The next morning, as the villagers of Sharirun awoke, Yig made his way through a maze of winding paths, paying close attention to the statues outside each building. He passed a variety of fruit and berry plants, all neatly tended, some accompanied by figures carved from bushes.

  Every now and then, someone gave Yig a sideways glance—not that he cared. Life would be dull if everyone liked him. Along the way, he encountered some older men who claimed to be childhood friends of the Chief, and they were more than happy to point him in the right direction.

  After what felt like half an hour of walking, Yig came upon a statue of a plump man rubbing his belly and grinning at the base of a path leading to a house. Yig wasn’t quite sure if it was a smile, but it matched Pervoick’s description better than any other statue he’d seen.

  He walked up the front path, as clean and orderly as any in Sharirun, and knocked gently on the door. There was no immediate answer, but he heard the clanking of wood, the swish of water, then soft footsteps, and finally the sound of a latch. A man with a bush of grey hair and a wrinkled frown opened the door, looking Yig up and down with what seemed like disdain.

  “Outsider?” the man asked in a low, gruff voice.

  “That’s me!”

  “Right. Well then, you’d better come in.”

  Inside, the air smelled strongly of wood and steel—and something else Yig couldn’t quite place, though it wasn’t pleasant. A bandaged blade with the hilt of Icarus rested on a short desk, surrounded by tools, rags, a blue-stained mortar, and a bucket of water. The man hunched over, picked up the weapon, and handed it to Yig.

  Yig unwrapped the bandages to reveal a cavity in the metal—about the size of a halved marble—where the toxin had eaten through. But every trace of purple had been scrubbed clean.

  “The metal couldn’t be replaced,” the old man said. “Can’t be too hard on myself—it’s simply too high-grade a weapon for me.”

  “You usually work with a different metal?”

  “Correct. I wouldn’t call it worse, just more efficient. Most of what I make is gardening tools, woodcarvers, things like that.”

  “So, no masterpiece sword hidden in the back?”

  The old man scoffed. “You sound just like the Chief. I assume he asked about this one too.”

  “Icarus? Yeah, he really liked it.”

  “Might not be as interesting to me, but they are a sight to behold. The Chief says I should consider myself lucky for working on the few I have.”

  Yig recalled the Chief mentioning the Falcotain sword he’d given to his son. If that was the only other one this blacksmith had seen, then he’d worked on just two.

  “How many have you seen?” Yig asked.

  The old man waddled across the room and sat back at his desk, now polishing other tools. “With a falcon crest? Well—yours, the Chief’s, and the one another hero brought me when he passed through.”

  “Who was that?” Yig asked, excitement shining on his face.

  “Long time ago now. Probably twenty, maybe thirty years. He called himself Darleth.”

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  Out in the fields, the team was performing warm-up exercises before beginning that day’s training. Sil sat off to the side, switching between carving her statue and watching everyone else. She’d offer to help, but the group always split into such efficient teams—everyone already had someone to train with.

  Once they had gathered their gear, Pervoick explained how each person would be training that day. Then, once things were underway, he led Sil to a more private area.

  They wandered into a field dotted with boulders tall enough to poke through the overgrown grass, each blade at least two feet long.

  “So,” Pervoick said, sitting on the tip of a rock with his legs crossed, “in one sentence, what would you say is your biggest drawback when it comes to teamwork?”

  Sil shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. I’d just rather do it myself. I guess… I don’t want to bother them.”

  “How do you feel about having your hand held?”

  “I don’t let anyone do that. If I’ve got an issue, I deal with it myself.”

  “Then why let me help you now?”

  Sil sat in the grass, looking slightly defeated. “Because everything I just said doesn’t actually solve the problem at hand.”

  “You really think you don’t have the answer?”

  “I do. It’s just… everyone tells me it’s wrong.”

  “Like me? When did you tell me your plan?”

  “I didn’t. My plan’s the same as always—do it myself.”

  “Yes… but do you know what it is you’re doing?”

  Sil paused, thinking. Pervoick stayed quiet, patient, giving her the space to respond.

  “How do you feel about Yig?” he asked.

  “The blond? Not a whole lot. He’s fine, for an Outsider.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah… well, when he stared at me during our match—his face, it was recklessly focused. And he seemed proud about it. And in that moment, I was proud too. It reminded me of Shown.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Pervoick looked taken aback. “He reminds you of Shown?”

  Sil looked up, clearly drawn in by the question. To her, the comparison seemed obvious. Shown had once been the strongest of the young Stearna in Sharirun before he left—not just because of skill, but because of a risky confidence that always seemed to pay off. Like Yig, he’d had an interest in the hero’s path—a passion no one believed in until Shown actually followed through.

  “He’s not a follower, that’s for sure,” Pervoick said, sharing his thoughts on Yig. “What’s the right word… chaser? I don’t see him working with us the way I expect from all of you. That’s why I’m happy to have him on the Guardian team. Host too, for that matter. Their narrow mindsets are exactly what that team needs.”

  “Well, that’s probably true.” Sil propped up her elbow on her knee and rested her cheek in her palm.

  A soft squeal came from the grass as Yig’s lamb appeared, dashing around them in a panic. Pervoick bent down to speak to her, but it took some effort to get her attention.

  “Hey, little lamb,” he said. “Your master’s just gone to get his sword. He’ll be back soon.”

  Big eyes stared back at him, and it seemed the small creature understood. Now calmer, the lamb waddled back to the grass and began munching the blades, eventually lying down as she ate.

  ◇─◇──◇─◇

  When Yig approached the training grounds minutes later, Slye was there to meet him. Most of the students had gathered, but the most impressive among them had taken training into their own hands, each heading to a secluded area to practice alone.

  “You have your sword?” Slye asked.

  “Darleth came here?!” Yig shouted.

  Slye looked confused at the sudden change in topic. “What about him?”

  “You knew Darleth and didn’t tell me?”

  “How would I know you wanted to talk about him?”

  Yig opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. “That’s true…”

  “Anyway, I was like three the last time he came through the village. So, can I see the sword now?”

  “No!” Yig snapped. “Tell me what you know about Darleth.”

  “Not much. I was a toddler when he last visited. Now let me see that sword.”

  Yig reluctantly nodded and pulled out Icarus.

  “Aw man.” Slye looked both impressed and a little regretful. He brushed a finger along the crevice left by the toxins. “I can see why the old man couldn’t fix it. This metal is seriously foreign. Where’d you get this thing anyway?”

  “It was a friend’s.”

  “Some friend you had. Can I?” He held his hands out, and Yig handed it over. Slye raised it to the sky, letting the light reflect off its surface. “Don’t let the Chief see it,” he said with a grin, handing it back. “So how’d your friend get it? Did they tell you?”

  “It was given to her by her father—Darleth.”

  “Ohhh… no wonder you’re so interested in him. Makes sense. You’d have to be someone special to find a sword like this. Pretty kind of her to let you have it.”

  “Very. Now are we going to start?”

  A deep bellow drew attention as a student lifted a pair of giant weights overhead. Yig felt the presence of a strong aura—a chill ran through him. The yelling intensified as the student pushed the weights higher. Then came a loud crack as the weights hit the ground and the boy collapsed.

  “Hey,” Yig said to Slye, “He kinda looks like…”

  “Yep. That’s Host’s younger brother—Cub.”

  “That was Activation, right? Do I need to be lifting one of those?”

  “Not yet.”

  Slye walked over to the training equipment, pulling out two aged stone pillars. After setting them down, he added a thick plank of wood, polished to a smooth finish, and laid it across the pillars like a bridge.

  “Today, you’ll be trying to chop this in half,” Slye said, stepping back with his arms crossed. “Or punch it—doesn’t matter, as long as you use your bare hands.”

  Yig stood firmly in front of the plank, studying it. “I can’t just rely on Location, can I?”

  “Do what you want. But if you’re asking if I think it’ll work… well, Location wasn’t the idea.”

  Clearing his mind, Yig focused on what he’d practiced the night before. Sitting in bed, he’d estimated that his aura had remained active for about ten minutes. The whole time, it had felt like his body was sinking deeper and deeper. No matter how many fingers he wriggled, he was unsatisfied. Not once had he been able to sit up.

  Yig raised a hand over his head, gripping his frustration tight. He forced his aura into Activation, a cold wave rushing down his body as his legs struggled under the pressure. He focused on his shoulder, willing it to turn despite the crushing weight of his own aura. It felt like he was sealed in stone. But with a deep breath, he managed to push his arm forward. As his joints moved, gravity pulled his fist down, smashing through the plank and into the dirt below.

  The ground quaked as Yig’s aura-boosted fist struck, sending a sharp pain up his arm.

  Out of breath, he dropped to one knee, clutching his wrist to ease the tension. When he looked up, to his disappointment, none of the other students had turned to watch.

  “I did it, right?” Yig asked hopefully.

  Slye looked unimpressed. “You did it, that’s true. But your technique caused more harm than good. Can you tell why?”

  Yig took a moment to consider. “I didn’t move my arm—I just let it fall.”

  After reaching his hand out, Slye pulled his student up. “Exactly. You can’t learn to run by simply tossing yourself forward.”

  Silent, Yig lost himself in thought, only to ask a minute later, “If I pull weights, or carry boulders on my back, that won’t help me with this, will it?”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Because, when I feel my aura’s weight, it comes from inside. It’s like my own body is the wights.”

  “It’s impressive you picked up on that,” Slye said, carrying over another plank and setting it up as he had the last. “Want to try again?”

  Before Yig could again attempt the exercise, his small Lamb hopped from the ground and towards him, snuggling into his arms. Confused, Yig just pet her, comforted in the thought that he was wanted.

  Pervoick and Sil walked over the hill, pulling the attention of those who noticed.

  “Aight. Gather!” Pervoick yelled.

  All the students walked up, gathering to listen to their captain, laying down their tools as they did. Sil made her way down to the crowd, and Slye walked up to be at Pervoick’s side.

  “Don’t be too tense. I’m giving you a break; let's say forty minutes. And after that, a group task.” He pulled out a nut the size of his palm and held it up for all to see. It was a glossy brown, all for at the top, which peaked in a magenta prong. “I know you all know what this is. But for our guests’ benefit, I’ll explain anyway. This is a Slipper Nut. You can find plenty in the woods, but we don’t call them common. The innards can be used for various recipes, and the shell is a useful carving material. Your task is to leave in pairs to find one, and bring it back here before dusk, though it shouldn’t take you that long.”

  The group began to murmur among themselves, some in audible distress. Though the students had all trained to face them, the idea of the corrupted bears that haunted these woods still scared them. And though he held a stern look well, at that moment, Pervoick was failing to conceal a similar fear from his face.

  “I know this puts you all at risk. But on the day of the mission, to get to the nest, we will have to traverse these woods. Our goal is to avoid confrontation before we reach it, and this will serve as practice for said goal.”

  “Pervoick,” one student spoke up. “What if we run into one of the beasts? Do we just run, leading the bear back here?”

  “I’ve spoken to the masters about such a scenario. It’s believed that if you escape fast enough, which would be easy given your skill sets, the bear will give up pursuit in favour of easier prey. And in the worst-case scenario, you will be forced to engage.”

  “Why are we traveling in pairs?” another student asked, “Wouldn’t it make sense to travel as one group?”

  “That is a valid point. But we have been training together for months. Strengthening smaller team dynamics is also in our interest. In addition, there may be an outcome in which he must split once the day comes. Actually, now I think about it, where are our elites? Did they say where they were going?”

  Yig hadn’t noticed until now, but the strongest Stearna among them were indeed absent. Host, Plum and the twins.

  Slye shrugged. “Plumb did. But the others, I don’t know.”

  “Sounds about right,” Pervoick remarked. “Well, I’ll read the pairs out now and gather them during the break.” Pervoick switched to a more bellowing voice, making sure his whole team could hear him. “The pairs are as follows:”