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!”

Callindra was dazzled by the array of weaponry laid out on the table where she had expected to find breakfast.  She had slept hard and awakened feeling tired but not nearly as exhausted as she was afraid she would be.  The sounds of metal on metal had brought her out of sleep and she had assumed Glarian was setting out bowls of porridge.

Instead of tin spoons and wooden bowls of oatmeal she saw a dozen or so polished steel swords.  They ranged from a straight and slender toothpick with a basket hilt to a wide double edged blade with sturdy crosstrees.

“Where did you get all these?”  She asked.

“I’ve kept them for a long time.” Glarian said, “These are all blades I tried before I found the style that fit me.  Today you will do the same.  How are your hands feeling?”

Callindra had forgotten about her injuries in spite of the wrapping on her palms.  She carefully took the linen bandages off and was shocked to see the skin underneath was unbroken.  Wordlessly, she showed him her palms.

“Good, I’m glad to see the Brightstar balm works as well even after all these years.  Jordah hasn’t forsaken me yet.”  He said with a smile, “Now then, why don’t you choose a blade and try it out.”

She looked at the swords, hefted one or two and finally picked one up that was just over a pace long, had a straight, narrow blade with slightly curved crosstrees and a hilt long enough for her to hold with both hands.  She tested the balance and nodded in satisfaction.

“I like this one.  It’s light enough for me to swing but feels like it has a good backbone.”  She flicked the blade and it rang, a bright cheerful sound.  “He has a good voice too.”

Glarian nodded, “Very well, bring it outside and let us begin our morning meditation.”

“Where is the sheath?”  Callindra asked, “I don’t see sheaths for any of these swords.”

“I don’t have sheaths for them.  You’ll just have to carry it for now.”  He said, “It will give you the chance to get used to the balance.”

She followed him into the courtyard and sat to perform the first Korumn with him.  As she breathed, the sword began to tremble on her lap, singing with the Power that coursed through her during the exercise.  When she finished and opened her eyes, Glarian was looking at her with furrowed brow.

“I’m not certain that sword will be able to survive the second Korumn; look how it is reacting already.”

The sword was trembling violently, the tip moving nearly a hand span.  Callindra stood up and whipped the blade as she had read a sword fighter might do to shake an opponent’s blood off the end.  When her arm and sword were fully extended the vibration ceased completely and the sword silenced itself.

“I think it will be just fine Master, he’s flexible enough to handle it for a little while.  If I’m careful I think it will be OK.”

Before he could stop her, she began the second Korumn.  The blade quivered and sang but just as she had hoped, it held together.  When Callindra finished, the whisper of wind that calmly dispersed from the tip of the sword seemed anticlimactic.  She didn’t feel like a cored apple this time though, in fact she felt absolutely energized even though her left leg throbbed from the effort.

“Wow, that was amazing!  Is that how it always is?”  Glarian was watching her carefully, a mixture of pride and apprehension on his face.

“Yes, these exercises are intended to make you ready for the day and that includes a feeling of exuberance.  Shall we begin the day’s training?”

He led her a short distance to a small meadow.  There was a large pile of wood sitting next to a flat stone.

“I want you to split this wood; however you must not hit the stone.  Hitting the stone would damage the blade.  Allow me to demonstrate, pay close attention.”  He lifted a section of tree trunk onto the stone, took a step back and drew his sword.

She watched him lift the six foot blade over his head and bring it down with a savage motion, stopping just above the wood, which shuddered and split in half with a sharp crack.

“What just happened?”  She asked, “Could you show me again?”

Without saying anything he put one of the halves back on the stone.  She intuitively schooled her mind and started to see the other world he had exposed her to.  The weave gathered in an orderly and precise fashion around his body, in through his nose and trickled down the blade of his sword from his fingertips.  When he stopped the sword over the wood, this time she saw the magic continue to move, slicing it in half.

“Wind!  It’s wind!  Of course, I should have guessed, ‘Master of the North Wind’ isn’t just a Title is it?”  Her voice was tinged with awe, “You really are the master of the winds aren’t you?”

Glarian nodded in satisfaction, “Split it all.  You’ll need to continue to perfect your control if you don’t want to keep shattering swords.”  He set a water skin and small basket on the ground and turned back towards the house leaving her to complete the task.

Her first try accomplished nothing.  On her second try she managed to slam the sword far enough into the wood that getting it out was a ten minute endeavor.  She sighed and blew her hair out of her face.  This was going to be harder than she thought.

–

Glarian watched his apprentice from a hilltop.  The task he had set her to was nearly impossible without proper training but he had to push her harder than normal.  Maybe she could find a way to cut some corners and teach herself.  He had to rely on her innate creativity to tame and shape the incredible power that swirled just beneath her skin.

With her first few swings she appeared to have forgotten what her task was and merely waved her sword at the wood or got it stuck in it.  After a moment she stopped and stood quietly in the Ready Stance.  Her shoulders relaxed and Glarian could see the Weave begin to circle around her.  When she raised her sword over her head even at this distance he could feel wind rush past his face towards her.

She was using too much, but if he interrupted her now it might be worse.  Callindra brought the sword down slowly, as though making sure of her target and tapped the firewood.  An explosion of wind in a perfectly straight line cut a razor sharp fissure through the center of the meadow, flowers, blades of grass, stones and anything else that got in its way was sliced neatly into two pieces.  The firewood, however, was still in one piece.

The string of curses she let loose must have come from her time in the keep, or else maybe from one of the new books he’d just brought home.  Either way they were colorful enough to make him raise an eyebrow.  Interesting vocabulary for a slip of a girl; he wondered how old she really was.  When he’d asked before she claimed to be sixteen but if she was over twelve when he pulled her out of the woods he’d be surprised.

“Strange choice for an apprentice Glarian.”  He whirled, Sakar half out of her sheath and found himself staring up at a massive hammer.  “Hand off the hilt or else I will smash your head like a grape.”

Glarian followed the hammer down to the hand that was holding it which was connected to an arm the size of a modest tree trunk.  “Thaeran, they let you out?  I thought Lord Edlras locked you up and threw away the key.”

“I have you to thank for that, The Order sprung me when you started stirring up trouble again.”  The huge man smiled, “They even let me test for Master again.  You’re speaking to Hammermaster Thaeran.”

“Congratulations, surely they didn’t spring you for nothing though?”  Thaeran had betrayed a mission, assassinated a crown prince he was supposed to have been protecting and been caught red handed.

“Of course there’s a catch, I have to keep an eye on you.  My hammer is the only weapon in existence that you can’t break.  We know all about your aversion to killing, so they figured I was the best bet for keeping you in line.”

There was also the fact that Thaeran was an Earth mage and his powers were physically stronger than any other member of The Order and that Earth opposed Wind diametrically but Glarian didn’t mention those.

“So what are their terms?”  He asked, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

“You are to stop training this girl immediately, surrender your Title to the next challenger and turn yourself in for breaking your oath.”  Thaeran said with a satisfied smile.  Glarian had been the leader of the internal investigation that had revealed his treachery and sent him to prison for his crimes.

“Do you know what will happen to her if she stops learning?”  Glarian asked gliding closer, “She will destroy herself and likely take anyone or anything that’s in the area with her.  You look at her and see a girl trying to learn to wield magic, but I see a girl fighting for survival.”

Thaeran laughed, “I don’t much care Glarian, it’s your fault she started learning so her death will be on your head.”  He shifted his grip on the hammer that he still had poised overhead and in that moment Glarian sprang forward, slamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest.

Thaeran stumbled back, but before he could recover, Glarian had swept Sakar from her sheath and called the Weave to his aid.  The blunted tip of the sword whistled through the air, first to the four points of the compass and then to tap Thaeran gently between the eyes.  “You will report back that you believe I am breaking Oath but that you cannot prove it yet.  You will feed them useless scraps of information to string them along and keep them from sending backup.  You will tell me the moment they send another to replace you.  You will not do violence unto myself or my apprentice.”

The spell was completed with the fourth command and Glarian held his blade at the ready, just in case the big man somehow managed to withstand his magic.  Thaeran shook his head as though trying to clear it, then shouldered his hammer and trudged off in a seemingly random direction.

“If they’d sent someone a little more adept I would have been on the losing end of that encounter.  It’s a good thing I have made a little bit of a name for myself shattering weapons; they’re hesitant to send their most capable and instead release criminals to do their dirty work.”  He muttered to himself.

Looking back at the meadow where he had left Callindra, Glarian frowned.  “I’ve been pushing her but I need to push harder, we’re running out of time.  I didn’t expect them to react so quickly but I guess breaking all those weapons made them angry.”

A black butterfly floated down and landed on the tip of Sakar with a distinct clink of metal touching metal.  Glarian felt a tremor of Power rush through his blade and Belach’s voice came from the steel insect.

“I’m bringing her sword in two weeks.  Had to burn some time in the forge but after speaking with her yesterday I decided it needed to be done sooner rather than later.  I’d bring it today but the damn thing’s taking an ungodly long time to cool and that’s the only part I can’t rush.  Have a care, they let Thaeran out to come get your title.  He brought that monster Darangar in to make sure it was ready to smash whatever stood in his way and of course I had no choice but to inspect him.”

The butterfly flexed metal wings and soared on unseen thermals, spiraling high into the air.  Glarian sat on a large, flat stone and leaned Sakar against his shoulder.  So he had Named his hammer.  Darangar, was that ‘Soul Crusher’ in Dwarven?  He thought so.

Glarian looked back at his disciple, she had a stack of kindling piled in a neat row on the left side of the stump.  He blinked and looked again.  Callindra was more than halfway done with the wood he’d left her and working quickly through what remained.  She had actually managed to gain control over the Weave, even though she was using an old sword he’d only kept for sentimental reasons.  He grinned, this was going to be a lot of fun.  The Order was in for a big surprise.

“We just might make it.  It’s a slim chance but I’m betting on your skills Belach.  By the icy gales of Njordi, if there’s any chance of this working the sword you send her must be absolutely perfect.”

Callindra sighed and buckled her sword on.  The walk back to the trees was short and she was soon cutting through another log.  To her surprise it was much easier to make the precise final cut without scoring the tree trunk underneath.  Even so, the sun was falling behind the hills before she had finished.

Her triumph over the task gave her a burst of energy and she ran back to the house to tell Glarian.  When she approached, she found him hanging something in the lean-to.

“Master!” She called and he whirled, his sword seeming to appear in his hand.  Without thinking she had drawn her sword and moved to parry a blow but he stopped before their blades could touch.  She could see he was hanging a pair of whip handles next to an array of sword hilts none of which had more than six inches of blade left on them.

“Sorry Callindra, it has been an interesting day.”  His voice sounded tired.  He sheathed his sword, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the broken weapons.

“It’s you!  You’re the great mage he was looking for?”  She still held her sword in her clenched fist.  “He came to take your Title but you killed him instead.”

“You’re partially right Apprentice.  I am the Titled mage he sought and he came to take that Title from me.  As you can see though, I do not take the lives those who come to challenge me.  I instead kill their weapons and send them on their way.”

“Why did you keep this from me?”  Callindra backed away and a gust of wind cut between them, actually scoring the ground.  Her eyes widened in fear and dust began to whirl about her.  The wind tugged at her hair, moved the scabbard over her shoulder and ruffled her shirt.  “What are you doing this for?”

“Ssshhhh, quiet now.”  Glarian’s voice was low and the winds calmed themselves.  She could see him through the dust now; he was sitting cross legged on the ground.  “Callindra, control yourself.  What you’re doing is dangerous, the winds are my domain but as with everything else in my life you seem to turn it on its head.”

She still held her sword, but Callindra managed to get her breathing under control using the exercise he had taught her.  As with Daleus, she had to believe that if he was going to harm her he would have done it long before.  She sat a few feet away from him and laid her sword across her knees, mirroring him.

“What is your Title then Master?”  She asked, hoping it would help her to better understand.

“I am The Master of the North Wind.”  He replied, and Callindra gasped.  She had read about him.  Nobody knew his real name; he was a master of Masters, had fought in countless battles and defeated a multitude of opponents.  Then one day he had simply vanished, taking his Title with him and leaving the balance of the Compass of the Winds off kilter.

“What are you doing out here?  Why did you leave The Order?  What is someone like you doing teaching someone like me?”  She was trying to make sense of it all but the idea that he might not be telling the truth never crossed her mind.

“I have been exiled.  I had a … disagreement … with the other Masters about how and when our power should be used so they attempted to strip me of my Title.  When that failed, they did the only other thing they could.”

“When that failed?  What does that mean?”

Glarian sighed sadly, pressing his palms flat onto the hilt and flat of his sword.  “I had to kill a few of them.  They left me no choice; when they attacked one after another I couldn’t defend myself without taking lives.  Killing their weapons would have tired me to the point of defeat.  When they realized they couldn’t defeat me in single combat, they surrounded me and forced me to take oaths never to practice or teach magic again.

“From the moment we met, some part of me knew you would bring me to break those oaths Callindra.  They were taken against my will and therefore I do not regret breaking them, although doing so will likely cost me my life.  You are my most worthy student and the one who shall inherit my style and my Title.”  He let that sink in and she gradually realized what he was trying to say.

“What do you mean?  I’m no mage, I don’t like magic Master, I just want to learn The Sword.”  She started to feel the fear encroaching on her calm again, a breeze tousled her hair and she nearly jumped to her feet.

“You are an awakening mage Callindra, nothing can stop that.  Your unfortunate contact with Daleus seems to have accelerated your body’s ability to channel the Weave.  Even as we speak the winds have been reflecting your mood.  If I hadn’t gotten you to calm down you very well might have summoned a tornado right here in the courtyard.”

“WHAT?”  She was trying hard not to panic but this was too much.  Winds tore through the clearing and with each gust they grew more violent.  Glarian didn’t bat an eye; he sat like a boulder in the middle of a stream.  The winds seemed to slow as they neared him.

“Remember your training Callindra.  The first Korumn is of the breath.”  He began the breathing exercise and she joined by reflex.  To her amazement, she could see tiny shining threads flowing into his nose as he breathed in and then arc gracefully out of his mouth when he exhaled.

He opened his eyes with a smile “So you can see it?  Being able to see the Weave is the beginning.  I will now teach you the second Korumn.  It is of release.”

Glarian led Callindra through the Stances slowly, one at a time.  He was much more strict than normal, correcting even what appeared to be inconsequential mistakes; the position of her foot a few inches to the left or the angle of her arm down slightly.

The last rays of sun had gone and the practice yard was now illuminated by the full moon.  Callindra felt an uncomfortable tightness in her entire body, as though she was swelling from within.  She looked at a hand that shook from exhaustion.

“I know you’re tired Apprentice, but now you must perform the entire second Korumn from start to finish without making a single mistake.  You have built up too much power within yourself and since it’s rooted in fear it is the most dangerous of all.  This Korumn will allow you to safely let go of the Weave you have gathered without injuring yourself or others.”

Callindra nodded slowly, noting the myriad of glowing threads that seemed to be swirling around and through her for the first time.  All those times she had wondered at the wind gusting around her… had been this?  An involuntary shiver coursed down her spine as she moved her body to assume the Ready Stance.  To her surprise, Glarian moved to stand next to her.

“Let us do this as one Callindra.”  Together they moved through the intricate motions of the Korumn of Release.  She could feel the pressure building even further as they linked each of the Stances together; it burned inside her like a forest fire.  Her steps began to falter, her weak leg shook with the effort of holding her upright and sweat poured down her body.

“You must complete the Korumn Callindra, all the way to the end.”  The tension in Glarian’s voice spurred her on and she pushed through the pain and fatigue; if she couldn’t do this she might die.  She might take him with her.  The final Stance was the most difficult, but also her favorite.  A leaping spinning motion that ended with a powerful downward strike, the blade stopping inches from the ground.  Her left leg crumpled underneath her as she completed the landing of the last Stance, driving Callindra to one knee.

Instead of the gentle feeling of relaxation she had been experiencing thus far when performing it, a violent torrent of wind exploded from the tip of her sword, striking an ancient elm tree that shaded the house.  The elm exploded into splinters, no piece of the tree remained that was larger than her palm.  What remained of the trunk looked hacked off at a hundred angles as though slashed with a myriad of impossibly hard and unbelievably sharp blades.  The blade of her sword ended in a jagged break a mere hand span from the hilt.

“Absent Gods.”  She collapsed, completely drained.  “What was that?”

Glarian helped her stand, a look of pride warring with concern on his face.  “Confirmation that I was right to begin your training now, with that much power built up inside of yourself you could have leveled the house in your sleep.”

He didn’t say that she likely would have killed them both, or mention what could have happened if she had released that torrent in a direction other than the tree.

“Now you realize the importance of using the correct positioning when performing a Korumn.”  He said as he helped her back to the house.

“My sword is gone.  How will I train now?”  She felt tears begin to sting the corners of her eyes.  That blade had been her companion for months.

“I was hoping that one would last a little longer but we’ll try again tomorrow.”  Glarian’s voice had a strangely gentle timbre.  “Fear not my apprentice; nothing will keep me from completing your training.” She scrubbed an exhausted hand across her eyes and followed him.  Was that resignation or something else in his voice?

Once in the house, she attempted to go straight to bed, but Glarian forestalled her.  He made her sit before the fire and while he filled the tub from the cistern he ordered her to stay awake.

“I don’t want to bandage your hands while you sleep; it’s much easier to get them tight when you’re awake.”  He explained, “You can set that hilt down on the table too.  We can start a wall of failed steel for you tomorrow.”

Callindra sat numbly and looked at her hands.  To her surprise, the right was still clenching her sword hilt.  The left was raw and bleeding, each of the lines on her palm that a fortune teller might use to tell her future was bleeding as though cut with a razor.  She set the sword hilt on her lap and saw her right hand was the same.

“That is what happens when you lose control of your power Apprentice.”  Glarian was carrying an earthenware pot of some lightly fragrant substance and some clean linen bandages.  “This salve is made from the pollen of Brightstar flowers; it’s a healing balm that will help your hands.”

He took her hands and carefully dabbed the salve into her abused palms.  It did sting as she feared, but it faded quickly from the feeling of being jabbed by needles to something akin to the sun shining on her skin.

Glarian had finished bandaging her hands and was holding a cup of warm tea out to her.  “Drink this while you are in your bath.  Don’t worry about scrubbing, this is to soak the soreness out of your muscles.  It’s important not to get your hands wet while they are healing.”

He gave her privacy to strip and clamber awkwardly into the bath, he had put some herbs in the water too.  Presently she smelled burning tac and knew he was on the front stoop smoking.  She sat in the tub with the water all the way to her neck, holding her hands on the sides to keep the bandages dry and let the tension soak out of her muscles.  Her mind was completely blank but something tickled on the outside of her awareness.

“Belach.  How comes the work?”  Glarian’s voice echoed hollowly.

“It is heating for the one thousand sixteenth and final fold.”  A rough voice rumbled like thunder.  “I am using metal from a fallen star and it is reluctant to melt even under the fires of Majiera.  Every time it takes longer and if the temper is to be properly completed perhaps another month.”

“I will make do for a month.  You have my thanks.”

“You can’t come pick it up yourself you stubborn bastard.”

Callindra seemed to fly away from her body, feeling winds rushing past her face.  She spun faster and higher, crossing unknown lands with vast forests, a tree reaching past the heavens themselves, over rivers so wide they seemed to be lakes, across an unending sheet of ice to a mountain with cinders and ash issuing from its summit.

She plunged down the cone and there stood an impossibly large creature.  It stood taller than a keep in the center of a pool of molten rock, with horns twice as long as a man protruding from its head and wings that were larger than the sails of a ship, even when folded against its back.  The creature’s skin was black but cracked all over and in the seam of these cracks the light of magma gleamed forth.  Enormous black chains, each bigger around than a wagon ran from a thick spiked collar around its neck to the four points of the compass, their ends looping around pillars of sheer ice.

Standing at a forge that was on a shelf of rock level with the creature’s head was a man with arms like tree trunks.  The ground beneath his feet was covered with half-finished and broken weapons, each one appeared to her eyes to be a flawless masterpiece and yet he trod on them as though they were trash.  Above his head, a myriad of delicate shapes fluttered and flitted in the heat from the forge.  Callindra realized these were butterflies made from razor thin sheets of metal, each one blackened by the smoke of the fire that burned beneath them, suspended solely by the heat coming from below.

The smith spoke, “You can’t come pick it up because The fucking Order watches this place.  You know they have been waiting for the day that you would break your oath.  I will bring it to you my friend.”  He paused and looked right at her, “You don’t need to check up on my work you crazy bitch, you can see he is making himself ready for your hand.”  He gestured toward the forge and she saw a slender arc of metal heating in the fire.  It called to her, seeming to pulse as though it had a heartbeat.

“This is a dangerous thing you’re doing.  I see you’ve come further along than he anticipated though, I’d better hurry.  Take her the hell home.”

One of the metal butterflies from the air above the forge left the company of its fellows and fluttered around her head.  One after another followed until she was surrounded by a cloud of them that obscured her vision.  She felt a strange falling sensation in her gut and opened her eyes, sitting in the bath before the fire.  Perched on the edge of the copper tub was a perfect black steel butterfly.

The door opened and the butterfly started into the air, circling once around her head before flitting out the window.  Glarian entered and gave her a stern look.

“You’re still in the bath?  Time to get to bed apprentice, tomorrow is going to be a very busy day.”  He held a towel for her and she climbed out, too tired to be shy.  Her leg buckled under her again and Glarian picked her up as though she weighed nothing and deposited her gently into her bed.

“Master?”  He paused at the door, “Thank you.”  She was asleep before she could hear his response.

Glarian led the way downstream to a grove of oak trees that stood evenly spaced about a meadow. The trees were huge, their limbs spreading to cover several spans. Callindra could hear the stream still, but knew it was a little way off. She set the cloth wrapped bundle that contained her lunch and water skin in the shade next to one of the trees.

“So what is the training today?” She asked, hoping for more sparring. Glarian had been testing her skills lately with what he called the direct method. Even though she had bruises and cuts covering her arms and legs from the last couple of days, it was exhilarating.

“I have completed my assessment of your strengths and weaknesses and have designed this training course for you. It will strengthen your arms and shoulders while at the same time improving your blade control.” He gestured to logs lashed to the tree trunks, many with wedges of wood behind them, holding them at odd angles.

“You must cut through these logs using this axe.” He handed her an axe with a strangely shaped handle, “Your methods are your own but with one stipulation. The bark of the tree underneath must be untouched. Come find me when you have finished.”

He walked back upstream, leaving Callindra to survey the work ahead of her. The sun was barely above the horizon but it was already hot. She stripped to her chest wrap and attacked the first log with vigor.

Cutting through the first part of the log was no problem, despite the shock of the axe impacting the solidness of the wood. She ran into trouble when the log was nearly cut through. It was so difficult to ensure the last cut did not carry through into the trunk of the tree that it took more time to sever the last inch than it had the first ten.

The sun was high in the sky by the time she had finished just the first two of the eight logs she was assigned to cut. Callindra took her lunch and headed for the welcoming chatter of the stream. Her body was soaked with sweat; it would feel wonderful to cool off in the water before eating.

She was in luck; there was a large pool of water with a wide flat rock stretching out into it. After carefully sinking the axe into a large log of driftwood and hanging her sword high and dry from it she shed the remains of her clothes and leaped into the water with a gleeful yell.

The water was cold, but it felt wonderful after sweating under the sun all morning. She dove under and held onto a large rock; looking back up towards the sky through the clear water. A strange flash and swirl of light caused her to quickly surface and when she did she saw a young man standing at the edge of the stream.

“Good morrow lass, I apologize for interrupting your swim.” He was a good enough looking man, dressed all in rather garish red leather armor with a pair of steel tipped whips at his belt.

“Not at all.” Callindra replied, doing her best to walk unabashedly from the water. In books she’d read, men and women often bathed together when they were soldiers, she didn’t want to appear prudish.

“Perhaps you could help me out. I’m looking for a powerful mage who lives in the area.” He said, not seeming at all interested in her nudity.

Callindra walked to where her clothes were sitting and tugged on her underbreeches, trying not to look hurried. While she wrapped her chest, she answered him. “I’m Callindra. I don’t know of any mages around here at all, let alone powerful ones. I’ve only been in the area for a year and a half though. Why don’t you join me for a midday meal and tell me about yourself and what brings you here.”

“Gladly, I have been walking for six hours now.” He sat on the rock and watched Callindra set out bread, apples, cheese and cuts of cold venison. “My name is Daleus, and I have been teaching myself to use a blend of weapons and magic now for five years.”

Callindra glanced involuntarily toward the place she had stashed her sword. “Magic? Why would you try to learn to use magic?”

“Magic is power and I need to become stronger in order to accomplish my goals.” He said, not noticing the fear and mistrust in her voice, “Now that I have mastered the whip I seek to challenge a Titled mage. If I can just find him I know I can take that Title from him but instead of claiming it as my own I will turn it in to The Order in exchange for admittance to their school. Then there will be nothing that can stop me.”

She forced herself to be calm and cut a slice of cheese with her belt knife. “Why would you need to go to a school if you have mastered your weapon of choice? If you have the skill to defeat a mage with a Title what more do you have to learn?”

Daleus laughed, “This Titled mage is old, it won’t be a completely fair fight but the fool has recently put up his Challenge talismans. What I might lack in skill I can make up for with youth and endurance.” He jumped up, forgetting the food set out before him.

“I’ll show you how much I have learned on my own, imagine what I could do if I had Masters to learn from!” He unlimbered his whips and began moving through the steps of what she realized was a Korumn. Halfway through, she could see something happen to his weapons. She looked closer, there were tiny glowing threads wrapping around the braided leather, all the way down to the steel tips. When the threads reached the ends, bursts of flame exploded from them every time they cracked. By the end of the Korumn Daleus was surrounded by a roaring wall of fire.

Callindra was terrified, but fascinated at the same time. To calm herself, she used the breathing exercises Glarian had taught her. Something about him seemed so familiar, but she was positive they had never met before. Her back bumped up against the driftwood that her sword rested behind, she realized she had retreated to the protection of her weapon by instinct.

Daleus turned towards her, stepping over the guttering flames with a smile on his face. “Little rabbit, I apologize. It was not my intention to frighten you. To be honest I am a bit nervous about facing a Master and I wanted to at least show someone what I was capable of before the moment of truth. I mean no harm to a young girl who has offered me a meal, what threat could a woodcutter’s daughter be?”

In spite of her fear, his dismissiveness tweaked Callindra’s pride. “I may not be a threat but that is only because I choose not to be.” She reached behind the tree trunk and retrieved her baldric, “But I am also no woodcutter’s daughter.”

He gave her an appraising look, and his eyes widened slightly. “No wonder I walked straight to this place. I can tell you don’t know it yet but you have an affinity with the Weave Callindra.” Daleus said, coiling his whips and sitting next to the meal she had laid out.

She approached cautiously, “Me? You must be joking, I’m a sword fighter, not a magician.”

“You may be both. After all, I can only command the power through my whips. Without them I’m as mundane as anyone, but I can still feel it. I can still see it.” He helped himself to bread, cheese and venison, “It sparks all around you Callindra. You positively glow with it.”

“I’ll take your word for it Daleus.” She edged up to the rock and sat across from him, setting her scabbarded sword next to her. If he had wanted to harm her he would probably have done it but magic was dangerous and unpredictable, he might kill her by accident.

“You’ve got grit Callindra, I’ll give you that.” He said with a grin, “Most girls would have run at the sight of a strange man, never mind my little flame show.”

She grunted around a mouthful of food and swallowed before answering, “I’m obviously not like most girls.”

While they ate, she asked him about the rest of the world. He spoke of a king she had only read about, lords who she did not know and his travels across the realm. Although he seemed young it was clear he had seen many strange and fantastic things in his travels. Callindra nibbled on an apple core, not wanting him to stop talking but she knew there were many more logs to cut before the day was out.

Daleus seemed to have a similar realization, because he stood and brushed the crumbs off his armor. “I had best be on my way Callindra. I thank you for the meal and the conversation. Perhaps we will meet again someday. Train hard.”

“Good luck finding your mage Daleus. Thanks for talking with me; I’ve spent over a year with only that damn old man for company.” She said and grasped his forearm in a swordsman’s handshake. He returned her clasp and left without a backward glance.