shared them.”

“Someone has to; otherwise what’s the point of being alive?” She sheathed Brightfang with practiced ease.

“I trust you won’t turn up your nose at the spoils of battle?” He asked holding out a small pouch, “Those Kobolds had a bit of silver on them. It’s not much but we all have needs. That armor of yours will need to be repaired after today at very least.”

She took the pouch and held it in her hand. “This was likely the property of these caravan drivers recently. It probably belongs to their families.”

“There’s no way of knowing that now.” Vilhylm said, “If you want to survive you are going to have to think of yourself eventually. It’s impossible to always put others first Callindra.”

“I will accept this, but there are more important things than money.” Callindra said, tying the pouch to her belt, “I fought back to back with Cronos today. He treated me like an equal on the battlefield, you all did. I don’t know if I can explain what that means to me other than to say I will lay down my life to protect you.”

“Well said Callindra, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Tryst said with a wry smile.

The official repeated the rules in a bored voice and once again stepped aside and allowed their contest to begin.  Genric immediately pressed the attack and Callindra was only barely able to dodge to one side in order to avoid being hit.  The rapid strikes didn’t cease, she found herself desperately defending from swing after swing, completely unable to return even one single attack.  Just when she was backed up to the edge of the ring, Callindra saw an opening in his uninterrupted series of attacks.

Dropping to one knee, she swung her practice lath sword to connect soundly with Genric’s ribs.  Moments later, his sword slammed into her left shoulder.  She bit back a cry of pain; he had nearly broken her collarbone.  But how had he managed to strike such a blow with a loosely tied bundle of lath?

She rolled sideways and came up in a defensive crouch.  The answer was clear when she saw the look in Genric’s face; his practice sword had a steel core.  Callindra’s mouth thinned into an angry line, there was no way she was going to give up when facing someone who resorted to breaking the rules to win.  This called for drastic measures.

Rising from her crouch, she assumed the Earth and Sky Stance, left hand nearly touching the ground sword pointing towards the heavens.  She looked him straight in the face, “You have talent Genric, why in the nine hells would you lower yourself to this?”

“You know little about the world girl.  I can take no chances.”

“Even with your preparations you will fail.  Doubting your own skills shall be your undoing.”  She held the awkward Stance perfectly, knowing it would allow her to explode into action without warning the instant an opening presented itself.  Either Genric was familiar with the Stance or it confused him because he kept a safe distance, circling her slowly.

Callindra altered her footing slightly in order to keep him in her threat range.  She faltered slightly when her right foot encountered a rock and Genric sprang forward, swinging his sword at her head with a snarl.  In near panic, Callindra swept her practice blade in a wild arc from the apex, nearly scraping the ground and coming into shattering contact with the steel-cored sword threatening to fracture her skull.

Instead of merely breaking apart, her sword exploded, an unexpected and uncontrolled burst of Weave breaking free as a result of her panicked loss of control.  Slivers of lath flew in all directions from the epicenter of contact, showering everyone sitting around the ring.  Genric’s lath sword didn’t fare any better and the steel core was revealed as it flew from his grip to fall in the sand, bent at an angle where the power of her strike had bent it.  Hardly anyone seemed to notice it shining in the sunlight.

“What in the name of Gode was that?” Asked the official.

“You have the gall to accuse me of being dishonest?” Genric said incredulously, “That power… I would kill for that kind of power.”

Callindra looked around and saw the glow of Weave surrounding a man in robes who was making his way towards the ring.  Without thinking, she ran to the edge of the ring, snatched Brightfang from where he sat leaning against the low bench and sprinted out of the courtyard.  The sound of confusion erupted from behind her as she fled into the afternoon traffic outside the gate.

–

The door to the cathedral building where she had last seen Tryst was still thankfully open.  Callindra burst through, surprising some men in rough robes as she ran inside, breathing heavily from her mad dash.

“Do you know if Tryst is around?”  She managed, catching her breath.

“Slowly child, this is a place of rest and peace.”  One of the men said, reaching a hand towards her shoulder.

Callindra slid sideways, avoiding his touch.  “I need to find Tryst Te’Chern.  I believe he was going to leave tomorrow morning.  I’d like to join him.”

“Come, sit for a moment and I will see if young Tryst can be found.” The monk said, leading her back to the public area she had sat in before.  She let him settle her at a table with a mug of sweet white wine.  After he had gone, she shifted to have her back to the wall and waited nervously.

People came and went, largely dressed in the simple robes of monks although she could tell some of them had military background by their bearing.  None gave her more than a passing glance though and gradually she began to relax.  Her wine cup was empty by the time she was joined by Tryst.

“So, you’ve come back?”  He asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

“Yes.  I’ve decided I want to leave with you tomorrow.” Callindra said.

“Whatever trouble you have gotten yourself into is unfortunate Callindra.  However, I will not have it jeopardize my mission.” Tryst looked at her gravely, “If you cannot leave here in peace you are unwelcome, regardless of how useful your talents would be to my cause.”

“I did not come to this place in peace Tryst, yet you asked me before.”  She looked at him with haunted eyes, “I will not say that I am of no danger to you.  The men that are after me will kill me if they are able to catch me, but first they will torture me for information that I would not give if I had it.  Please, at least let me stay with you until I’m strong enough to defend myself.”

Tryst listened pensively.  “Maybe it’s the will of the Gods that I haven’t been able to find any others willing to join me.  I had wanted an army or at least a reasonably sized fighting force, but perhaps a small group would be less obtrusive.  We leave tomorrow before sunup, why don’t you stay here tonight?  You could meet the others who will be traveling with us.”

“Sure, I don’t have any reason to go back to the Empty Keg anyway, except for maybe to say goodbye to some people.  I think they’ll understand though, life can change without warning.  I’ll see them again someday.”

“Very well Callindra, come with me.  You aren’t the only one who needs shelter from something.  Vilhylm is an interesting person, I think he hides more than he reveals about himself.  Maybe that’s why he wears the masks.  Cronos seems to be fairly straightforward but I do occasionally catch him muttering to himself in some guttural language that I don’t understand.  Regardless, both of them are trustworthy and willing to undertake this mission of mine.  Of ours.”

Callindra left her half glass of wine on the table and stood to follow Tryst further into the halls of the cathedral.  As they walked, the tapestries grew sparser, the bare granite walls revealing the austerity the monks and priests who lived here subjected themselves to.  After a few turns, he arrived at a nondescript door and after knocking twice entered.

A young man or possibly boy sat at a low table, polishing a hand and a half sword that looked two times too big for him.  Barely visible in the shadows near a slit of a window was a cloaked individual, the hood pulled over its face as it carefully sanded a thin strip of wood.

“Cronos, Vilhylm, I wish to introduce the last member of our party.  Her name is Callindra.” Said Tryst in a bright voice.

“Her?  You’re bringing a girl onboard?” The boy asked, his voice nearly cracking, “Tryst really, you must be joking.”

“Welcome Callindra.” Said the hooded figure in a raspy disused voice, “I trust you are able and willing to use that toothpick?”

“Come now gentlemen, this is hardly the way to greet a new member.” Said Tryst, “Callindra is a true warrior.  She is fearless, I saw her face down three opponents without flinching.  She will be a good addition.”

“A hooded recluse and a little kid?  Tryst, I can’t believe you thought twice about bringing me with.” Said Callindra with a laugh, “Really, we are the best you could do?  Well I suppose nobody else is desperate or foolish enough to think about throwing their lives away for nothing.”

“Cronos is my brother and Vilhylm is a friend.  They have their own reasons for doing what they do.”  Said Tryst with a sigh.

“Well I’m tired and more than a little sore from my day in the ring.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to turn in early tonight, especially if we’re leaving before sunrise.” She said, “I need to run the Korumn tomorrow before we leave to make sure I’m ready for anything that comes.”

A look of surprise flickered across Cronos’s face but before he could say anything Tryst led her to a small room with a bed against one wall.  “If you wish to wash I can show you to the women’s bath.”

“Yes, it would be good to wash the dust and sweat of the day away.  Unfortunately I don’t have clean clothes but it will be better than the alternative.”  Callindra said, “Who knows when we’ll see another bath house once we are on the road.”

“I fear the robes most wear here would not suit you or I would offer.”  Tryst said with a wry chuckle.

–

Callindra rose earlier than usual, responding to a mental exercise Glarian had taught her.  He said it was useful when traveling or on a battlefield and had been surprised at how easily she had learned to use it.  Thinking of him gave her a pang of regret which she quickly suppressed.

“Bastard thinks I’m just going to sit here and wait for him?” She muttered, angrier at him for making her worry than anything else.  She rose and frowned at her sweat crusted underthings.  “I don’t think so, not while he’s out there running for his life because he taught me how to fight.  I owe him and I owe it to both of us to become strong enough to pull my weight.”

She pulled on her clothes with a sigh and padded barefoot out through the common room with a sheathed Brightfang slung over her shoulder.  Her hair moved as furtive gusts of air tugged at it.  “Yes, good morning.” She mumbled, walking to the staircase Tryst had pointed her to the night before when she asked for a place she could practice.

The light of the setting full moon illuminated the small courtyard that was at the end of the stairs.  A whiff of burning tac caused her to look over the carefully groomed shrubs and combed sand to see a man sitting on a bench.  He was wearing the simple robes that the rest of the monks here did but he was older.  A gnarled walking stick sat next to him and he gave her a nod in passing before returning to the simple pleasure of his early morning smoke.

Callindra put him out of her mind and stepped onto an area of manicured sand.  Facing north she began the first Korumn, breathing the power of creation and exhaling that of destruction.  Once she was calm and focused the remaining six beginning Korumn flowed naturally, Brightfang whistling cheerfully through the air.

The final Korumn, Marking the Compass completed the set and Callindra sheathed her sword with a flourish.  A light sheen of sweat beaded on her forehead but her breathing was slow and even.  The ever-present capricious breezes had ceased to pester her, all was at peace.

“You’ll need to rake that sand lass.” Callindra jumped at the old man speaking from the shadows, “You don’t seem to have left many footprints but we don’t need a compass rose in the center of our tranquil garden.”

She looked and saw that the release of Weave and winds at the end of the Korumn had all but erased the marks of her feet and instead a perfect compass pointed in eight directions radiating out from where she stood.

The scent of tac reminded her of Glarian and the surety of his voice automatically engendered respect, Callindra didn’t even think of questioning his authority. “Sorry about that, I just needed a quiet place to practice.” She said, walking to where the coarse-toothed rake leaned against a large rock.  “I’ll put it back the way it was.”

Closing her eyes, Callindra tried to remember what the pattern on the sands had been.  Something with circles, moving around the few large stones that were arrayed on the sand in a seemingly random fashion.  After a short time, she managed to get a fair approximation of what she thought it should look like, set the rake down and nodded to the man.

“Thanks for letting me practice here.”  After she left, the man studied the patterns she had traced on the sand with an inscrutable look on his face.

“That one.  She is going to be trouble.  Even so she was able to put the tumult that surrounds her on the sand so artfully.” He mused, drawing on his pipe, “The patterns she has left are exquisite, perhaps there is hope for her yet.”

“Name?”  The man sat behind a desk with a ledger open before him.  He looked hopelessly out of place in the arena, old and thin with only a few wisps of hair left on his head.

“Callindra.”  She replied, watching as he marked it down.  He looked up expectantly and she shook her head, “That’s it.”

He marked an X in the surname column, “Age?”

“Eighteen” she replied, staring down his disbelieving look until he shrugged, muttering and marked it down as well.

“School?”

Callindra had given this a bit of thought.  She knew she wasn’t supposed to mention her master.  After all it was teaching her that had gotten him into trouble in the first place.  Saying she was self-taught seemed to dishonor his teaching though; she was proud of the things he had shown her.  After some consideration had decided to give a generic enough name that nobody would question it.

“Northwind.”  He glanced at her briefly before marking that down as well.

“Class?”

“What?”

“Classification.” He said patiently, obviously having had to repeat the same speech several times today, “The type of position you wish to try out for.  I’m guessing light infantry?”

“No, I want to be a scout.” She said, having heard this was a coveted position.

“Everyone wants to be a scout.  Can you shoot?” He asked, “I notice you don’t have a bow.”

“No, I never had a knack for the bow.  I’m sort of a specialist.” Callindra said.

“A part of the trial for entrance into that particular group will be an archery contest.  Only the best get in girl, it’s the only way they can maintain an elite unit.”  He paused and set down his quill.  “I can’t stop you from wasting your time, but I might rethink that choice if I were you.”

Callindra was surprised by this turn of kindness, “What would you suggest sir?”

“Take the trial for light infantry and if you do well enough you might convince some Lord or another to make you his daughter’s warden.  It’s decent work, and since you’re a girl it would allow you to keep guard even when she is in places where her father would never let a man attend.”

“Sit in a room and watch some spoiled brat all day?  I don’t know, sounds like a waste of my training to me.” She sighed, knowing he was probably right, at least about the Scout position she wanted.  Maybe she could get some experience and try to join the Wolves after she’d proven herself. “Thanks for the advice, put me down for light infantry then.”

He marked that down as well, nodding in satisfaction that she had followed his suggestion.  “You’re a little early, you can go warm up in ring six.  Since you are a sword specialist, most of your testing will revolve around hand to hand combat, you will be provided with a practice blade.”

Callindra nodded and made her way past a lavish tent towards her appointed station.  A man stopped her as she walked past, “You, girl!  Where did you get that armor?”

“A master of leatherworking by the name of Markson made it.”  She said, “His shop is in the–“

“I know where his shop is.”  The man interrupted, “To think he would throw it in his lordship’s face.”  He snorted, “You’re playing a foolish and dangerous game girl.”

“What do you mean?”  Callindra asked, but the man had already spun on his heel, causing his richly embroidered cloak to flare as he stalked away.  She shrugged, the fool didn’t even have a sword.  Besides, wearing armor certainly couldn’t get her into trouble; even if it had once been intended for someone else.

Much to her surprise, the majority of the morning had been spent on drills, tests of military terminology and tactics.  Callindra felt she had done fairly well, the books she had read were slightly outdated but much of the knowledge they contained was still relevant.  She hoped it was anyway.  The sun was hot and sitting in her armor was beginning to get uncomfortable.

“Right!  Head to mess and report to your assigned ring for combat testing!”  Said the man who had most recently been grilling them individually about infantry strategies.

Callindra rose and followed the rest into a large tent where bread, meat, cheese and water were being doled out in large quantities.  She took her share with a nod of thanks and sat at the nearest table.  In spite of the training she’d endured, the promise of a fight against an unknown opponent was a frightening prospect.  The feeling seemed to be prevalent among many of her peers, there wasn’t much talking among them.

Between bites she glanced around the room, noting the wide variety of armaments and armor.  Twice when idly looking about she caught a man in nondescript clothes staring at her.  The second time he met her eye his mouth parted in a vicious grin and pushed through the line of people waiting their turn to eat.

She finished her meal, eating out of necessity rather than because she wanted to.  She brought her plate back to the table and then returned to the ring.  She sat cross-legged with Brightfang across her knees and allowed the trance of meditation to overtake her.  Her breath was the breath of the Winds and calm fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Callindra of Northwind, you’re facing Fash Con’Anin from Stoneforge.  Enter the ring.”  The official looked at Callindra, “Leave your blade there.”

Reluctantly, she unbuckled Brightfang and lay him down on the sand.  She stepped into the ring and took the bundled lath practice sword from the official, hefting it to feel the balance.  It wasn’t too bad, although the blade was slightly too heavy.  Her opponent was doing the same.

“The fight is over when one combatant achieves three hits.  Hands, feet, neck, groin and face are off limits.  This is a test of control as well as skill, you are not to hit full strength.  Leave the ring and you are disqualified immediately.  I want a clean fight.” Said the official, checking each of them in turn to make sure they understood.  When they both nodded he stepped back, “Begin!”

Callindra could hear Glarian’s voice in her head, ‘When you aren’t sure of your opponent, attack quickly with a shallow strike that will not leave you vulnerable.  That way you can set the rhythm of the fight and feel out your adversary’s skill at the same time.’

She leaped forward, striking like a whip crack at Fash’s right shoulder.  He flinched backward and Callindra realized this practice sword was a hand span shorter than Brightfang.  When her opponent offered no counterattack, she pressed on, striking a rapid series of blows.  She struck chest, right leg, left shoulder in a flowing series of attacks, the bundled lath making a satisfying *clack* with each successful blow.

When she had struck three times, Callindra stepped back into the Ready Stance and waited.  The official gave her an appraising look and nodded sharply.  “Victory goes to Callindra of Northwind.  You may rest in the shade until your next match.”

She put her right fist over her heart, still gripping her sword in her other hand with the blade reversed to run up her left forearm and bowed from the waist to the official and her opponent.  Fash was staring at her in shocked disbelief.

“But you’re a girl!”  He bleated, “Just a stupid girl!”

Callindra walked back and reclaimed Brightfang.  Slinging his comfortable sheathed weight over her shoulder she turned to fix Fash with a baleful stare, “Take your loss and learn from it, never underestimate an opponent based on foolish prejudice.”

One or two of the other fighters assembled laughed as she walked the few steps back to a sun shade behind the ring.  Callindra realized she was the only female she had seen in her group and scanned the others and only saw a handful of other women.  She looked back at the fight in the ring before her; wanting to gauge the potential opponent’s strength against the chance she might be facing them across a blade.

While she sat, a young girl approached her.  A man at arms was awkwardly accompanying her and holding a parasol to stave off the sun’s rays.

“Good morrow.” The girl said, bobbing a practiced curtsey.

Callindra glanced at her, and then turned her attention back to the current fight.

“My name is Miss Blackforge, Nina Blackforge.”  The girl continued, pausing to see what affect her name had.  When Callindra didn’t react, she pressed on.  “Are you really a strong fighter?  I mean my father wants me to have a protector but I cannot tolerate the thought of a man with a sword attending me all the time.”

The fight below was over and while the combatants were changing places Callindra looked directly at the girl, “Looks like you’ve already got a man attending you all the time Miss Blackforge.”

“Well, he is not with me all the time.”  She blushed artfully, “Certainly you understand my meaning?”

“What are you worried about someone breaking in on you when you’re bathing or taking a shi- er potty break?” Callindra asked, watching as the next two fighters entered the ring.

Nina blushed a deeper shade of red, “I’m sure I don’t know, but I would just feel more comfortable with female company.”

“I don’t know about that, but I can understand there are times it’s better to have girls around than boys.” Said Callindra, “Listen, I don’t know who your father is and I don’t know why you think you need protection but if you want my honest opinion the only way to be protected is to take matters into your own hands.”

The guard holding the parasol gave her a shrewd look, half approving and half incredulous.

“What, you mean learn to use a sword?”  Nina broke into a silvery peal of laughter, “You surely must be joking!”

“No I’m not.” Callindra retorted, “Why do you think I demanded my master teach me the Sword in the first place?  I refuse to allow anyone else to dominate me.  I won’t be subjugated because I’m too weak to stand up for myself.”

“But here you are, trying out for a position in the military.  You do know that you will be required to follow orders in the military don’t you?” Nina raised an eyebrow, “I wonder just how independent you would be then?”

“I suppose that is true Nina but for me this is simply a means to grow stronger.” Callindra said, “I must have experience if I am to attain the strength needed.  Training will only get you so far and I’ve reached the limits of what can be taught.  Now it is up to me to bend the world to my will and wrest the knowledge I need from it.”

“What are you after that you need to pursue this kind of power?” The girl asked, “You can’t be much older than I.”

“I fear I’m older than I look.  You are perhaps fourteen?”  Nina nodded, “I thought as much, I’m four years your senior.  It’s less what I’m after and more what’s after me but I am searching for someone as well.  It’s complicated.”

Nina looked at her thoughtfully, “Well if you win I’m going to ask daddy to hire you anyway.  Maybe I can help you find the person you’re looking for.”  With that, she turned and glided away, her unfortunate soldier striding in her wake and holding the parasol to keep her shaded.

“Stupid to hold that damn sun shade, he’d never be able to draw his sword in time.” Callindra muttered, turning her full attention back to the ring.

Most of the other combatants were unremarkable; with the man she had seen watching her from the doorway to the mess tent being the only exception.  He dispatched his opponent with brutal and precise attacks that spoke of an experienced warrior, not a green recruit.  After his victory he came and sat next to her on the bench in the shade.

“Nice fight.” She offered, not sure why he had chosen to sit so close since there was plenty of other room.

“He was a weakling.  I hate being forced into this stupid formality; the Lord should know already that I’m worthy.”

“What do you mean?  Isn’t it good to test your skills against other schools?”  Callindra asked.

“Why don’t you just quit.  Quit right now and I won’t have to lower myself by fighting you.”  He was looking at her with disgust on his face, “What sort of a test is fighting a stripling girl?  It’s humiliating that I’m even asked to do so.”

“Why don’t YOU just quit?”  Callindra’s voice lowered dangerously and a gust of wind blew dust into his face. “I will teach you the meaning of humility when I defeat you.”

The man broke out laughing, “You have spirit, I’ll grant that little one.  Don’t let it put words in your mouth that you can’t back up though.  It’ll be the death of you.”

“You aren’t the first to underestimate me.  You’ve already seen what results from it in my last fight.”  She gave him an evil smile, “Tell Lord Graylocke he should have just purchased this armor if he wanted to avoid humiliation, if he’ll even talk with you after your defeat that is.”  A sharp gust of wind whipped between them, causing the canvas of the shelter to shudder and strain against its moorings.

Before he could respond, the official below called out, “Callindra of Northwind, you will face Genric of Stonearm.”

She stood and strode to the ring, closely followed by the man she had just been verbally sparring with.  Once again, she reluctantly left Brightfang just outside the raised level of the ring before stepping up onto the packed sand.  Once Genric entered on the other side, she assumed the Ready Stance.

She walked out the front door of the inn, noting the sign read “Empty Keg” before strolling towards the market place.  Even this early the sounds of hawkers crying their wares filled the air as many folk looking similar to her were making their way in the same direction.  Callindra realized that she was likely the youngest looking person here, although she was willing to bet some of the boys were younger in spite of being nearly twice her size.

“Watch it you!”  A man yelled, bumping into her, “Show some respect for your elders!”

“Please accept my apologies grandfather.” Callindra replied with a sardonic grin, “I was careless.”  He was hardly old enough to be her father, and his face reddened with anger at her slight.

In a twinkling, he had a dagger drawn.  “I should teach a little chit like you some respect perhaps?”  Two more men emerged from an alley, leading Callindra to suspect this wasn’t the first time they’d run this little game.

“Yeh gotta pay fer disrespec lil un.  Fee’s six gold.”  Said the first.

“Ifn yeh aint got it then we’ll just take tha sword.” The second said.

Callindra swept Brightfang from his sheath in a blur of shining steel, knocking the dagger aside with ease.  Compared to sparring with Glarian this was going to be nothing.

“Three on one does not seem like fair odds!”  A voice with rich timbre sounded behind her.  Callindra half turned and saw a wall of polished steel chainmaile that reflected the morning sunlight and a shield that seemed unnaturally bright.  The man’s face was almost beautiful, his rich blue surcoat had no sigil but she was pretty sure he was in a knightly order.

“I don’t need your help Sir Knight; this scum will likely run before their blood fills the gutter.”  The men looked slightly nervous.

“Alas I am not a knight; however there is perhaps some assistance I can render if necessary.”  He drew a huge hammer from where it rested in a reinforced loop on his belt, then dropped it to the ground with a thud that she swore she could feel reverberate through her feet.  “I must warn you that I will not allow anyone to be killed.  From the look of things I may be forced to restrain you young lady.”

“Alas I am no lady, and if you attempt to restrain me I am not responsible for the injuries you will sustain.”  Callindra said.

“Your voice could raise frost on this shield I believe.”  The man said, “Our conversation seems to have deprived you of entertainment however.”

Callindra saw that her would-be assailants had melted back into the crowd, some of whom were still watching in hopes that there would be a fight.  She sheathed her sword and extended her hand.

“I’m Callindra Sol’Estin.”  It was customary for an apprentice to assume the surname of her Master once out in the world and she had decided that she was taking it even if Glarian wasn’t here to give his approval.

“Tryst Te’Chern.”  He grasped her hand firmly, “You really should watch yourself in this city Callindra.  There are many who would try to take advantage of you.”

“Yes, they may try, and if they have the brains of a dung beetle they may live to run away.  I won’t be here for long and by the time I’m leaving I’m sure my company will take care of me.  Thanks for your concern though Tryst.”  Callindra turned to go.

“Wait, if you are looking for employment in a mercenary company perhaps I can be of assistance.  I have been asked by the leader of my Temple to find worthy associates for an important task.  Mayhap the Gods have had a hand in our meeting?” He said, carefully restoring his hammer to the loop on his belt.

“I don’t think so Tryst.  I haven’t seen anything that would lead me to believe in Gods.  I live by the edge of my sword, the worth of my training and the strength of my body.”

“Is that so?  How then did you come to this place?  Your garb suggests a slightly more… wild upbringing.”  He quirked an eyebrow, an expression that would have made most men look silly but simply made his face seem even more innocent and attractive.  “Of course I mean no offence.”

“I’m not sure, but I expect my Master had a hand in it and if that old man is a God then I’m afraid you’d be disappointed in your faith.” Callindra replied, “If I can’t find a company here that fits my needs where can I find you?”

“Leave me a message at the Temple to Harn and I will get it.” Tryst said, “There is something about you that leads me to believe you will join me Callindra.  I sense in you the strength and daring needed for a task this dangerous.”

She watched him stride purposefully down the street, wondering what the task he had mentioned entailed in spite of herself.  It wouldn’t be a terrible thing to have that mountain of metal on her side.

–

It was late afternoon and Callindra was tired, thirsty and frustrated.  The only companies that had even allowed her to try out insisted that she was too young to campaign and would have to spend at least an additional year or two training before she was permitted to fight.  She’d had enough training, she needed to be in combat if she was going to progress fast enough to catch Glarian.

She leaned against the side of a building with a sigh, enjoying the shade for a moment.  A door opened and she started to move away before the shop keep could rebuke her for loitering.

“Callindra?  Is that you?”  She recognized the voice of the priest who had attempted to rescue her earlier in the day.  “I didn’t expect you to come so quickly.  Come inside and take some refreshment.”

Tryst wasn’t wearing his armor, now he was clad in a simple but well-fitting linen tunic and trousers with the sigil of a shining shield on the breast.

“Sorry Tryst, I didn’t mean to come here.  I was merely seeking a moment’s shade before pressing on.”  She said, fearing that if she entered it would give the man the wrong idea.  She still intended to find her own way in the world.

“Oh.”  His face fell, “I was hoping… well, no matter.  Come inside anyway, I can offer you shade and cool wine before you continue your search.  Our door is open to all without obligation.”

With a cautious glance, Callindra could indeed see that the doors seemed to be rusted open.  These hinges had not been moved for a long time.  “Thank you Tryst, I’ll take you up on that.”

Once inside the temple Tryst moved in an unhurried stride, even so Callindra found herself having to trot to keep up as she took two steps for each one of his.  The furnishings were austere; the only decorations were hammers and shields, each one with a plaque detailing the accomplishments and eventual demise of the wielder.

He led her to a simple room, apparently a common eating area of some sort.  There were a few similarly attired men and women sitting in quiet conversation. Callindra was painfully aware that she was the only outsider present, even though nobody made an issue of it.  Tryst sat at a table and poured two cups of wine, taking a sip and gesturing to the seat across from him.

“Thanks, I was getting parched out there.”  She said, accepting the cup and sitting gratefully, “So tell me about this mission of yours.”

Tryst gave her a quizzical look, “I thought you weren’t interested?”

“Well I figure if I’m enjoying your shade and drinking your wine I should at least listen to what you have to say.  Besides if we don’t have some kind of conversation it’s going to be a touch awkward don’t you think?”  She sipped the wine and found it to be a simple, yet refreshing white.

“I’m sure you have heard tales of destruction in the North, but even more troubling is what’s not being said.  My order has seen and fought demons there with terrible causalities.  Creatures that burned from within, infecting others with the bright green flames of abyssal fire even as they died.”

“I was always taught that Gode and Onde, the elder gods kept the world in balance and would not allow devils or angels to touch it.”

“Here I thought you didn’t believe in Gods?”  Tryst gave her that quizzical look again and she blushed in spite of herself, “Regardless of that, with so many of us busy fighting there are few left to undertake tasks for the Biscop and so I am forced to recruit from outside our walls.”

“I’ve never met a God, therefore I don’t have any reason to believe in them.” She said.

“How sad to believe in so little.” Tryst said, “If I only acknowledged that which I could see I would limit myself to almost nothing.”

“As for your Biscop, what is the task he asks of you?  Or can’t you tell me unless I agree?”  Callindra asked, leaning back against the cool stones of the wall.

“I don’t know the details, only that they wish me to gather capable companions and venture west.  I have heard rumors though that they are trying to make contact with some older powers.”  He lowered his voice, “I think they want me to contact the forest folk, the Old Ones.”

Callindra laughed, “The Fey haven’t existed for an age, if they even existed at all!  Your superiors can’t expect us to find something that isn’t there.”

“Demons walk among us, I have heard it from the mouths of men whose word is above reproach.” Tryst said gravely, “Something is changing Callindra, and I fear things will get worse before they get better.”

“So who else have you found to assist you on this errand?  When do you leave?” She asked, not entirely certain why she was entertaining the idea of joining him.

“I have a pair of warriors.  You can meet them if you choose to join us; I will allow them to introduce themselves.” Said Tryst, “We leave first light day after tomorrow.  I must be in the main cathedral in a fortnight’s time.”

Callindra finished her wine and stood with a smile, “I don’t know why, but I’m thinking about joining you Tryst.”

“I do hope you will come with us Callindra, I believe we would benefit from your impulsive spirit.” He said with a wry grin.

“You sound like an old man Tryst, if your companions are anything like you I think I’d go insane after a couple of days.”

“Or perhaps we would be a calming influence upon you.  There must be balance in all things Callindra.”

“If I calm down I’m likely to be destroyed.  I’ve only survived this long by being unpredictable.”  With that she turned and walked quickly out the door without waiting for his response.

On her way back to the Empty Keg, Callindra walked through a different part of the city.  She partially wanted to scout for some other mercenary companies but had also just wanted to explore a little.  By some random chance she happened down a row of shops carrying arms and armor.  When she paused to look at a set of leather armor, the proprietor all but chased her off.

“I don’t do custom work here, only basic fittings and I don’t carry anything for females!”  He said, scowling at her ragtag appearance.

“I wouldn’t want to buy something with that kind of sloppy stitching.”  She retorted, “This looks like it would fall apart just from being worn, I’d hate to see what would happen if someone struck it with a blade.”

The man appeared to be choking on his own tongue but the man standing in the door of the shop next door laughed.  “Looks like she’s got your number Kerrik!  Come here girl, I’ve got the quality you’re looking for.”

Callindra sauntered across to him, adjusting her baldric with a smirk.  When she stepped into the room, she could immediately see this man was selling very good work.  She could also see there was no way she would ever be able to afford anything he would be selling.

“Amazing.  I’ve never seen craftsmanship like this before.” She said, “I wish I could buy some.”

“I think I might have something that would suit you.”  He replied, “I can’t sell it because it’s not complete and the Lord who ordered it has decided to purchase merchandise of lesser quality.”

“I really can’t afford to buy…” Her voice trailed off as he opened a cabinet and withdrew a full upper body set of leather armor.  Beautifully tooled with a delicate pattern along every edge, it was dark brown and had royal blue highlights.

“It was made for the Lord’s daughter.  For when she went hawking I gather, but when he realized the price wouldn’t be negotiable simply because he had a title and he could find others to do decorative work for less he refused to pay.  I haven’t been able to find anyone slight enough of form that it would fit but I think this might just work for you.”  He unlaced the pauldrons from the breastplate and held it out to her.

Knowing she couldn’t afford it didn’t stop Callindra from unbuckling Brightfang and carefully setting him within easy reach.  With the shop keep’s help, she put the breastplate on and adjusted the buckles so that it would fit her properly.  It hugged her body as though it had been designed specifically for her.  There was even a set of straps to affix her baldric in place over the right shoulder.

“It’s beautiful.  I can’t believe how well it fits.”  She said, bending and feeling the armor flex with her.  “How do you get it to be this strong and yet so supple at the same time?”

“That’s the secret of good leather armor, or any armor really.  It has to be sturdy enough to turn a blow but still leave the wearer sufficiently mobile to fight to her full potential.”  He was studying her closely and reached out to tighten one of the buckles before settling the pauldrons over her shoulders and fitting them in place.

With the armor completely strapped down, Callindra felt invincible.  The thick boiled and waxed leather would turn most blows she was unwary or unlucky enough to allow to land but it seemed to barely impede her movement at all.

“I knew I’d saved this for a reason, he is going to die of apoplexy when he sees you wearing this.”  He chuckled, “What’s your name girl?”

“I – uh Callindra.” She responded, a bit taken aback by the look on his face.

“No, your full name.  I know you’ve been formally trained just by the way you walk, but the way your sword moves with you is a dead giveaway.  Your trainer did tell you about Naming right?”

“I took my Master’s name.  I am Callindra Sol’Estin, and you are?”

“Gerard Markson.”  His eyebrows rose slightly and he extended his hand.  She shook it firmly, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance Callindra.  OK, I’ll make you a deal.  You attend the Trials this afternoon and wear this armor.  If anyone asks you where you got it from you tell them from Markson.  If you win, I’ll give it to you for free.”

“What?  Why would you do that?”  She touched the armor almost reverently, “This is … I’ve seen what your work is worth.  I don’t think I can accept it.”  The regret she felt was palpable.

“You’ll get my name out there a little more, especially when you win.  You can win can’t you?”

“I don’t know what these Trials are, but if it’s a fight then I will win.”  She smiled dangerously, “If I have this kind of incentive then I’m guaranteed to win.”

“Good, it’s settled then.  Make sure you get someone to help you adjust it before you get in there, otherwise it’ll throw you off.”  She could hear him mutter under his breath, “He’ll never live this down, the bastard.”

“What was that?”  She asked, wondering what other strings might be attached.

“Lord Graylocke will be completely humiliated when you are seen wearing this armor.  After all, it has his House colors and similar patterns to his Crest but you are certainly not his daughter.  Of course I waited to make the final additions that would complete it as a registered piece of Graylocke regalia, so you are technically allowed to wear it.”  Gerard said.

“I’d wear it even if I wasn’t allowed!  Armor like this is wasted simply sitting in a cupboard.”  Callindra smiled, “I’ll put it to good use.”

When she came to, Callindra saw the ceiling of an unfamiliar room with her right hand cramped on Brightfang’s hilt. She sat up; she was in a narrow room, lying on a bed with a rough straw tic.  Sounds of others waking and moving about in nearby rooms reached her ears shortly before a familiar voice tickled her ears.

“Apprentice, I regret I was unable to see your triumphant return.  Those Inquisitors were waiting for me and found you instead.  Fear not, they will now believe you dead.  Be careful, this town I have brought you to is unknown to you.  The room in which you stay is mine and therefore yours as long as you want it.  I will find you when it is safe, do not look for me.”  With that Glarian’s voice faded and made her wonder where he was now.

Callindra stood, sheathing her sword and stretching as best she could in close quarters.  Her stomach rumbled and she hitched her baldric off a spot that had rubbed while she slept awkwardly and made her way downstairs.

The common room was bustling with activity, serving wenches bringing tankards of beer, water and wine to patrons as well as platters of bread and sausages.  She sat at the end of a table and a rounded young woman sauntered up almost immediately.

“Wha’ cn I get yeh then?” She asked.

“Beer, bread and sausage.  And water if you please.”  Callindra replied, conscious of her ragged appearance.  “Is there a bath house near?  I’m long overdue.”

“I’ll say.” The girl gave her a languid wink, wrinkling her nose, “Got un onsite.  Yeh got in late las nigh?  Stayin n Master Sol’Estin’s room?”

Callindra nodded, “Yes.  Do you know when he’s expected?”

“We don’ know when he’ll come, but we allus know when he do.  I’ll get yeh food n then summat cn show yeh to th baths.”  She set a tankard of sharp ale on the table and made her way through the throng, handing out more beer as she went.

“Mind if I join you?”  A man with a mass of blonde curls and an inviting smile asked, standing across the bench from her.

“Sure.  I’m Callindra.”  She took a drink of her ale, idly tightening the buckle of her baldric.

“Karath.” He replied, extending a hand, “You here for the trials then?”

“Yeah.”  She had no idea what he was talking about, “You too?” She said, grabbing his forearm with a swordsman’s clasp.

“Oh, I’m smarter than that.  Last year I came here with delusions of grandeur about the Duke’s Guard but soon discovered it was way too much sitting around and not enough actually doing anything.”  He snagged a foaming tankard from a barmaid that passed by.  “That’s why I’m a caravan guard.  The work is relatively easy, the pay is good enough and you get to see the world.”

Oh, now she knew where she was, Duke Gladthorne’s Holding also known as Thornehold.  He held a hiring faire every year, and due to the wide variety of swords for hire that showed up it had come to be called Blademeet.  The Duke did generally skim the cream off the top of the pool of warriors, but there were plenty of others who showed up as well.  Mercenary companies, wagoner’s, small town militias and even some of the local Lords began coming to fill their needs.

Gods and Demons, she was nearly three hundred leagues from home!  How had she gotten here?  Glarian apparently had some sway here, the room in which she stayed was his and the inn staff didn’t seem to be upset about someone staying in it.

“I did not mean to throw you off girl, try for the Griffins if you must.” Karath said, taking her silence for rebuke, “Seems to me like a place someone like you just wouldn’t fit in.”

“I’d sooner be in the Wolves.”  She said, thinking of the elite raiding party the Duke kept for his most dangerous or discrete work.

“You?  In the Wolves?”  Karath threw his head back and laughed merrily, “Nay youngling, you’re far too green for them.  Besides, the Duke’s men are too serious.”

Callindra bristled and only barely managed to keep her temper in check.  Even so a gust of wind swirled her short, tangled hair and tugged at Karath’s cloak.

“I mean to make something of myself, not waste my life sitting on a wagon hoping for a bandit attack to break the monotony.”

“I’ve heard the same before, no harm in trying.  If you change your mind, I’m with Raven Company.  East side of the Market, you can’t miss the banner.”  He tossed a few coins on the table for his ale and wove through the crowd to the door.

Callindra couldn’t help but notice the smoothness of his steps and as her eyes traveled over his slim form was almost shocked to see a heavy axe on his belt.  He carried it so naturally she hadn’t even noticed it was there.

A serving girl set a thick clay plate down with a resounding thunk, it had a pair of thick sausages straining against their gut casings and three thick slabs of still warm bread slathered with butter.  Realizing how famished she was, Callindra set to with a will.  When she had finished, the girl who collected her empty dishes scooped the coin off the table as well.

“What do I owe you?”  Callindra asked, realizing she didn’t have any coin.

“This’ll do.  Karath done fer yeh.” She replied, “Bathhouse’s through th back, second left an all th way t th end.” She indicated a door with a jerk of her head and swept back through the crowded room.

It took Callindra a moment to understand that the girl meant Karath had paid for her meal.  She shrugged uncomfortably, now she was going to have to find Raven Company just to pay him back once she found a way to earn some coin herself.  She stood and bit her lip in consternation.  The clothes she was wearing were rough and worn, obviously made by someone without proper tools or supplies.  Her hair was matted and …

She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was a warrior.  Nobody would dare mock her appearance once they saw her skill with a blade.  Squaring her shoulders, Callindra made her way to the bath house for a good soak and scrub.

The explosion burned the hilt of her sword into her palm through the leather gloves she wore and Callindra let off a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush. The spells seemed to fail as often as they succeeded and the failures were always painful. Carefully sheathing her sword she removed the tatters that remained of her gloves and reached gingerly into her belt pouch for a container of salve.
“I think that’s enough for today Callindra; you’ll need a full nights rest to recover. Your mental stamina is at its limit and pushing that too hard is very dangerous.” Said Glarian, looking at her with a concerned frown on his face.

Grimacing as she rubbed the stinging ointment on to the burned palms of her hands she replied, “I don’t think I can even hold him anymore today anyway. I’m getting sick of constantly failing but I won’t stop until I master it.” With her mouth set in a determined line she sat cross-legged with her sheathed sword sitting across her knees, “At least I can practice meditation, that seems to help somewhat.”

As her meditation began he could see sparks of Weave like fireflies circling her in rhythmic patterns, matching the speed of her breathing and the pulse of her heartbeat. Her connection was stronger than any student he had taught in the past and while she was in a meditative state she was in complete control. It was when she attempted to bend the weave to her will that things went all wrong. There had to be a way to break her block, before it was too late.

Leaving his Disciple to her meditation Glarian walked back to the house, lost in thought. Much to his surprise there was someone waiting for him outside his house.

“Dear Master Sol’Estin. It’s been far too long.” The man was wearing the green and gold of Inquisitor and held a wand at the ready. The short sword sheathed at his side had a ruby on the pommel that seemed to gleam with inner light. “I’ve been feeling some rather unnerving disturbances in the Weave and my search leads me here.”

“Inquisitor Shojin, it has been a long time hasn’t it?” Glarian kept his eyes on the other’s face as he spoke, “Come in for a cup of tea perhaps?”

“Sadly no, I must attend to the business at hand. Where is she?” He hissed, “I know that fool Thaeran has made a deal with you or been somehow manipulated into feeding us false information. I know you are teaching that strange girl who seems to be a hole in the fabric of the Weave although I cannot imagine to what end.”

“A hole in the weave? I don’t know what you are talking about Shojin.” Glarian said, trying to buy some time.

The snap of a breaking branch captured the Inquisitors attention and Glarian seized the moment to draw Sakar in a blurring silver arc, running his hand down the blade and summoning forth a spell. The spell took effect and his enemy began wandering aimlessly around humming to himself, his mind momentarily clouded.

He looked up and saw Callindra standing at the edge of the clearing, her sword in her hands. Now he saw what Shojin had seen, her power was turned completely inward and she appeared as a negative shape against the glow of Weave around her.

“RUN CALLINDRA! They found me out, you have to run! Get as far away from here as you can, don’t look back! Find yourself another master to finish your training, for I won’t be able to do it from here on out. I’m sorry Callindra; my past has caught up to me but there’s no need for it to ruin your future. “

”I won’t leave you here to face this alone, I finally feel like I’m worthy to be your disciple.” Callindra said, her voice wavering between proud and afraid.

“I know you don’t understand but you must learn to trust your weapon, your magic and yourself. Until you do you won’t be able to move forward. I don’t intend to die here, this fool may be more than my equal in magical power but he’s no match for me with a sword.” When she still didn’t move he took an amulet from around his neck. The heavy gold cylinder that hung from it made it easy to throw towards her.

“This is the sigil of a Blade Mage Callindra, what we call a Focus. Go forth from this place and survive using your wits, your magic and the edge of your blade. Return in a year and I shall give you the sigil I have forged for you and reclaim my own.”

Her back straightened and she swept her sword in an elaborate salute. “I will return in one year Master. I will prove myself and claim my reward.” She sheathed her blade and turned to run from the clearing, not looking back even when shouts of pain and explosions of power rang in her ears.

–

Callindra crouched, easing forward carefully through dead leaves and dry twigs. She had been surviving thus far on snared rabbits but if she was going to survive the winter larger game was going to be needed. The deer lowered its tail but its ears kept twitching, obviously knowing something wasn’t quite right.

She stilled her breathing, using the breathing exercises she had learned from Glarian. The deer turned its head to nibble on a twig and Callindra sprinted forward, sword in hand. Using him like a wolf would use its fangs; she hamstrung the animal as it attempted to flee and smoothly sliced its throat before it could escape.

Her sword shone in the sun as she whipped him sharply to remove the deer’s blood from his blade. He was so bright, her beautiful fang. As she thought this, something clicked in her mind. Brightfang was his name, she was as certain of that as she would have been if he had whispered it in her ear.

“Brightfang? Aptly named, well chosen.” She set about gutting the deer using the only sharp thing she had around; the pace-length, razor sharp edge of Brightfang. It was easier than she anticipated it being to her pleasant surprise. Before long she was dragging the animal back to the rough lean-to she had built in a copse of sweet-smelling fir trees.

The familiar cries of the ravens that roosted above her makeshift home greeted her arrival. Mindful of scavengers, Callindra poked her fire into life and set about skinning and butchering her prize. She didn’t have as much experience preserving food as she did hides, but drying meat didn’t seem terribly difficult. Keeping it safe from forest creatures would likely be more of a problem.

The sun was falling behind the horizon by the time she had finished cutting the venison into strips and hanging them over the fire to dry on a lattice of green willow trees. For her supper she sliced up the deer’s heart and roasted it, knowing it wouldn’t keep and that it had the most nutrition.

With a sigh, she decided she could allow the skin to sit until the morning and after carefully cleaning Brightfang climbed into bed.

–

It was a year to the day since she had left and it was not without some trepidation that Callindra approached the homestead. Her clothes were tanned hides of various animals as the thin wool she had been wearing when she left Glarian to his fate had long since disintegrated. Although initially she had thought to make some sort of breeches she eventually adopted a short skirt out of necessity; she couldn’t make the stitching durable enough without proper thread.

Besides, she had to grudgingly admit it was a lot easier to move when your legs were totally free. After her soft boots had fallen apart over the winter she made an attempt to make a pair of shoes but her attempts had failed. After a month she found her feet had become accustomed to standing up to the abuse.

After another month she figured out how to cushion her feet slightly with air and began to spend entire days sitting on the peak of the tallest bare hill she could find meditating and listening to the winds as they blew around her. Once or twice while moving through the Stances she thought someone was watching her, but if they were actually there she never saw them.

With her nerves on edge she walked into the clearing and towards the silent house. Upon not seeing any signs of life she squared her shoulders and opened the door, “Master I’ve returned…” her words were softened by the layer of dust on every surface, no one had set foot in this room for months. The door closed behind her as a breeze curled around her ankles swirling the dust into the air.

With a sneeze she walked through the house, searching for any sign of Glarian but to no avail. Despite the doors and windows being closed a slight breeze moved the curtains, catching her attention. She calmed her mind as she had been taught and the breeze changed to a whisper.

“Callindra I am sorry I am unable to be here to witness your return and personally bestow your reward upon you. I have instead left it for you in your hidden place to keep it safe. Keep my sigil against the day we meet again. I will find you; refrain from looking for me, the path I must now travel is far too dangerous for a young pup like yourself even if you are a wolf cub.”

“Like hell I’m not looking for you Master.” Callindra shook her head ruefully as she went into the tiny room where she had slept; he knew about her hiding place the whole time did he? Using the first piece of magic she had learned to reliably control she unsheathed Brightfang and ran her hand up one side of his blade to the guard while inhaling. Turning him over she ran the same hand down the other side while exhaling and pointing the tip of the blade at a small crack in the wall.

Arcane energies sparked from the edge and a sudden razor thin gust of air rushed off the end of her sword; forcing a stone in the wall to move out a fraction of an inch. Sheathing her sword she knelt and pulled the stone out the rest of the way revealing a small cubbyhole. Lying inside was a silver cylinder a little smaller than her fist holding down a piece of parchment.

“Replace the pommel of your sword with this; it shall serve as a spell receptacle until you have used your blade enough that he can hold your magic for you. Eventually the affinity will grow and he will take on a life of his own. Meditate with him after you join the two and you will understand.”

She carefully unthreaded the counterweight on the end of Brightfang’s hilt and attached her Sigil in its place. When it seated completely there was a minute ‘click’ and a jolt of Weave crackled through her body and her blade. Although she was a little frightened, Callindra cleaned off the hearth, laid a fire and unrolled her mat of tightly woven reeds to sit upon; the rituals of the past coming back to her with ease. Laying Brightfang across her knees with one hand on the Sigil and one hand on the flat of his blade she let herself slide through the Korumn Glarian had taught her and a new world blossomed in her mind.

–

“We know you’re in there Sol’Estin, come quietly now or we’ll have to resort to force!” A man’s voice shattered Callindra’s reverie and she realized she had been sitting for hours. Rising stiffly to her feet she stretched in an attempt to work the kinks out of her legs and strode to the door. She felt her anger begin to rise; these people were the reason her master wasn’t here to meet her. It was THEIR fault and she was going to make them PAY.

“He’s not here.” She had opened the door and cast a disparaging glare at the man standing in the yard. Sheathing Brightfang with a flourish she went on “I think you’d better leave before he comes back though; unless you don’t value your pitiful life.”

The man roared in laughter, “Those are some strong words from a little wench hiding inside.” He threw his cloak back and drew a thick bladed short sword, “Let’s see if your bite matches your bark.”

Callindra stepped through the door and as the man approached whipped Brightfang from his sheath making the blade sing. The man rushed forward confidently, aiming a strike at her head. She contemptuously sidestepped his swing and carved a bloody line across his torso with ‘West Wind Blows.’ He snarled and turned to attack again, however she was too fast for him, her blade biting into his sword arm, ‘Lightning Strikes First’. Two more men came into the clearing, surprised to see their companion in combat with a young girl.

“Having trouble with that little chit Shojin?” Her opponent took two quick steps back; whirling his blade over his head and chanting but Callindra didn’t hesitate. She jumped forward stabbing him just above the knee ‘Kingfisher Dives’ and the spell scattered.

“You might be fast little girl, but you can’t hit all three of us at once.” The other two men began closing on her, each holding their weapons at the ready.

“Care to make a bet on that?” Callindra spun her weapon in a complex series of flashing arcs, first stopping pointing at one, then the other two men. Knowing full well she couldn’t handle all of them, it’d been a miracle that she had done as well against an experienced opponent this long, Callindra used her fancy weapon swinging bluff to move her back to the house. She kicked the door open and stood in the doorway, “Bring it on boys.”

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit. I’m taking the house apart; you two just don’t let the little bitch get away.” The man began calling mystic runes up on the blade of his sword, and as he touched each one, they burst into flames, their fires flowing up to form a large sphere. She was bracketed on both sides by the other men, so Callindra took a quick step back through the door, closing and barring it behind her.

As soon as he had begun casting she recognized his face. He had come and forced her to answer questions about Glarian. Callindra bit her lip; she couldn’t remember if she had told him anything incriminating or not. Was it all her fault they had come? Had she betrayed the man who had saved her life?

Thinking quickly, she decided to run to the other side, but when she arrived at the window she sought to leap out of there was one of her enemies waiting. It was the same on the other two sides that had windows large enough for her to escape from. She was trapped as surely as a rabbit in a snare. Not knowing what else to do she moved to the innermost room of the house and waited to see what would happen.

She could feel something terrible building outside the house. The entire room seemed to blossom all at once into flame. As the rafters collapsed and the whole house caved in, she screamed in frustration, “Cowards!”