Unseen Gods: Part One of The Oath-taker's Challenge

Ariana put her quill down, sprinkled sand onto the parchment in front of her to absorb any remaining dampness from the ink, then lifted the scroll and poured the sand from its surface back into the receptacle on the table. She gazed at her finished spell with satisfaction, rolled it loosely, and inserted it into a small leather tube. After sealing the tube with a drop of bright blue wax, she blew out her candle and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. Seven months of research and focused effort, all came down to this momentand a brand new spell for temporarily replicating a living creature.

When she stood up every muscle and joint in her body protested. She stretched her arms over her head, bent to touch her toes, and grinned. She could just imagine trying to explain to Elentir, her brother, that she was exhausted from sitting at a library table all day. That just wasn’t a tired he was ever going to understand.

Ariana bundled her supplies and her scroll tubes into her pack and moved over to the window to look out at what she considered to be the most beautiful view in the world—the Valley of the Moon—home of the oath-takers of Syreth. She looked across the compound to the northwest and groaned as she saw that the shadows were already lengthening; she’d managed to miss the dinner bell again. The waterfalls on the far eastern side of the valley were catching the last rays of the sun and rainbows shimmered in their spray. She looked down to her right and saw the end of the avenue of leafy almond and cherry trees that led up to the temple and hall complex. She loved those trees. In the month of Ahna Waking, when they were in full bloom, their pink and white blossoms filled the air of the plateau with a subtle fragrance that calmed restless students and demanding masters alike.

Looking at the trees reminded Ariana that more than a year had passed since her initiation as an oath-taker. She found it hard to believe, but the trees told the tale. Those leaves, so fresh and verdant today, had hung limp in the heat on that day and had done little to cool the oath-takers who stood in their shade awaiting the initiates.

Ariana remembered how apprehensive she’d been as she watched nearly a score of oath-takers milling below her dormitory window. She remembered how the sunlight had reflected off the fine silver and gold threads of their light summer robes and had sparkled off the jewels on their foreheads. She also remembered the heat of the ridiculous burgundy robe she’d had to wear, the robe of the initiates. She still wasn’t sure which of the ancients had decided a dark and heavy brocade was a good choice for a summer solstice ceremony. Perhaps someone who thought it the final challenge for the would-be oath-takers. You had to want it badly to put up with smothering in that robe for three hours.

Ariana grinned again. She was pretty sure she should be more reverent toward the ancestral oath-takers, but honestly—brocade?

She’d just turned from the window, thinking it might be a good idea to see if she could talk one of the cooks into scraping together some leftovers for her, when all thought of food was banished as a great black dog and an elderly, but elegant, gray tabby chased each other into the library and up to her.

Coal, she said, dropping to her knees and hugging the dog. Is Morvan here?

The cat, Jasper, Master Guardian Kieg’s spirit-companion, leapt lightly to the dog’s back, and buried his head in Ariana’s neck, purring insistently. Ariana’s mind was flooded with images of her teacher, Morvan; Jorden, the older of her two brothers; and Master Guardian Kieg standing outside the master guardian’s cottage.

Let’s go, she said to the spirit-messengers, and flinging her pack to her shoulder, she dashed from the library and followed the animals into the gathering darkness, all thoughts of food, and her new spell, forgotten. As she ran, she wondered how long it would be before she was given permission to attempt the spell that might summon a creature willing to be her own spirit-companion, and what sort of creature might be willing to companion her.

Ah, here she is. Master Guardian Kieg smiled as Ariana and the animals ran up the path. When hugs and greetings had been exchanged, the guardian said, Come inside now. The others will be here soon, and we have a great deal to discuss.

Within minutes, they were settled in the guardian’s study. Three newcomers: Arek, the Master of Protectors; Rowena, the Master of Adepts; and Betzar, the Lore Master, soon joined Ariana and the three men. I called this meeting, said the guardian, because Morvan has come to me with disturbing news from Belasius, one of the wandering healers working in Adair. Morvan?

I received a message from Belasius last night, said Morvan.

Ariana smiled at the familiar rasp of her teacher’s voice. Morvan always sounded as though he’d shouted his throat raw, yet Ariana had rarely heard him raise his voice and had never known him to yell. He was the kindest man Ariana had ever known, and she suspected, the most intelligent. He was verging on portly and quite bald. He also had a broad and impressive nose, bushy eyebrows, and a thick white beard that he kept short and neatly trimmed.

He’s been concerned for some time, continued Morvan, about growing unrest surrounding the old Palace of Gorlis in the south of Adair. A large band of marauders has taken up residence in the palace and is terrorizing the surrounding district. He suspects the activity there might have something to do with the old magic.

Ariana blinked in surprise as murmurs arose around the room. Old magic? Ariana hadn’t known that the old magic even survived. She’d always believed that magic was taught only to those willing to submit to the discipline of the oath-takers. The training was rigorous and demanded years of study. Most who began the training gave it up long before they ever saw the Valley of the Moon.

There was lesser magic of course, the kind practiced by conjurers and illusionists at fairs and carnivals, but real magic, the magic of the oath-takers, like everything else associated with oath-taking, was subject to strict moral and ethical codes.

The oath-takers: healers, protectors, and those adept in magic, were charged with the teaching and warding of all the Kingdoms of Syreth. For more than twenty-five hundred years, they had worked to preserve the balance between order and chaos. They were some of the most respected beings in Syreth, but it was a life few chose.

A thousand questions churned in Ariana’s mind, but before she could formulate the first she was forestalled by the Lore Master.

Old magic, snorted Betzar, displaying the familiar scowl that had etched a deep furrow between his eyes. The furrow was so deep that it sometimes hid the ruby magically affixed to the center of the old man’s forehead nearly eighty years before. That ruby, an oval shaped gem, about the size of a woman’s smallest fingernail, was the sign of an oath-taker: rubies for healers, diamonds for protectors, and sapphires for those adept in magic.

Betzar was of the jo’ma. His people were miners. They were, as a rule, a little shorter than the average human, broad, and immensely strong. Betzar was more than a hundred years old, and his short beard was gray, but he had lost none of the strength of his youth and none of the passion. His dark eyes flashed as he said, It’s twenty-five hundred years since old magic was anything more than a topic of study for our history students. Besides, this is Belasius we’re talking about, Morvan. You know as well as I do that he’s seen evil lurking in every shadow since the three of us were students.

I know, said Morvan with what sounded to Ariana like an exasperated sigh, but it’s not just Belasius who’s concerned. The message I received from him included a note from Magda.

Magda? said Master Guardian Kieg, sitting up straighter in his chair. The master guardian was of the ree’ma and was far older that Betzar. His was a smaller race and darker skinned. He was clean-shaven, and his deeply lined face always put Ariana in mind of the bark of the ancient and twisted pines of his dry land. Magda’s in Dahl isn’t she? How far is that from the Palace of Gorlis?

I’m not certain, said Morvan, within striking distance anyway. Magda’s been healer to three generations of people from the region, and she’s quite upset about these marauders. They’ve attacked travelers and farmers throughout the entire area.

As have others throughout the Five Kingdoms in the past few years, said Betzar. What evidence has Belasius, or Magda, that something more than banditry is going on?

Magda told Belasius that the brigands around Dahl are unusual in two respects: they display exceptional discipline and organization, more like a martial unit than a band of outlaws, which by itself might only mean they’ve a leader of some intelligence, but they are also an uncommonly diverse group. It’s most unusual to have trolls, goblins, and kobolds working in concert with men.

I grant you that such a thing is unusual, if not unprecedented, Betzar said, and it explains Belasius’s interest, but I can think of a dozen explanations for such a situation, and none of them involve the presence of some malevolent practitioner of old magic.

As can I, said Arek, the tall and formidable Master of Protectors. Arek was the head of Jorden’s order and respected by every protector Ariana had ever known. But though Belasius may have a tendency to seek the darkest explanation, I’ve never heard it suggested that Magda is prone to doing that. At the very least, we need to send someone out there to talk to her and to determine whether or not there’s any foundation to Belasius’s concerns. I also think it important that the question of who’s behind these attacks be answered.

Have you shared these concerns with Queen Daria? asked the Master Guardian, looking at Morvan.

I have, said Morvan. She too is disturbed by the reports, but she has the war to deal with, and her resources are stretched thin already. Her legislative council is demanding she find a way to deal with the problem that won’t further deplete their coffers, so she’s requested the help of the oath-takers.

There was another general murmur at that, and Master Guardian Kieg said, Daria’s been Queen of Adair for the better part of twenty years, and I’ve never known her to request help from anyone.

So we’ll help, said Rowena, the Master of Adepts. Ariana, will you take responsibility for investigating these rumors?

I will, responded Ariana, surprised that her voice worked and that she sounded quite calm. Her heart was thumping so hard she was sure everyone in the room could hear it.

Jorden, said Arek in the same calm and matter-of-fact tone Rowena had employed, Ariana’s task will be to determine whether or not old magic enters into this. We’ll need a protector to get her there and back again safely, and to determine who’s behind these attacks. Will you accept the assignment?

Of course, said Jorden, looking from Arek to Rowena, but I don’t understand why you think this an appropriate assignment for an untried adept.

Before Arek or Rowena could respond, Ariana glared at her older brother, and snapped, "I may be untried, Jorden Thornson, but I am not untrained, and has it never occurred to you that experience is gained by actually experiencing things? Besides, I’m certain no one is expecting me to take on some malevolent practitioner of old magic single-handedly. We aren’t even sure such a person is out there, and if there is such a person, she said, putting her hand up to forestall her brother’s attempt to interrupt, I’ve enough knowledge to detect that fact and enough sense to avoid a confrontation."

Jorden, surprised by the unusual heat of his sister’s response, hesitated, but Rowena, the Master of Adepts, did not. Ariana is, as you say, untried, but I have confidence in her training and in her abilities. I believe she is ready, and her going is ultimately my decision. Rowena was new to her title of Master of Adepts, and she was still finding her way, but on this occasion, her tone did not invite dissent. She was the youngest master the valley had seen in many years, and looked even younger than her years due to a profusion of red hair and freckles. She’d had a reputation for impulsiveness in her youth, but she’d matured into a steady and thoughtful woman, and had earned the respect of her order and the other masters.

The Master of Protectors nodded to her and said to Jorden, When can you leave?

We’ll leave tomorrow, answered Jorden, aware that his young sister was looking daggers at him. Our first stop will be Desert Home. In spite of Ariana’s confidence, I want to enlist the aid of our brother, Elentir. He’s the finest scout and the most capable fighter I know. We can be in Dahl within four or five weeks.

Fine, said the guardian, and might I suggest that any discussion of the old magic be confined to the three of you.

I agree with Master Guardian Kieg, said Betzar. The last thing the Five Kingdoms need right now is any rumor of the return to power of the old magic.

I understand your concerns, said Jorden, but I’m reluctant to give my word that I’ll speak to no one else about this. I may need to do so in a future I can’t foresee. I ask that I be allowed to exercise my own judgment as to whom I can trust.

Betzar seemed taken aback by Jorden’s words, but Arek said, Very well. I’ve long trusted your judgment, Jorden Thornson, and I’m willing to do so in this matter. Besides, you’re right; we can’t foresee what your needs may be.

Morvan smiled and stroked the head of his spirit-dog. He’d always respected Ariana’s brother, and he was glad to see that the Master of Protectors shared that respect.

Before you leave there’s something more you need to know, said Betzar. Our healer, Magda, and the people of Dahl have been sheltering a dragon for about ten years.

A dragon? said Jorden and Ariana simultaneously.

Yes, said Betzar. A young girl showed up with the dragon in the middle of a blizzard, and Magda took them in. The girl was in training to be a healer when she found the newly hatched dragon, and she had to flee her home to protect him. Magda’s been training her, and in her last message to Sarai, she indicated that she’d be bringing her here soon to complete her studies. We believe Magda’s planning to sponsor her next year. The girl’s name is Rhia. The dragon is Elleth.

I would think a dragon would be a formidable ally in a fight, said Jorden, trying to sound casual at the mention of a dragon. He’d thought such creatures long since extinct.

Magda’s convinced that this one will be some day, said Betzar, but dragon’s mature slowly. I’ve no idea how large Elleth is, but he’s only about ten years old, so he’s still immature. I imagine though that he’ll prove helpful if the marauders decide to attack Dahl.

A dragon, murmured Jorden, as everyone rose to leave. I expect this will be an interesting assignment.

Ariana, said Rowena. Master Guardian Kieg and I have agreed that it’s time for you to attempt the summoning of a spirit-companion, and Morvan has agreed to help you.

Ariana’s face lit up. She looked to the Master Guardian and saw him smile as his own spirit-companion, Jasper, leapt into Ariana’s arms purring contentedly. She hugged the spirit-cat close, set him down, and followed Morvan and Coal out of the building without even looking at her brother.

Jorden smiled ruefully at Master Guardian Kieg.

I wouldn’t worry about it, said the guardian, she’ll be so delighted, and so exhausted, by the end of the summoning, that she’ll forget she’s not speaking to you.

It’ll be a long journey to Desert Home if she doesn’t, said Jorden.

* * *

The summoning took most of the night, and Ariana was so tired that she couldn’t say later when the spirit-hawk had first appeared. Her focus on the incantation was so intense that she had no idea how long the small, silver-gray hawk was there before she noticed her.

Morvan returned to the temple after the summoning, congratulated Ariana on the success of her spell, and greeted the spirit-hawk with respect. He then accompanied Ariana to the kitchen in the Hall of the Adepts and insisted that she eat a bowl of hot cereal and a small loaf of warm fresh bread dripping with sweet butter. A summoning takes a lot out of a person, he said, as he watched Ariana sop up the last of the cereal with the last of the bread.

That was delicious. I’d forgotten I was hungry, she responded, smiling at the old man. I seem to have missed dinner again.

Morvan smiled. He’d never known his young student not to be hungry, though she often forgot to eat when in the midst of some project. Satisfied that her immediate needs had been taken care of, he turned his attention to the spirit-hawk and asked, What’s her name?

Aya, said Ariana reaching out to stroke the breast feathers of the silvery hawk, her name is Aya.

Chapter 2

"In love? You can’t be in love. What do you even know about being in love? You just met this girl three weeks ago, an’ we’ve been plannin’ this adventure for ten years. You can’t back out now."

I’m sorry, Dorian, said Amador, with the sheepish grin that always infuriated his cousin, but someday you’ll understand. Someday it’ll happen to you.

Ten years, Amador, said Dorian, ignoring his cousin’s prediction. Ten years of trainin’ an’ plannin’ an’ you throw it all away for a girl you just met.

Shh, keep it down, she’ll hear you, Amador hissed, glancing into the kitchen of his parents’ home where his mother and the girl in question were making dinner.

I don’t care if she hears me. I don’t care if they all hear me. It’ll give ‘em something to talk about at your weddin’. Have a great life, Amador. I’m leavin’.

You can’t just walk out, Dorian.

I’m not just walkin’ out, you idiot. We’ve been plannin’ this for ten years. The only change in the plan is that you aren’t comin’.

Dorian, shouted Amador, as his friend stalked off into the fading light. You drek. Don’t you think you ought-a at least talk to your folks, and as Dorian continued up the road, Will you stop? You haven’t even got your pack. Amador watched until Dorian rounded a bend in the road and passed out of sight. An’ he calls me an idiot, he muttered.

Dorian stopped a few hundred yards up the road. He’d never been so angry, or so disappointed, in his life. He plopped down on the grassy verge near the edge of the village and fumed. Night was falling, and from where he sat, he could see the glow of lamps being lit in homes throughout the village. He had no idea what he was going to do now. He’d never imagined going off alone. Amador, his cousin and the best friend he’d ever had, had been his partner in every childhood escapade, and now he’d backed out of their planned adventure for some girl he’d just met. Ridiculous. So what if she was cute—and smart—and funny—and was crazy about Amador. Dorian sighed.

What made him even more upset, was that his parents had been working so hard and had almost finished their plans for the send-off party they were hosting for Dorian and Amador. That was the tradition when any elderkin determined to go off adventuring. The elderkin, oldest of all the peoples of Syreth, seldom chose to leave their prosperous farms and villages, but every elderkin dreamed of adventures. They loved to hear the stories of those rare members of their kinship who ventured out into the wider world, and they eagerly adopted the exploits of the adventurers as their own. Dreaming about adventures, if not actually having them, was enormously satisfying.

Dorian leaned back against a convenient fence post and pictured all of the places he and Amador had talked about seeing. Misty meadows and snowy mountains, lush forests and wide deserts, cool blue lakes and sparkling streams, all presented themselves to his imagination with a vividness that delighted him. In his fantasies he visited with the ree’ma in their desert canyons, was befriended by the jo’ma in their vast underground cities, fought ogres and goblins, dragons and demons, and gained fabulous treasures.

The magic of his visions was shattered by a burst of laughter from the tavern as the door opened and several patrons came out calling loud good nights and heading home for dinner. Dorian thumped the ground in anger. He hadn’t meant it when he’d told his cousin he was leaving. He knew it was irrational (his da’s favorite word) to go alone. He knew he should wait and talk to some of his other friends, find someone else who was willing to go off on an adventure, but even a week’s delay seemed to him an eternity. He had to go now. He couldn’t wait another day.

It would be easy enough to do. His gear was mostly packed. He could be ready to go in a matter of minutes. His parents were heavy sleepers. They never heard him when he snuck out at night. He knew he’d regret not having said a final goodbye to his family and friends, and he’d miss life in the Blue Glade, but he also knew if he waited and talked to them they’d probably be able to talk him out of going at all. So, Dorian didn’t say a word to anyone. He ate dinner with his parents, helped his mother to clean up the kitchen, and went to bed early. His parents, knowing how upset he was about Amador’s decision, didn’t say anything, and ten minutes after he heard the first gentle snores rumbling from their room, he picked up his pack and his favorite quarterstaff and left.

* * *

In little more than a week Dorian was far away from the familiar paths of the Blue Glade, and the only life he’d ever known. He was on his own at last, and the whole world was his to discover and explore. When he first started out, Dorian rejoiced in his newfound freedom, but as time passed, he discovered that he had a lot to learn about the wider world. Berry bushes and edible plants, even in the month of Thriving, that humans called Arden’s Month, were far less plentiful in the fields and forests than he’d imagined. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t very good with a bow and arrow. In reality, the bow he had was hardly more than a child’s toy. He knew how to set snares to catch rabbits and small birds, and he knew how to fish, but those things took time and patience. It turned out he could hunt, and maybe eat, or he could keep moving. It was hard to do both.

He also learned that although he was experienced with flint and steel, starting a fire at home in the hearth with his mother’s artfully prepared tinder, plenty of dry kindling, and stacks of seasoned firewood available, was nothing like having to gather everything he needed each evening and trying to start his fire with sticks that were almost always damp and larger than he wanted. Each day presented a new challenge, and each night he fell asleep wondering if his rash decision had been the right one.

Villages were few in this part of the world, and although he was made welcome in every inn he entered, he was almost always subjected to curious stares and occasionally ribald jokes. Few of the people he encountered had ever seen an elderkin, and he felt self-conscious about being alone in a world of people far larger and rougher looking than he’d ever imagined. He almost always left in darkness—afraid that someone, or something, was going to follow him out of the village and into the wilderness. Dorian was a more than competent fighter, but it wasn’t something he wanted to do if he didn’t have to. It wasn’t long before he found that he preferred the wilderness to the towns.

He also discovered that although he’d been in good physical condition when he left home, and carried little extra weight to begin with, walking all day every day was trimming him down even more. He never found a single route that stayed level for long. It seemed he was perpetually taxing his lungs climbing up hills or torturing his knees going down. But he felt good. He felt strong. He liked it when he had to cut new holes in his belt, and his confidence grew as his waistline shrank.

Chapter 3

Jorden and Ariana, accompanied by Aya, the enchanting spirit-hawk who would, barring tragedy, be Ariana’s companion for the rest of her life, were in Desert Home ten days after their meeting with Morvan and the masters of the valley. Fortunately, their brother Elentir was there as well and declared himself quite willing to join them, so they were able to relax and enjoy their visit. They stayed for three days. It was Ariana’s first return home since the taking of her oath, and everyone in the community joined in celebrating her accomplishment.

On the final evening, their good friends, Haydn and Mai, along with their two children, Rodama and Rowan, joined them for dinner. Maris and Darach, the elderly couple who had worked for Ariana’s mother for many years, prepared a wonderful meal.

That was marvelous, Maris, said Jorden, bowing to the tiny ree’ woman, and then going down on one knee to kiss her on the cheek, you are without doubt the finest cook in all of Desert Home, and you spoil us terribly.

I do no such thing, insisted the delighted old woman. I was never anything but strict with those two when they were children, she said indicating Elentir and Ariana, and well you know it. Now, go out to the terrace and entertain your guests. Darach will help me clean up.

So, how long will you be gone? asked Haydn, as Jorden joined the company, who sat looking across the river to their sun drenched winter homes. The desert sun, which made the far side of the canyon unbearably warm at this time of year, made it a delightful refuge when snow filled the canyons and numbing winter winds sought entry through any carelessly constructed wall.

Hard to say, said Jorden settling into a seat and accepting a glass of wine from Ariana. It’s about a three week journey from here, and we’ve no idea what we’ll find when we get there. The reports we’ve received aren’t encouraging. In addition to human bandits there have been reports of kobolds, goblins, even trolls in the area.

I want to go with you, said Rodama.

Hush, Rodama, said Haydn to his enthusiastic fourteen year old. That’s unusual isn’t it? he continued to Jorden. Kobolds and goblins working together?

It is— began Jorden.

I’m serious, Father, said Rodama, unaware that she’d just interrupted Jorden. I want to go. I can help.

No, said Haydn and Mai, simultaneously.

I’m sorry, Rodama, said Jorden, perhaps in a few years—when you’re older and more experienced.

How am I supposed to get experience if I’m not allowed to do anything? protested Rodama. The comment brought a grin from Ariana, quickly suppressed when Jorden shot her a warning frown.

Enough, Rodama, said Haydn.

But, Father, insisted Rodama.

I don’t want to embarrass you in front of our friends, said Haydn, so I’d suggest waiting until we get home to have this conversation.

I don’t want to wait until we get home. I want to talk about it now.

Very well, said Haydn, shaking his head. As you insist, we’ll discuss it now. You may not go because I can’t trust you to follow Jorden’s orders. While it’s true that you’re a superb scout and an exceptional archer, you’re only fourteen years old and inclined to behave irresponsibly. As I recall you’ve been restricted to your room for two of the last five weeks for a variety of offences, which included: disobeying your mother, fighting with your brother, straying beyond the boundaries I’ve set for you, and violating your curfew. And in just the past week, I’ve had to speak to you twice about your disrespectful tone. If you need further evidence, this conversation is a perfect example of your lack of judgment. Do I need to continue?

Rodama leapt to her feet and stomped across the terrace into the darkness without a word to anyone.

I’m sorry, said Mai, she seems to get angrier and harder to handle every day.

You’ve nothing to apologize for, said Jorden.

No you haven’t, said Elentir. You’ve done a great job with Rodama. She’s smart and funny and kind and one of the most talented scouts I’ve ever trained. She’s just impatient. All she needs is time.

It’s true, said Haydn, grinning at Elentir. In fact, she’s a lot like you were when you were a boy. I used to laugh at what you put Jorden through, but I’m not laughing now.

Neither am I, said Mai, and if I were one to assign blame, Elentir Thornson, you’d get your fair share. It seems to me you’ve had her shooting that bow of hers and tracking every creature in the canyon lands since before she could speak properly.

Come on, Mai, said Elentir, raising his hands in mock alarm, there’s not a child in Desert Home I haven’t trained to shoot and track. Is it my fault Rodama’s the best we’ve got?

It’s your fault she knows it, said Mai. Honestly, Elentir, the way you go on about her abilities, you’d think she was your own daughter. She’s convinced she’s ready to plunge into any adventure you can dream up.

Before Elentir could come up with a response, Jorden raised his wine glass to the two of them and said, Not this one.

Chapter 4

Late one evening, just as Dorian had begun looking for a suitable stopping place, he saw the flicker of a campfire in the distance, and the breeze brought him a whiff of something far more appetizing than the tubers and grubs that were all he’d found to eat that day. Alert to the possibility of danger, but too curious to resist, he crept forward to see what he might discover. What he saw in the small clearing was enough to make him forget everything else in the wonder of looking and listening.

Sitting around a small cooking fire were two men and a woman who by her appearance might have been, almost certainly could be, no, definitely was, ree’.

Now Dorian had never seen a ree’, the ree’ma being almost as unlikely as elderkin to be out wandering in the world, at least in his part of the world, but he’d listened hard to the tales of his granfar, and he was sure this delicate, dark-haired woman had to be one, though Dorian thought she was kind-a tall for a ree’ and fairer skinned than he thought a ree’ woman would be. Her skin tone was close to the warm milk chocolate glow of his own elderkin people.

Dorian was so excited it was all he could do to keep quiet so that he might hear the strangers speak. Elderkin were noted for their ability to move silently and remain undetected, and Dorian was more skilled than most, so staying well hidden in the shadows, he crept closer.

He was about to go closer when he spotted a small silver-gray hawk sitting on a stump beyond the fire. The bird seemed to be staring right at him, and though it hadn’t made a sound, Dorian decided he was close enough.

The woman was dressed in dark close-fitting trousers, knee high leather boots, and a belted tunic in a dark blue material that seemed to shimmer in the light of the campfire as she moved about. As he settled down to listen, she stirred the contents of a traveler’s pot nestled in the glowing coals of the campfire and spoke. How far away do you think it is now, Elentir?

The music of her voice thrilled Dorian, and he shivered with excitement as he noticed a wink of blue light on her brow—an oath-taker. Oath-takers were even more rare than ree’ma—and an adept at that—he didn’t think anyone in the Blue Glade had ever seen an adept. What luck. Adepts did real magic—not lesser magic like Amador could do. That was just tricks and illusions and sleight of hand. But adepts—adepts practiced real magic.

Four, maybe five days, the man she’d addressed as Elentir replied. He was sitting on a fallen log and examining the string on the powerful-looking longbow he held in his lap. Though his skin was nearly as dark as that of the woman, his brown wasn’t a product of his birth, but of years spent in the outdoors. Dorian knew that beneath his clothes the man’s skin would be pale—that he would have the ivory skin of the north and the forests of Rothen or maybe Ramothien. The man’s black eyes glittered in the firelight. He looked like he’d spent a lot of time wandering. His rust colored shirt and trousers, while not exactly grimy, were travel stained, although his brown leather jerkin and boots looked as though he’d just finished cleaning them. They gleamed in the firelight.

Elentir was not a handsome man. A nose that had been broken more than once dominated his unshaven face and marred what might otherwise have been considered pleasant features. His long black hair was tied back with a thin leather cord. Why, are you getting nervous? he asked.

Kind-a. This is my first assignment after all. And I have to confess, that even with the two of you along, the idea that someone might be practicing old magic concerns me a little.

A cold shiver went down Dorian’s spine at the mention of old magic, and Elentir responded, Only a little? Laying aside his bow, he turned to the quiver of arrows at his side and began examining one of the shafts critically. It would be foolish not to be concerned, frightened even. This is a dangerous assignment, or the guardian wouldn’t have insisted that it be given to Jorden.

Dorian’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew round as he realized the three were going on some dangerous adventure. He couldn’t believe his luck. An adventure was just what he was looking for, and here one was, right in front of him. He was so pleased he could scarcely contain himself. Anxious to hear more he started to inch closer, but the bird clicked her beak, and ruffled her feathers, and Dorian subsided. He was close enough to hear just fine.

The man Dorian now knew was called Elentir was still speaking. I’m serious, Ariana. We’ve no idea what we might encounter in Dahl. A week from now we could find ourselves prisoners in some sorcerer’s dungeon.

A dungeon, Dorian whispered. Oh, my.

The group by the fire started at the noise, and before the elderkin had time to realize his mistake, he was hauled roughly to his feet and dumped unceremoniously before the man who had yet to speak. Although neither as tall nor as broad as the one called Elentir, this one, Dorian was sure, was the leader, and his look made the elderkin wish he’d never left home. He too was a dark man, though not as dark as either of his companions, and his black eyes and heavy black eyebrows made him look as though he were perpetually scowling. Unlike Elentir, this man was clean-shaven. He was dressed all in black: black cloak, black leather jerkin, black shirt and trousers, and gleaming black boots.

Who are you? the man demanded. He well knew that his dark eyes, shadowed by the hood of his cloak, made him look menacing. A fact he had used to his advantage on more than one occasion.

I—I’m—D—Dorian, son of Florian, grandson of Jairus, who—who was third son of D—Doren, the elderkin stammered, pulling off his close fitting wool cap. I’m—I’m an elderkin, he added, a bit unnecessarily. The fact of his ancestry would be hard to miss, as Dorian stood only four and a half feet tall in his best boots, and had the distinctive white blonde hair of his people. He was dressed in blue and gray, and his shirt, cloak, and trousers, although not freshly laundered, were of good quality.

He appears to be alone, Elentir said, stepping back into the light of the fire. He’d just completed a quick circuit of the camp and looked chagrined at how easily the elderkin had approached their fire.

Fine, Dorian’s interrogator responded, his scowling eyes never releasing Dorian’s from their scrutiny. In an angry tone he snapped, All right, Dorian son of Florian, would you like to explain what you were doing spying on us?

I wasn’t spyin’, Dorian said. In spite of this man’s stern look and angry voice, Dorian realized that he wasn’t afraid. Then he saw what the shadows had concealed so well. This too was an oath-taker. The diamond that sparkled on the man’s high forehead declared him a protector, just as the sapphire on the woman’s forehead declared her an adept. I wasn’t spyin’, he repeated, his natural confidence reasserting itself, and his blue gray eyes sparkling. I was just sort-a listenin’.

Jorden, stop it, Ariana broke in. You know it isn’t courteous to tease a fireguest. With a reassuring smile, she motioned Dorian closer to the fire, and knowing how important family ties were to the elderkin, she handed him a bowl of thick soup and said, You’re welcome to share our fire, Dorian, son of Florian, grandson of Jairus, who was third son of Doren. Please, ignore my brothers. Even when they’re quite cheerful they can look frightfully stern. Will you tell us what you’re doing out here so far from the Blue Glade?

If you want to hear, Dorian said, made suddenly shy at the honor she’d done his family by remembering and reciting his full name. He tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. Her hair was the same raven color as was that of the two men, but her eyes were green, while theirs were as close to black as to make no difference. Dorian wondered how it could be that a ree’ woman had two brothers who were obviously human, but though he was seldom shy about asking questions, that one seemed a little personal, even for him.

Receiving another reassuring smile, he plunged in, relating the events of the past couple of months, including Amador’s defection, and concluding with his excitement at hearing of the upcoming adventure. I—I’d like to go with you. I’ve always wanted to go on a real adventure.

At this surprising revelation, Jorden and Elentir started to laugh, but subsided at a look from Ariana. Stop it, she commanded, her green eyes flashing in the firelight. Jorden Thornson, it was you who said that we’d probably need a lot of help before we were through, so don’t scorn Dorian’s offer before you’ve heard him out.

But, Ariana, be reasonable, said Elentir. He’s so little. His boots would have been too small for me when I was ten years old.

That observation, accurate or not, was too much for Dorian. Looking comically fierce, he rounded on Elentir and said, What has my boot size got to do with what I can do?

Well, I don’t know, Elderkin. What is it you can do?

Well, I— Dorian hesitated, unsure of what he might say that would interest these unusual companions, I can climb just about anything, an’ I can fit into really tiny places, an’ my cousin Amador trained me to be his assistant in his magic show so I can do card tricks an’ make coins disappear an’ stuff like that. An’ I’m a good fighter, an’ I can hide better than anyone in the Blue Glade.

I’m sorry, Dorian, but I don’t think that card tricks and disappearing coins will help us a lot where we’re going, said Jorden, pushing back his hood and smiling at the elderkin. Dorian could see now that this man Jorden, the protector, wore his thick black hair shorter than his brother did, and his features, unmarred by an oft’ broken nose, were even and pleasant.

Before Jorden could say more Dorian said, ’Course not, but you’ll be needin’ spyin’, an’ I’m very good at sneakin’ up on folks like I snuck up on you. So, if you need somebody to sneak into a place an’ hide, I can do that. Nobody ever finds me when I hide.

Nobody? asked Elentir.

Nobody, said Dorian.

Okay, said Elentir, you hide, and I’ll try to find you.

Okay, said Dorian, in the mornin’. It’s too dark now to be a fair test. That would be irrational. Anybody can hide in the dark. I’ll fight you now though. The fire gives plenty of light for that.

And fighting me sounds rational to you? said Elentir, smiling despite himself at the elderkin’s speech and his interesting assessment of the rational.

Sure, said Dorian. The protector said card tricks an’ disappearin’ coins wouldn’t help, but I’m a good fighter, so fight me.

It wouldn’t be a fair fight, Dorian, said Elentir. I’m almost twice your size.

Well, do you think there are gonna be a lot of elderkin, or ree’ma, or human children for me to fight in this place you’re goin’? asked Dorian, sounding like a weary schoolmaster addressing a particularly slow student.

Probably not, said Elentir fighting to hide his amusement.

Fine then, said Dorian. I’ll need to fight you. May I borrow that? he said to Ariana, pointing to her quarterstaff. It’s about the same length as Elentir’s sword, an’ if he gets in a lucky hit, I’d rather be bruised than sliced.

Of course you may borrow it, said Ariana. Though you must promise not to damage it when you disarm him, she added, winking at her brother. It’s the only weapon I use with any proficiency.

I’ll be very careful, said Dorian. An’ I doubt he’ll be hittin’ much with it. So saying, he bowed to Elentir and held Ariana’s staff out to him.

Elentir, baffled by the confidence of the elderkin, was becoming slightly exasperated until he saw Ariana’s wink and